#if i have had anything in this blog it is that

[spencerreidenjoyer]

stress relief | spencer reid x reader

wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+

warning/tags: established relationship, face fucking, blowjobs, vaginal sex, submissive!spencer, whiny!spencer, insecure!spencer (just a little, more like awkward lol), confident (and insanely horny) fem!reader

a/n: i'm back with more pwp!! surprise!!! i have no excuse. i wrote this in about 2 days. i needed to get it out of my system i think this spencer (s3-4) is crazy and perfect and i need him. also thank you for 100 followers on this little reid blog of mine! i hope to keep writing more on here <3

(p.s: you can find this fic on ao3!)

When you get on your knees between Spencer’s legs, looking up at him with wide eyes that spell sin, Spencer knows he’s in for a wild ride.

“You’ve been working too hard, Spence,” you say, shaking your head, speaking like you’re talking about the weather and not like you have a hand on his crotch, steadily stiffening under your touch.

You watch Spencer’s throat bob as he gulps. He blinks quickly, once, twice. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so,” you hum, fingers already toying with the button of his work slacks. Spencer had gotten home late from work tonight, but was still fretting over the stacks of reports on his desk in his home office in the apartment you share. After dinner, you’d convinced him to lounge on the couch for a bit, instead of getting back to work – leading you to where you are right now. “I think you need to relieve some of your stress.”

Almost like he’s nervous, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“Orgasms release endorphins which contribute to stress relief, no?” You parrot the fun fact Spencer’s told you countless times, a small smirk on your face. As if your hand gently palming his cock hasn’t made your intentions more than obvious.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Wow, you could at least sound a little more enthusiastic about your girlfriend giving you head.” You deadpan, but you pop the button of his slacks anyway.

Spencer squeaks. “Sorry. I– I really want you to blow me.”

“I know, darling,” you coo, pulling down the zipper of his fly slowly, feeling the hardness of his cock pressed against it. His underwear is a bright pink when it gets exposed. You chuckle to yourself. “Cute."

Spencer flusters, laughing nervously. “Oh my God. I kind of forgot I was wearing those. Haha. Sorry."

“Baby,” you frown slightly. You’re not mad, not in the slightest, just amused with how he’s acting. You place your hands on his thighs, pausing with any of the action. “Why are you sorry? I think you’re so cute, you know.”

“My head isn’t on straight right now,” Spencer sighs, shaking his head. “I just want– Like, it’s going to be good for me, obviously, because you’re so good at this. I don’t need to want anything. I just– Want this to be good for you too.”

“It’ll be good for me if you stop overthinking it, Spence.” You smile. “It’s chill. Also, when do I not enjoy sucking your cock?”

Spencer covers his face with his hand, but you see him smile, laughing to himself. “You’re so crude, y’know? But I suppose you do really enjoy sucking me off.”

“I know.” You chirp. “And I do."

Your hand is down Spencer’s pants before he can even tell you to go ahead, but he knows that you know he wants it. Spencer hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, taking them off. His cock jumps up and you watch, fascinated with the obscenity of it all. Spencer’s cock curves up towards his stomach, reddening at the tip already.

You wrap your hand around his hardening cock, as you start to jerk him off. He lets out a high-pitched whimper, like he can’t control himself, and he cups a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. You giggle, “It’s cute.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Spencer says, his face a little red already.

You pout. “Come on, Spence. It’s really hot.”

His hand falls from his face to his lap, coming up to cup your cheek gently. “You like it?”

“You’re so sexy.” You nod. “Of course I like it. Now, make those noises for me again, pretty boy.”

Spencer squeaks as you tighten your grip around his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke him. You work him up to full hardness – not that it takes very long for him to get there. You flick your thumb over the head of Spencer’s cock, tease into his slit where he’s steadily leaking already. His precome makes everything slick and sticky, easing the slide of your fist over his length.

Your eyes flit between Spencer’s face and his cock, marvelling at the growing mess in your hand and how his face is slowly but surely revealing his pleasure. He’s flushed, lower lip pulled in between his teeth, as you watch his chest rise and fall. His gaze pierces you, the intensity of how he looks sending shivers down your spine.

Knowing Spencer’s looking down at you, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, pressing it flat against the tip of his cock. Spencer lets out a strangled breath, eyes bugging out at the erotic sight of you between his legs. You wrap your lips around him, suckling gently on the head of his cock. You hope to make Spencer lose his mind like this. With the way he’s breathing heavily, lips parted as he takes in all of you, you think it’s working.

His whines are more frequent, accenting his hard breaths. You see how Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his hands, watch as he digs his nails into the flesh of his palms, and you instead hold him by his wrists to put his hands in your hair. The weight is comforting, and encourages you to sink down on his cock more. You take more than half of him into your mouth, but Spencer being… well-endowed meant that you often never were able to fit all of him in, unless you were in a particular mood.

The tip of Spencer’s cock hits the back of your throat, once it’s slid in. You gag at the intrusion, and Spencer lifts you off of him, slightly freaked out. “Are- Are you okay?”

“Baby, please,” you sigh, endeared but annoyed at the fact that he’s getting in the way of his own pleasure. “Trust me with this. Just focus on feeling good?”

Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, lips drawn into a little pout, but you nod to soothe his concerns. “Spencer, I want you to use me–” You stick your tongue out to lick at his length again, making him shudder. “–Just like this.”

“You want– You want me to…?” Spencer trails off, unsure if he’s picking up what you’re putting down.

“Fuck my face, Spencer,” you say bluntly, tired of flirting in circles. It’s fun flirting with Spencer, because it’s fun to fluster him when he isn’t expecting it, but right now, when he isn’t getting the hint, you need to lay it all out for him. “Use my mouth like a fleshlight. Whatever you want to do. Please.”

He inhales sharply, stunned at your explicitness. He pushes his hair back, out of his face, taking the time to process… everything. His gaze is tender, though, as he gently cups your cheek. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. But if you don’t want it anymore, you– You have to let me know, okay?”

You smile up at him, pleased that he’s finally letting some of his inhibitions go, even if he still seems hesitant. You pat the side of his thigh thrice. “I’ll do that if it’s too much.”

“I love you.” Spencer says softly.

“I love you too, Spence.” You hum. “Now hurry up and fuck my face.”

“Jesus, you’re so crude,” Spencer laughs. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling back, he guides his cock to your mouth, the head of his cock pressing against the plush of your lips. His mouth is open when he looks at you like this. He whispers, “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to take him in, like you were before, sinking down inch by inch, until he’s comfortably settled in the back of your throat. Spencer doesn’t move to fuck your face yet, so you make the first move. You bob your head up and down on his length, making sure your mouth is wet and slick as you suck him off. He lets out a moan, hand fisted in your hair.

And here’s where it starts: You slow on his cock, and Spencer, finally taking what he wants, pushes your head down onto his cock for more. You gag slightly. Spencer pulls your head back up, pushes you back down. While you appreciate how much he cares about you, him putting his pleasure first in using you like this makes your toes curl.

Spencer’s cock in the back of your throat is not uncomfortable, not yet, but Spencer steels himself to fuck your mouth and you find your veins thrumming with adrenaline. Spencer’s first thrust is exploratory, cautious. He’s nervous, or it at least feels like it when he fucks into your mouth. You would tell him off, but your mouth is kind of occupied right now. Instead, you glance up at him, and hope that your gaze tells him to just fuck me.

One arm against the backrest of the couch, Spencer thrusts into your mouth again. He gasps. Chasing his own pleasure, his eyes flutter shut as he fucks your mouth. His thrusts are shallow, desperate, hurried, but his mouth falls open in stuttered, eager moans. He’s so gorgeous.

You’ve never heard anything so perfect, the way Spencer moans, the way he cries out your name. You press your legs together to stave off the arousal building between them. You feel like a mess, Spencer’s hand making a mess of your hair, Spencer’s cock making a mess of your mouth. You think spit is probably all over your chin right now, but he’d probably think you still look great anyway.

Spencer gasps, out of breath as he whimpers, “I’m– I’m close, I can’t–”

He fucks into your mouth once, twice more, before slumping back down onto the couch. There’s a slick, wet ‘pop’ as you pull off of Spencer, pouting slightly. “You know I’m happy to swallow, Spence.”

Spencer laughs, tired, and explains, “I know you do, dear. I just don’t think I have it in me to come more than once. And I really want to come inside of you.”

His words make you blush. Spencer doesn’t get too explicit too often, so hearing him say dirty things always turns you on. You reach up to wipe yourself clean, but Spencer’s already ahead of you with a tissue pressed to your face, gentle as he wipes your mouth and chin.

After cleaning you up, he helps you up off your knees and onto the couch. You’re both still clothed, sure, but Spencer’s boxers and pants have been pushed down to reveal his cock; you must be even more of a mess, hair rustled and face messy, and the desperation that makes itself clear at the sight of the both of you makes you giggle.

Spencer smiles at you. “What are you laughing about?”

“We must look insane right now,” you laugh. “We’re not even naked yet and we’re like this.”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,” Spencer says earnestly in a quiet voice, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Spencer’s touch is gentle, it always is, and especially in stark contrast to the way he’d fucked your face, just like you told him to. “My lovely girl.”

“Spence,” you purr, nuzzling into his hand as he cradles your face. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer’s answer is immediate, certain, and it makes you acutely aware of how turned on you are.

“I love you so much, and I really need you to fuck me right now.” You look up at him, watch as his face warms from serious to amused. You shift away from him slightly on the couch, but use the extra space to spread your legs. “Use this pussy, baby.”

Now, he presses his finger to his temple, shaking his head playfully. “Your mouth is filthy. You’re filthy.”

You grin. “Aww, Spence, at least tell me you like it!”

He leans forward to kiss you, hard and eager and desperate. You moan into the kiss, as his hand is pressed into the small of your back. You run your hand through his hair, where it’s starting to curl past the nape of his neck. When he pulls away, he says, looking deep into your eyes: “I like you. And your filthy mouth. Now let me fuck you.”

You giggle, wildly turned on as his long, deft fingers push your shorts and panties off. He kisses along your neck as he does so, then lays you back on the couch, and his thumb rubs circles into your inner thigh softly as he regards you, admires you. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“You are too,” you say, awed, as Spencer takes off his nerdy little button-up. His body is perfect – not skin-and-bones skinny, but there’s a healthy litheness to him that you appreciate, especially when you’re grabbing at him while he fucks you. “Want you right now.”

“I know,��� Spencer hums soothingly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Come on, love.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch, slack-jawed, as he wraps a hand around himself. His eyes flutter shut as he strokes himself, but he quickly snaps himself back to reality: guiding his cock in between your legs. He presses the tip to your clit, messy and glistening with your slick, and rubs against you in circles. You moan, feeling a little pathetic as you rut your hips forward to find any more pleasure like this.

Now, he presses the head of his cock to your hole, teasing, pushing it in slightly before it slips back out and spreads more of your slick across the rest of your cunt. You whine, pouting up at Spencer. He coos at you, “Okay, okay.”

Finally, he’s settled against your hole, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you excruciatingly slowly. It’s exhilarating, feeling him feed his cock into your hole, feeling him stretch you open, feeling like you were made for each other. He holds your leg up so he can press up closer to you, feeling so full as he puts his cock inside of you.

“Spencer,” you moan when he stops moving. “Fuck me. Just like earlier.”

”Okay, love.” Spencer nods, trails his hand down your waist and hips, down your thighs. “My gorgeous girl.”

Spencer thrusts into you, the first one sending electric pleasure through your body. He always loves to do it like this, make love to you slowly, intensely rocking into you until you feel all his love. You always do, but you don’t want that tonight. He knows that’s not what you want tonight.

When Spencer starts fucking you, his hips have gained a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together obscenely. It’s so wet between you two, where he’s pressed inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, eyebrows furrowed as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking cute, even while naked and trying his best to make you feel just as good as he does. He’s panting and groaning, your own moans mixing in with his. He knows you want him like this, hard and fast and messy.

You can’t form a coherent sentence, only able to babble and cry out for Spencer, for more, and you cling onto his arms as he pounds into you. You’ve never felt Spencer like this before. Sure, he’s always eager to please, doing whatever makes you feel good, but him going so hard, just like this, just the way you want makes you feel so needy, the both of you feeding off of each other’s desperation. All you can focus on is Spencer’s skin touching yours, the in-out slide of his cock, the slapping of skin on skin, the wet, slick noises of his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Cumming, Spence, I’m cumming,” You cry out needily, desperately, and you moan when he presses his thumb to your clit. He flicks at your clit in rough, hurried little circles. The pressure is cruel but just what you need for your release, and your whole body shakes as you orgasm. The high is so good, a different type of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You clench around Spencer, your cunt like a vice grip on him. Moaning loudly, his hips are stuttering as he comes inside of you too. He fucks out whatever momentum’s left in him, but pulls out quickly and gently, because he knows how fast you get overstimulated afterward.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, sweet, tame, unlike the depravity you were engaged in before, and the juxtaposition makes your head spin. Spencer, who is usually such a sweet, soft guy, being able to fuck you so hard and fast until the couch was creaking underneath you. You suppose that’s what he’s capable of when you ask. You like it. You wonder what else you can ask him to do. You think he’d do it in a heartbeat, knowing him.

“That was amazing,” you giggle breathlessly. “Spence, you’re a madman.”

”For you, my dear,” Spencer smiles. “Anything for you.”

You snuggle into his side, resting your head on his chest as you lay on the couch. You’re both sticky and gross, but you’re sure Spencer will be more than happy to clean up later. Right now, you’re just pleased to be cuddling your boyfriend.

”So, do you feel less stressed out about work now?” You ask, after a moment of comfortable silence.

”Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking about work,” Spencer laughs. “You know, some sociologists believe stress can be caused by positive events too? I think you cause me stress, but it’s good stress.”

”Watch your mouth, genius,” you snark playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute enough that I’d take being called a stressor a compliment.”

“I love you,” Spencer sing-songs.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the stupid grin that forms on your face. “Yeah, yeah.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencerreidenjoyer writes #spencer reid

[lokis-army-77]

Sweet Treat

older!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 3.4k

It's hot out and you see your older neighbor mowing his lawn. Lucky for you he invites you inside for a sweet treat.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f receiving), p in v, fingering, like the slightest amount of food play, 40s eddie, 20s reader, fem reader, just a bit of cum eating

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @lofaewrites, @emma-munson and @littlexdeaths

Masterlist

It was sweltering outside, like hell was no longer a fictional place made up by religion but real, and its flames had reached Hawkins. The sun beat down on you so intensely that you thought your skin was melting. 

You berate yourself for thinking that taking a walk outside in the middle of summer would be anything but awful and yet you're here.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you finally made it back to your home, but instead of going straight inside something stopped you in your tracks.

Your neighbor, or your hot older neighbor, had started mowing. The sound of the motor roaring to life caught your attention, and the sight of the 45-year-old without his shirt on kept it. 

The sun shining onto his sweat-soaked skin made him look ethereal, like a god on earth. It made your mouth water and your nerves vibrate. 

He caught your eye a moment later and waved, you waved back and then made yourself look busy by checking your mailbox, nothing was there. You didn't want him to know you were gawking at him. 

It must not have worked because as soon as the mower had turned on, it turned off and you heard your name being called in that deep timber.

You walk down your driveway, closer to where he sat on his machine.

"Hi, Mr. Munson," you greeted with a smile.

He sighs, "Thought I told you to call me Eddie."

You respond with a giggle, "I know, I just do it to aggravate you."

"Ah, so you think you're funny?"

"Oh, I know I am."

Eddie just chuckles at that, shaking his head. 

Reaching a hand up, you wipe the sweat from your brow. 

"Sure is hot." 

"It is. You wanna come inside, I've got some cold water and a bit of butter pecan ice cream if you want any." He offers.

You wrinkle your nose, "Butter pecan? That's such an old man flavor." 

"No, it isn't." 

"Yes, it is. The only people who eat and enjoy butter pecan are over the age of 40." You enjoy the banter that usually flows between the two of you. It makes your stomach flutter and your knees weak. 

He just rolls his eyes. "Well then, Sweetheart, I think I have just a bit of chocolate in the freezer with your name on it."

You finally walk up next to him as he stands from the mower. "Don't I just feel special."

Eddie looks at you smugly. “Ladies first.” He gestures for you to walk in front of him and you oblige. 

There’s a swing to your hips that you hope catches his attention, especially with how much skin is exposed from the workout shorts you were wearing. You hear him cough, clearing his throat and you know it worked. 

“Door’s unlocked,” he calls as you bound up the stairs. 

Upon entering the house you’re hit with a blast of cold air. The AC was definitely turned down as far as it could go, it felt almost like a freezer.

Eddie enters only a moment after you, letting the door slam closed. He glides past you, a hand barely grazing our hip as he does. You follow him closely. 

It's bright enough in the kitchen that he doesn't bother flipping the light on. He heads straight for the fridge. 

Your eyes rake over him, taking in the flex of muscles as he bends to open the sliding freezer door. The way his arms bulge when he rummages through the depths had your mouth watering. 

Giving a long sigh, Eddie stands up straight and turns to you with a pint of ice cream in hand. 

“Looks like it's just old people ice cream if the princess is alright with that.”

“Oh, it's princess now?” You ask, taking a seat on the barstool next to the kitchen island. 

Eddie shrugs, “Fits better since you're apparently too good for the best ice cream known to man.”

“I am not.” 

He scrunches his face, you think it's cute. “I beg to differ.”

“I'm not, I'll eat your ice cream, no problem.”

“So you aren't going to complain that it's for old people?” He asks, settling at the counter next to you.

“Just open the carton.” You give his arm a slight shove. 

He does as you say and pushes it closer to you before offering a spoon. 

You take it and thank him before scooping a tiny bit of the sweet treat out. It's cold on your tongue and you hate to admit it but it was good. 

“S'good isn't it?”

“Eh, it's okay.” You say, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. 

Taking another scoop, this time you bring the spoon slowly into your mouth, lapping up the ice cream in a more sensual manner as you make eye contact with the other man. Just barely, you can see his pupils dilate taking you in.

“You’ve got a little-” Eddie makes a vague gesture to the corner of his mouth.

Giggling a bit, you fein ignorance of the ice cream you let collect at the corner of your mouth. “Here?” you ask as you wipe at the opposite side. 

And just as you thought he would, Eddie reaches over and smoothes his thumb over your lip, collecting what was there. Your breath hitches when he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. The sight of his tongue wetting the digit and the glisten of saliva in the light had your legs clenching. 

You want him to do it again. 

So, with another bite of ice cream, you make what you’re doing more obvious, letting the spoon paint the white treat over your lips. You know what it must look like, salacious and borderline inappropriate if your mind was in the gutter, which is where you know Eddie’s is at that moment.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, “Fuck-” He’s surging toward you before you can even comprehend it. Soft, plump lips connect with yours. You freeze in shock for just a moment, then you kiss him back. 

The spoon in your hand drops to the counter, rattling loudly. You reach your arms around his neck and pull him into you. Eddie slips his tongue between your lips and lets out a groan. He tastes like butter pecan and something you can’t quite place, something you can only describe as Eddie. 

You can’t get enough and just when you start to wrestle your tongue against his, he pulls away and creates a space between the two of you. 

A hand rubs over his face and he sight. “We can’t be doing this.” His tone is reluctant.  

Furrowing your brows, you ask, “Why not?” 

Eddie looks at you and flits his eyes from your kiss-swollen lips to the dismayed expression in your eyes. “Are you serious? I’m too old for you.”

“Last I checked, 45 wasn’t that old.”

“Sweetheart, I have tattoos older than you.” He shakes his head.

“Eddie, I’m a grown adult who knows what she wants and to put it frankly, you have been at the top of that list for quite some time.” You pause to examine his expression. His brow is cross and he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Is it my consent that you need? Because you have it.”

“God, this is probably a bad idea,” he whispers to himself and then he's on you once more. His large hands squeeze at your waist until they find their way under the fabric of your tee. Your own hands cling to his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced so you don’t fall off the bar stool.

Eddie bites your lip, tugging it lightly when he pulls away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you. How long I’ve wanted to have my hands on you, to feel you.” He says, breathless. 

He kisses down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and a tingle wherever his lips meet your skin. 

“Eddie-” You moan. 

“Hum?” 

“I want you to do more than kiss me.”

That stops him in his tracks. He pulls away for a second time and you can’t help the whimper it brings out of you. 

“You’re sure?” 

As much as you were grateful for his concern, it was really getting in the way of you trying to have him fuck the daylights out of you. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” You pull him in for a deep kiss before whispering against his lips, “So, are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to take matters into my own hands?”

The smirk he gives you is cocky. “C’mere, Sweetheart.” He grabs at you, pulls you from the stool, and moves you to the island countertop. He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt and bra. 

His tongue licks a long, wet line from the side of your neck down to the elastic waistband of your shorts. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to pull the fabric down Your legs. He stops in surprise when He sees you aren't wearing anything underneath. 

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Did you know this would happen, Sweetheart?” He left an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Hum? Plan to seduce me with those short fucking shorts only to not have any panties on?”

Shaking your head you mumble out “No.”

“It sure does look like it, princess.” Eddie teases you with his fingers, using them to spread you open gently. His eyes glaze over with lust. “Fuck, baby… so pretty and wet for me.”

The sudden rush of arousal washes over you, leaving your skin flushed and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

He leaves wet kisses all over the sensitive skin, moving from your apex to your thigh, right where the artery was. Taking the plush meat there into his mouth, he sucked, soothing his tongue over where his teeth bit down gently. There was no doubt a mark would be there when he pulled away. 

You watch him, elbows planted on the counter to prop yourself up. Just looking at him makes your heart beat faster. 

“Eddie,” you moan as you widen your legs. 

He hums against you as he sucks his way back to your center. With lidded eyes, he looks up at you just as his mouth attaches to your clit. 

Choking out a gasp, you let your head fall back between your shoulders. 

Eddie’s hands wrap around the back of your legs, gripping them firmly and guiding them over his shoulders. The noises coming from where he was connected to you had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He'd only just started but it felt like with every even suck and precise lick of his tongue, You were melting into a puddle around him. 

Soon your arms became weak and you had to lay flat. Your hands had a mind of their own as your body writhes under Eddie's expert mouth. His hair quickly fell from the loose knot that kept it out of his face when you ran your hands through it. 

You could tell Eddie liked it too much, hips bucking into nothing When you tugged on the salt and pepper strands. His moans sent vibrations through you. 

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie- you feel so good,” you can't help but babble when you feel two thick fingers begin to penetrate your entrance. 

There's an audible pop when he releases you from his mouth. “Yeah? Imagine how good my cock's gonna feel, Sweetheart.” He removes your legs from his shoulders as he begins to stand.

Tilting your head, you gaze at him. Following down his nose, over his wet lips, down along the tattoo of a sneak that started at his shoulder and curled down his bicep. With him closer now, you could see more of those tattoos littering his skin and the trail of hair that led from his navel down. 

You clench around his fingers at the thought of whatever was hiding behind those basketball shorts. You wanted it, needed it, inside of you. 

Eddie's fingers massaged into you, the calloused pads pushing into your soft insides. “Right there!” You pant when he pushes into a particularly sensitive spot. “Right there! Don't stop!”

He doesn't, he keeps a strong steady pace with his fingers hitting the mark every single time. It had your toes curling and your head swirling with pleasure. 

Unknowingly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as you began to moan.

Eddie pushes your hand away. “Don't cover those pretty moans, wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Nodding, you keep your hands away. Occupying one by gripping your breast and the other, slipping it down to massage over your clit. 

The added stimulation makes your legs snap shut and your body goes ridged. You were hurled over the edge so fast that your vision was almost white. 

Eddie kept his fingers pumping into you despite the added obstacle. You could hear the wet sound growing louder as your body shook with release and your lungs cried out. 

“That's it, princess, give it all to me.”

“Eddie-” you cry out to him. “Feels- ah fuck, I feel so good.”

He hums in approval.

“You make me feel so good.”

Eddie pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt and licks them clean. “God, you're delicious. Put that ice cream to shame.” 

He pulls you by your hips down the counter, closer to him, and places a firm kiss on your lips. You'd never liked the taste of yourself before but that salty tangy mixed with the sweetness of Eddie's tongue had you melting and wanting for more.

You want to feel him inside of you. No, it's not a want, it's a need. A need so strong you think you might cry if you don't have I'm in the next five seconds. 

Pulling away, you give Eddie a look. One so filled with lust and longing, you know he won't be able to resist.

“What is it, princess?” He asks, moving back in to kiss marks on your neck. 

Your fingers tug on his hair and you sigh. “I need-”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me.” The buck of your hips punctuated every word.

“S'that right, Sweetheart? Need me to use this pretty cunt?”

You groaned, nodding excitedly when he started backing up. As he did so, he knocked over what was left of the ice cream. It was melted now and its contents flowed onto the counter.  

Eddie smirked as he took the carton and instead of sitting it back up, he poured it onto your skin. The splashes of the now liquid dessert were cold on your hot skin. He gives you a salacious wink before lapping up what he had tipped onto you.

“Eddie!” You gasp, surprised by his actions. 

He paced you no mind, cleaning the stickiness from your skin, and pulled back. Acting as though nothing had happened, he began tugging at the drawstring of his shorts. 

The outline of his cock was impressive, you had always imagined it would be the biggest you'd ever had. And as his shorts and boxers fell from his hips down his toned legs, you were proven right. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sick of him. Long and thick and stood at attention. Your eyes flicked from the flushed tip of his cock to his eyes and then back down again a few times before he chucked. Asking “See something you like?” 

“Yeah…” you were breathless just looking at it. 

Anticipation begins to build, your heart beating faster as he lined himself up. Your legs spread wider, letting Eddie nestle in. He gives the sensitive skin a tap with his cock before sliding it through your slick folds. 

“Ready, baby?” 

“Yes, please.”

As he enters, there's a slight pain. He's thicker than anything you've ever taken and the new stretch has you burning.  He isn't even halfway inside before you start shaking and mewling in ecstasy.

Eddie's fingers have your hips in an iron grip. He looks out a long moan once he bottoms out. There is the sensation of being filled to your absolute max.

Your walls are contracting around him, trying To pull him in deeper. 

“Fuck. That's it, baby, taking me so well. So proud of you.” 

You keen into his praise. Hips bucking and back arching. 

“Need more,” you plead and he obliges, rocking his hips into you, starting slow before going into an almost inhuman speed. pleasure is all that you feel, all that you know in this moment.

With every thrust, you saw Eddie lose just a little more self-control until he was feral, pounding into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Feel so fucking good baby. Yeah, that's right, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it? God dammit.” He'd lost his filter, saying anything and everything that came to his mind. 

You were loving it. No man had ever been so vocal with you before and it was such a turn-on to hear every grunt, moan, and whimper.

There's a flutter in your stomach that you know all too well. You're balancing on the edge and are so close to toppling over. 

“Eddie. Eddie. Eddie!” You've run out of words, all you can manage to say is his name. It's like a prayer on your lips. 

“I know, Sweetheart.” He tuts, voice out of breath. “Can feel you squeezing me. God, you’re so fucking tight.” His fingers grip your hips harder. “Need you to cum for my baby, can you do that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say as his thrusts continue, finally giving you that last little nudge you need to fall. 

With eyes rolling back in your head and a ringing in your ears, you cum. Harder than you ever had before. You're so lost in the feeling that you can't hear yourself screaming rapture. Every feeling is intense like hitting a raw nerve but it's so enjoyable.

Eddie's thrusts slow to a stop before he reluctantly pulls from your warmth and tugs himself to completion.  You can feel the warm ropes quickly cooling on your stomach and breasts when you finally come back to reality.  

“God dammit.” Eddie rasps. 

You can't help but laugh, “My thoughts exactly.”

Fixing your eyes on your stomach. You take a finger and collect Eddie's cum onto it. He watches you with wide eyes as you bring the finger to your mouth. It's not your favorite taste but you moan nonetheless.

“Thanks for the sweet treat, Mr. Munson.” Your face heats up over what you've said.

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at you before giving you a fond look. Even though you were spread out on his kitchen counter covered in drying cum, you'd never felt more comfortable. You can see when Eddie hesitates ever-so-slightly before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It was sweet, you thought. You nod giving him the go-ahead. 

He pulls you up by the hand you give him and his mouth is on you in a tender kiss. Much too tender for what you had both finished doing. 

His hands massage into the sides of your face and neck and your own slide into his hair, tugging the fallen strands at the nape of his neck. 

When he pulls away, you follow him hot wanting his lips to leave yours. He gives you a quick peck before stepping back. 

You pout but he soothes you. “I'll be back. Gonna get a cloth to clean you up.” 

It only takes him a moment to return to you, warm rag in hand. It feels nice to have all the sweat and other fluids wiped from your skin, it feels even nicer with Eddie the one doing it. 

A yawn escapes you when he’s finally done and helps you off the counter. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Yea-” You were cut off by another big yawn, it brings involuntary tears to your eyes. Rubbing your eyes, you sigh, “I guess I better get home.” Bending down, you reach for your clothes that had made a home on the floor. 

“Or,” Eddie stops you, “You could stay here.” 

 The statement was more of a question with his hopeful look and light tone. 

You can’t help the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks. “I think I’d like that.” 

“Good. Now leave those there, I have something more comfortable you can wear.” 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older eddie munson

[ghouljams]

Here's Hoping Things Look Better On the Other Side Chapter 1: The Cowboy Rating: E (minors please do not interact) Words: 6k Tags: Ghost x f!reader/OC, fingering, unprotected piv sex, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, soft sex, face riding, dangerous driving practices, one night stands, first meeting, dom!Ghost, flirting Summary: You decide to spend you last night of freedom before saddling yourself with farm work, saddling up on something else. You know what they say: Save a horse, ride a cowboy. a/n: happy 1 year anniversary to this blog, as a mark of this occasion I'm doing what I kept talking about but never had the courage for and posting the "official" Cowboy Ghost story, or at least the first chapter. If some of this looks familiar, it's because a lot of my initial posts in the au were straight from this draft

Thank you @ethereal-night-fairy for giving this a once over, you're the best ❤️

There’s plenty about small towns that you miss living in the big city. The lack of bars is not one of those things. At least your friends don’t seem to be complaining. Anything to take the edge off the hours you’d spent in the car. One of the girls laughs pushing at another’s arm, the table is littered with empty shot glasses and half drunk beers. You glance back at the room over your shoulder, eyes darting to find a tray you could pile some of this on to make the bartender’s life easier. It’s dimly lit, as all dives are, and may as well have a sign hung up boasting about how flammable it is with all the wood in here. Wood tables and chairs, wood bar, wood floor, wood walls, you wouldn’t be surprised if the mirror over the back of the bar was wood too.

Still, you’re happy to be home. You miss small town living, miss the farm. You’ve been an accountant long enough, lost the calluses on your hands and you’re ready to dive back in. You’ll have to report to your daddy’s ranch earlier than the sun once morning rears its ugly head. You may as well have some fun, enjoy your last night of freedom before breaking your back breaking horses. And lucky you it’s the start of planting season, plenty of fresh blood in the water.

It’s good timing really. You know everyone in town too well, and the last thing you need is for word to get back to your daddy that you slept with the McKennan boy or worse. No, seasonal help is the best choice for a one night stand. No one you know that knows you(or your father). You glance around the bar, plenty of faces you don’t recognize. No one interesting though. No one that seems like they’d give you anything good. Mackayla already has a hat fixed square on her head, a cowboy coo-ing at her like she’s the luckiest girl in the bar.

Your eyes hit the man hunched against the bar. An unfamiliar face, a dark black hat, and denim stretched tight over his thick thighs. He’s got a good build, broad shoulders, thick fingers that dwarf the long neck in his hand, biceps you could sink your teeth into… You can’t see his face, but there’s an air about him that screams “leave me alone”. That plus the way he keeps to himself says he doesn’t know anyone or care to. Perfect. You toss the last of your bourbon back and toss a few bucks on the table.

“I’m gonna snag a cowboy,” You tell your friends, “Don’t wait up.”

You earn a few thumbs ups, a whistle and a “get it” that makes you laugh, before turning to snag the spot next to your man in black at the bar. You lean against the bar to catch his eye, standing close as you push your chest out, and tip your head. They’re brown, you think, warm like liquor and kept steadfastly forward. Must be having a staring contest with his own reflection. There’s a mask too. A black swath of fabric with a jaw bone painted onto it covering half his face. That explains why you couldn’t get a good look at him across the bar.

“So-” You start, only to be cut off.

Your cowboy holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "How much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.

"The hat."

"Not for sale."

“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could. His gaze drags over you, and you let it, feeling his eyes settle on the way you push your tits out, then trace down over your hip. Your skin prickles with warmth, your stomach fluttering excitedly. He drags those lovely brown eyes back to meet yours and hums, looking back at the mirror.

“How about a drink,” He says, motioning for the bartender.

“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”

“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.

“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. A glass of crystal moonshine is set in front of each of you. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass as his other hand tugs at his mask. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.

“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.

“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”

He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that alcohol never could. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”

Oh the way he says it, so deep and condescending, but inquisitive, makes a shiver run down your spine. You’d do anything to hear him call you that again. Including answering his question with the minimum amount of sass.

“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do you need my footie team too before you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips. 

He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand. 

You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. Too eager to remember he’s gotta pull his mask off first apparently. It’s warm and cotton-y. Not that you mind. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.

And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you. 

Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, want to feel your head spin as your thoughts turn to cotton. You think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat drop to pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.

“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name. 

“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.

“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.

He works your hips against his thigh, his lips sucking at your neck before his teeth dig into the blooming bruises. There’s something animal and desperate in his movements, something that speaks to a man who hasn’t had a woman in a long time. Good. You want all that pent up stress, all the need, that he can muster. You make a soft noise at the twitch of your hips, the tingle of need in your own body starting to soak your panties. It’s only when you start to feel that same wetness soaking the denim scraping your thighs that Simon pulls away.

“You drive stick?” He asks, the warmth of his iris consumed by dark black. You tip your head, pull him back to brush his lips against yours. You want him to keep kissing you, his lips just on the right side of chapped and his tongue exploratory. You hold onto his face until he grabs your wrists and pulls you off. “Manual, Princess. Want you in my bed before I fuck ya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You murmur, eyes fixed on his mouth, “I can drive stick.”

Simon pulls you away from where you’ve been plastered against the truck cab and opens the door. You squeak when he picks you up and sets you on the seat. Your eyes dart to the wet patch on his jeans, then to check out his ass when he leans down to grab his mask off the gravel. Damn.

You pull your door closed as Simon pulls himself into the driver's side of the cab, turning the ignition and switching gears. You always liked the click of the gear shift, but now the engine thrums in your blood, a heady promise of what’s to come. Simon grabs your hand from where it’s settled on your thigh to hold it under his on the gear shift. He shifts up a gear, then drops his hand to your thigh. His hand is big and warm, a bear’s paw gripping your leg, digging his fingers into your skin. You’re glad Amanda convinced you to wear a skirt.

“You shift when I tell you, alrigh’?” Simon asks, one hand sliding under the edge of your skirt as the other turns the wheel to leave the bar's parking lot. You nod quickly, your fingers tight on the stick shift as his skate across the edge of your panties. One thick finger tip drags along your sopping slit, feeling you through your underwear. He gives you the next gear and you pull the shift with a shaky hand, rushing to accommodate him, to show how well you follow directions(to not get the both of you killed if the engine stalls). His fingers don’t move, giving you space as you shift in your seat.

It’s different when you lean back against the seat again. His fingers press against you properly, teasing you through your panties with his thumb against your clit. The feeling of cotton against the sensitive bud, wet and cool from the night air, makes you whine, and push your hips towards his touch. Simon chuckles from the driver’s seat and you feel a wave of heat rush over you.

“Spread your legs love,” He orders, you’re quick to comply, going a step further to shuck your panties so he can touch you properly. After all, you’ve never been one to disregard an order that directly benefits you. Simon’s fingers touch you, spread your sticky slick folds with a pleased noise. He’s got calluses, you can feel the rough edges of them as he drags his fingers over you, and you follow the motion with a slight raise of your hips. “Eager thing, aren’t you?” Simon rumbles, you glance at him, at his lap. As if he’s one to talk.

His cock must be aching from pressing against his zipper like that. He says something you don’t hear, too busy trying to measure his bulge with your eyes. He smacks his fingers against your slit and you jerk your attention back to him. Shift down. Shift down, you can do that. You know how to do that. 

Your clit tingles when his fingers find it, still aching from the smack and desperate for attention. Simon rolls it between his fingers, pinching it enough to be felt before rubbing at it. Then he’s up and down your slit, spreading your slick as it drools from your pussy, lubing his fingers to keep toying with you. You try to keep your mind on his words, try to keep your brain from giving in to the feeling of it. He doesn’t stop rubbing just because you need to shift gears, and it drives you mad.

One thick fingers pushes into your cunt and you whine. Your toes curl as you try to force yourself down against the shallow thrusts he pumps in and out of you. The drag of his callused finger against your walls warms in the pit of your stomach. It’s more than your finger’s ever been but it’s still not enough. You want to feel the stretch of him, you’re sure you’ll need it. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit, your hips following the feeling. He pulls away just enough to add a second finger and you moan. 

The stretch is divine. Friction heat tugging at your entrance, pushing warmth through you with every pump. You do your best to fuck yourself on your cowboy’s fingers as the slick noise fills the cab of the truck. Your breathing is heavy, your whines turned to whimpers. He gives you just enough to make you eager for more. His fingers are slow and dutiful as they thrust into you, keeping you alert for his next command.

You try to reach for his cock, your fingers digging at his belt buckle. Only to have his fingers leave you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist to put it back on the gear shift.

“Gotta be patient, Princess,” He tells you, “you want somethin’ you ask for it.”

Your fingers tighten, and you spread your legs a little wider. “Make me come,” You tell him, because you don’t think he can do it at this angle, with his eyes on the road.

“Good girl.” The praise shoots through you like lightening, your nerves on fire when his fingers push back into you. Slow and steady is gone, replaced by a pace that makes your head spin. Simon’s fingers curl, hitting the soft spongy spot near your entrance until you’re seeing stars. There’s a tightness in your belly, and a heat that washes over your cunt. He keeps his attention on your hole, your tingling clit ignored in favor of punishing your cunt for your attitude. 

He doesn’t let up when he asks you to down shift. Your brain mush, your hips squirming as your muscles try to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. You barely manage to get down to the next gear before you’re consumed by the raging heat and tightness his fingers fuck into you. Your whimpers are full blown moans, his name on your lips as you attempt to find the brain cells to beg for him to let you come. It’s all too much, too tight. You can hear the wet squelch of his fingers louder than the blood rushing in your ears, louder than the rumble of the engine.

You feel wet, something dribbling over your cunt, as your head tips back to account for your eyes rolling. Your back arches and all your muscles shudder as Simon’s fingers work you through the slip-splash of wetness. He only slows enough for you to get your bearings. Just enough for you to take in the wetness on the dashboard and soaking the fingers he raises to your mouth. Another downshift, your eyes fixed on him more than the scenery, your tongue swirling around his fingers. 

Simon’s fingers leave your mouth to settle over your hand on the gear shift as you hit a gravel road. It’s so dark out, you could be anywhere, but Simon promised you a bed, and you don’t think a murderer would make you come before killing you. The truck is thrown into park, the engine switched off, your brain catches up just in time for Simon to open your door and pull you out. You’re tugged into a little house, and almost as quickly as the door is closed behind you, you’re set on your knees.

It’s dark in here too, but you can hear the rustle of denim, the groan of a man freeing his hard cock. You know your eyes will adjust, you’re already starting to make out the shadows of moonlight streaming in through the window, but you’re dying to see the monster you’d seen straining against his jeans. Simon’s hand finds your cheek, cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your lower lip.

“Open your mouth love,” He murmurs, “Lemme feel your tongue.”

You follow his command too eagerly. His shadow leans over you, huge in the darkness, and his tongue drags against yours before he pulls back and spits on it. Your breath stops short, your stomach flipping as it starts to kindle a new heat. Simon’s cock slaps against your tongue. It feels heavy, uncut, the skin soft and salty. He drags it over your tongue, barely dipping into your waiting mouth, lubing himself on his own spit. Your head goes a little fuzzy at the thought. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your cunt aching between your legs. As if he didn’t just get you off all over his truck.

It’s worth a little embarrassment for the way Simon groans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. He’s heavy on your tongue, weight against your jaw as he feeds you his cock. Inch by inch, so slow you can drag your tongue over the veins that thrum under his skin. Just the taste of him makes you want to buck your hips, and you reach to settle your hands on his thighs when he hits your gag reflex. 

He stills, your fingers digging into muscle and coarse hair. You take steadying breaths through your nose before pushing your head down again. Something bright and ringing like a bell in your head is desperate to know where he stops, to feel him stretching out your throat. You have to swallow, shake your head to find the spot that doesn’t make you gag, not that Simon seems to mind. You think he likes when you pull back, gasping, so you can spit on his fat length and try again. Sucking and bobbing your head as you take him deeper and deeper is the least you can do for this man. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel a swell of pride when your nose finally buries itself in the curls at the base of his cock.

Simon’s hand comes around to cup the back of your head, holding you there. You glance up at him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Good fucking girl,” He growls out, “Just made to take my cock aren’t ya?”

You hum around his length, roll your tongue against him as best you can. His fingers grip your hair and pull you back, your spit slicking his length even with just moonlight setting the room aglow. Simon holds you at the tip, letting you circle it with your tongue, sucking and swallowing down the pre-come that drools from him. Simon’s hips buck, a soft swear dropping from his lips as you take the unexpected inch. His hand leaves the back of your head, fixing his hat where it’s started to tip off you and gripping the sides of your head. You lean back to look up at him, blinking the static of dark vision from your eyes. 

“Gonna fuck this pretty face,” Simon tells you, his voice rough, like his vocal cords have been dragged through gravel. Despite the lack of tone, you know it’s a question, one you give a short nod to.

The first thrust of his hips is gentle, testing. You breathe through your nose, let him get acquainted with your gag reflex as you get used to the in and out feeling. Simon holds your head still, inching his cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You hold your tongue flat against the underside of his heavy length, feeling the pulse of blood, the twitch of muscle as he works himself faster and deeper. 

Your throat constricts and Simon pauses, before his hands yank you sharply, bypassing your gag and nestling you at the base of his cock. Your eyes water, your nose starting to run as your throat works around the intrusion. He stretches your throat around his thick cock, you can feel the press of him, uncomfortable but dripping warmth down your spine. Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, suck in a breath as you watch spit string between your lips and his cock. You get one good breath in before he’s fucking your face in earnest.

You whine around the fat cock testing the ache in your jaw as Simon’s hips snap against your lips. His balls slap against your chin, heavy and already pulling tight. You do your best to keep your mouth open, lips sucking at him as he moves. There’s an ache between your legs, a voice in the back of your mind that wishes it was your pussy getting this treatment. You can only imagine how deeply he’d hit you, the stretch of your lips around his cock making you prickle with ideas of the way he’d split your cunt open.

Simon pulls back with a low groan, and come hits your tongue before he’s pushing back in. You blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing as best you can as he comes down your throat. It’s a lot, enough that your hands leave his thighs to cup under your chin, waiting to catch the drool and spend that you’re sure is dripping from between your lips. Warm and bitter, you wonder what he’s been eating since he came to town, if he needs someone to put vegetables on his plate. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you tip your head back, swallowing the hot come still on your tongue. You open your mouth, tongue out to let him see that you’re empty.

Simon is silent. Something in his shining eyes seems to mirror yours. His thumb strokes over your tongue, with a hum that makes you think he’s got something on his mind. It feels almost sweet, almost affectionate, as his fingers stroke over your jaw. He crouches in front of you, and his hands leave you, only to reappear on your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder as he stands with nothing more than a grunt. His shoulder is broad and warm under your stomach, you drag your hands up the corded muscles of his back and feel a pulse of attraction thrum through the heat simmering in your stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.

You’re tossed onto what must be his bed. You bounce on the mattress and attempt to get your bearings in the low light. Simon’s hat tumbles off your head, and you glance about in the darkness for it. The lamp next to the bed clicks on and you flinch at the sudden rush of light. The wash of warm light is too much after so long in the dark, but you’re faster adjusting to this than the darkness. Simon settles a hand on your thigh, pulling you close as he settles on the bed beside you.

“On me love,” He murmurs and you drag your eyes to his face, “wanna see when you ride my face.”

Oh. He isn’t wearing his mask. His eyes are desperate, brows drawn low to shadow the watery browns that stare at you. His nose looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and there’s a scar running across his lips that tugs a little too much of his teeth into such a pretty picture. There’s something soft to him though, something aching in the length of his jaw that makes you want to hold him close. You must hesitate, must take too long looking at him.

“Tongue still works,” He teases you, the pink muscle dragging over the split in his lip, his teeth.

“You’re awfully pretty to be wearing a mask,” You smile, moving to settle your knees on either side of his ears. (Big enough ears you think he must’ve had to grow into them) Simon hums, his hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you down against his mouth. You can see pink starting to creep over his cheeks even as his tongue drags along your slit. The thought that Simon must not take compliments easily is erased from your mind as his lips close around your clit and suck hard.

The electric feeling jerks through your body. So much time on your knees worshiping a cock that should have been splitting you open left you buzzing and now you’re getting some well deserved relief. Simon’s tongue is hot as it splits your folds, wiggling to lap at the slick you’d been drooling before rolling against your clit. Each touch to the sensitive bud sends another zap of pleasure ripping up your spine. You whimper, your chest heaving with breaths you hardly have the chance to take with the way he sucks at you. One of Simon’s hands leaves you, fishing around on the bed beside you. You frown down at him, pout really, until you feel his hat settle on your head again.

“Gotta keep your- your claim on me?” You ask, though you don’t think your tone is quite right. Simon hums under you, a groan of assent. He tips his head, dragging long strokes of his tongue over your slit. You’re too worked up already, his mouth feels like a furnace, his tongue touches you like a brand. Your hips move on their own, following the course of Simon’s tongue, your clit bumping against his nose as you grind yourself against his mouth. Your fingers hold your skirt up out of the way, you may as well be planning to shred the thing with how tightly your fingers dig into the fabric. 

Simon stares up at you, his eyes closing with a satisfied groan as you grind a little more firmly against his tongue. Having his attention on you like this makes your stomach clench. You can feel his smile, feel his teeth just graze over your clit, teasing before he’s sucking at it. You squeeze his head between your thighs, half formed praises on your tongue as you feel your muscles start to tremble from the strain of your tightening orgasm. 

The longer he licks you the less you can hear your own thoughts, too consumed by the satisfied groans and slurping sounds between your legs. Simon eats you like a starving man getting his first meal. His hands move to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers, and spreading you open just to feel you. Your slick is smeared over his mouth, smeared over your thighs where his stubble has dragged it across your skin. You feel wet and warm, your cunt tingling on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. His tongue wiggles its way into your hole and you break.

“Fuck me.” You whine, your words almost sobs as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if it’s a demand or simply a needy expletive. It doesn’t stop Simon from sucking your clit hard, his tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches and the tension in your stomach bleeds out in a rush of shivers and moans. Your pleasure coursing through you as Simon licks and sucks at your cunt until you’re jerking at the new sensitivity.

Simon holds your hips, drags you down to sit on his stomach, the firm muscle flexing as your legs are forced further apart by the sheer width of the man. He drags your sensitive pussy against his stomach, letting the blond hair tickle your clit. You pout, settle your hands on his chest to hold yourself steady with even when your muscles still shiver with every twitch of your hips.

His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt when you demonstrate you can grind by yourself. Simon tugs it up over your head and you happily assist in undressing. He’s quicker with your bra, unhooking the clasp before you can shrug the straps off. Simons big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. The touch is firm, appreciative, he squeezes the soft skin and you whine.

“Lemme ‘ear it again, Princess.” Simon rumbles. You can feel his voice low in his chest. His hands drop back to your hips to guide you. You don’t need to think to know what he’s asking.

“Fuck me Simon,” You breath, leaning to kiss him. You pull your tongue over his lips, tip your head to clean your come off his face. His mouth opens to catch your tongue, pushing his own to meet yours as you dip it between his lips. His hands raise your hips, angling you to notch his cockhead against your entrance. 

You know this part, know the press of your hips down onto him, the breathless anticipation as he slowly stretches you. You must have forgotten how big he was on your tongue. You drop your head to rest your forehead against Simon’s cheek, the stretch of just his head making your eyes start to roll. His fingers stroke down your back, a comfort as you ease yourself down his length. Your every breath feels like it’s softened by a moan. The stretch of him burning against your entrance, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. You feel so tight around him you can feel the curve of his dick, the veins that line it, the ridge of his thick head. 

Your legs still shake from your orgasm. If it weren’t for Simon’s hands holding you, you would’ve sunk down to the base of his cock just from the inability to hold yourself up. You attempt to push yourself up from the way you’ve cuddled close to your cowboy, and he holds you tight. The hand which had been petting down your back presses firm between your shoulders, his other arm wrapping over your him. You wonder- and then he thrusts the rest of his fat length into you and you don’t wonder anything else.

You all but collapse on his chest, his arm tight on the small of your back, arches your hips up as you bury your face against his neck. You can feel the mattress dip where he plants his feet before you feel the drag of his cock out of you, and the sweet friction of it sliding back home inside you. You dig your teeth into Simon’s shoulder, the scarred skin dipping under your bite as he fucks up into you.

Each stroke of his cock is like a punch in your stomach. The stretch of your cunt around him, his cockhead hitting your sweet spot every time it nudges your entrance, only adds to the devastating length of him. Your eyes roll, your voice tight when you have the air to let it escape you. He hits something inside you that almost hurts with how good it feels, the electricity of it shivering up your spine and tightening your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push your hips back into the feeling.

“Tha’s it, sweet’eart,” Simon murmurs in your ears, “Jus’ like that.”

You whine at the praise, at the groan that follows it. He keeps you held so tightly against him, your nipples dragging against his firm chest with each thrust. You try to kiss at his neck, lips parting to pant with each pull of his cock. He fills you so full and deep you can hardly think. You’ve never had anyone hold you like this, never had anyone fuck you with the same sort of intense desperation. Simon’s lips press to your temple, his hips snapping to meet your weak thrusts with the wet squelching sounds of pleasure following.

Trying to draw a full breath is too much, you moan and squeak against Simon’s skin. Your lips travel over the scarred flesh, your teeth desperate to mark, to hold onto something as your fingers curl against his firm chest. There’s nothing for you to do but hold on and let this man take his pleasure from your body. Your hips stutter, the pleasure hitting you too tightly to keep your muscles moving. The tension in your muscles doesn’t stop Simon’s movements. His groans turn to growls, his lips moving with silent praise as he pistons into your clenching cunt. 

The drag of his skin against your soft walls, the burn of friction, coupled with the deep punch of his cock drives you to the edge and holds you there. Every twitch and movement making sparks of pleasure light up your skin. Your muscles shake with the burn of contraction, the ache of being split open. Your cunt burns with desperate heat, and you snake one of your hands down to rub tight circles over your clit. It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. Your cunt flutters, sucking at Simon’s cock as the attention to your clit shoots up your spine and melts over your muscles. You fall apart, and just as sincerely you fall against Simon’s chest, panting and whimpering his name on every stroke.

He fills you fast, his cock stilled inside your cunt as you feel it twitch. Heat fills you, burns you, marks you from the inside. Simon moans low in the back of his throat. He gives a few short thrusts, enjoying the clutch of your pussy, as you settle into the floating feeling of satisfaction. He pulls out and you feel his come drip out of your hole, sliding through your folds to pool against his softening cock.

"What is your favorite footie team?" Simon asks once he's found his breath. You yawn, wiggling to cuddle against him.

"Reds," You murmur, and hear him snort out a short laugh.

"Liverpool?"

"Can't all be Man U fans," You sigh, and Ghost thinks your voice must be like honey the way it sticks to his mind, "Someone's gotta win games."

Ghost bites down his smile, feeling the way you unspool against him. Your body going lax and your breathing evening out. Do you trust him so readily that you'd fall asleep like this? You barely know him, hell he doesn't even know your name, but here you are.

“Gonna keep you,” He tells you, it feels like speaking sin into the world, tainting this perfect thing that's fallen into his lap, but he's too greedy to care, “Not le’in’ you go, can’t.”

You don’t answer him with anything more than a half asleep hum. Your lashes flutter against his skin, your face pressed against his neck. Wrapped around him with all the comfort he could ask for. Ghost swallows, turns his head to press his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the sweat of sex. Such a pretty thing to fall into his arms so willingly. You compliment him too well, know what he wants before he asks for it. He’d be a fool to let you go. No, he’s keeping you, you’re the sort of girl men chase after with wedding rings, and he can already hear the bells ringing for him.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x oc #oc: goose #cowboy au #cowboy!ghost #cowgirl!reader #f!reader #minors do not interact

[blorbocedes]

let me take you guys on a journey. one that will help you understand how annoyingly obsessive and hung up my brain can get......

so here is where our wild goose chase starts. I was going through a 2012 f1 blog's nico tag. it's actually pretty rare for early 2010s blogs to have comprehensive tagging systems so whenever I find one I try to go thru it all. and I come across this v cute nico image (cropped for posterity. payoff will be worth it promise)

here we have a picture, from 2012, and in classic 2012 fashion there is meme text on it. OP of the original pic deactivated. so I want to find the version without the meme text. pretty easy, just reverse google search right?

WRONG!

google reverse search is functionally dead and defunct and absolutely dogshit.

ok back to square one. I'm trying to sus out from whatever information I have.

the other meme watermark of f1humour.tumblr.com? deactivated.

okay 37 notes. maybe I can do something with this.

tumblr kind of breaks (?) with very old posts. so even if someone tagged it, I can't see it. ok but 14 people liked it!

of the 14 accounts only 7 actually show, including mine. so what I do is I go through 6 of those blogs, and their public archives because those accounts are all inactive for several YEARS now. and I check their blogs for April 2012.

no luck.

back to the drawing board.

the meme has a MOTORSPORT.COM watermark.

here's all the information I have: this was posted on April 24th, 2012, which means that's my upper limit on the date this could be taken. Nico got in Mercedes in 2010. So from anywhere between 2010-2012 motorsport images couldve taken this pic.

so, because I was born with excessive intelligence, I think hmmm... let me search the archives of Motorsport Images dot com. surely that is where Motorsport dot com would keep their Images.

two years of a racing driver's pictures means thousands of pictures. okay. let's start from April 2012. unfortch for keen eyed listening, April 2012 was also the Chinese Grand Prix aka Nico's first f1 win.

why is that relevant? because it means every photographer and their MOTHER took a picture of nico for his first win. over 900+ images.

while I am exhibiting extremely unemployed levels of behavior here, I don't actually have the time and brain capacity to sift through 900 images.

I go back to the original tumblr post. this time I go to the empty reblogs. there's lots!

but because there's no tags it can't help me. still I go through every one of them because you can see the blog I found the pic from @the-fastest-waffle is listed in the other reblogs even though they clearly had tags!

and I find my silver lining. from @fuckyeahf1drivers's tags

just this simple. #bahrain #lol

if this picture is from bahrain 2012 it changes everything, as in it narrows my search a shit tonne.

375 images. This means 1-15 pages and I know the exact picture I'm looking for. I feel like I'm SO close. I can't give up now. gambler mentality 💎

so I guess what. I go through all 15 goddamn pages. and I DONT FIND IT!!!!!!!!! SCREEEEEECH

now I've lost hope. if it's not from bahrain 2012 then it can be from anywhere from 2010-2012 taken by motorsport.com which is just too big a search. there isn't anything I can narrow it down with. my search is futile.

but I have one tiny little thought bugging my mind. how come motorsport images don't have the motorsport.com watermark... so I consult a fellow archivist @vegasgrandprix on the matter.

WE AS A SOCIETY NEED TO ADDRESS WHY MOTORSPORT.COM AND MOTORSPORT IMAGES.COM HAVE THE SAME FONT

finally. finally

I go on motorsport.com

which is actually kind of not super user friendly interface finding their pics if you have excessive intelligence like I do. I go into this knowing if the bahrain 2012 long shot is actually NOT when that picture is from, I'm fucked.

I filter and say a prayer.

and lo and behold.

salvation.

one person's singular tag of 'bahrain 2012 lol' led me down this spiral, where if it wasn't for that bit of information this would be lost forever because finding the version of the pic without the meme text is otherwise near impossible. google reverse search is no help, and f1 drivers simply get photographed way too much. reblogs + tags with context literally are a holy grail. this is what I imagine archaeologists feel like. so if you ever want someone 12 years after you've posted something to go down finding out, tag your posts accordingly (assuming tumblr survives the next decade)

so why did I do it? why did I spend hours of my life on this? cause it's fun. it's like a mystery and it itches at my skin. many times I'm not successful which is why the times I am feels so rewarding because it feels almost like detective work, finding and refinding something, overturning evidence. and I have a brain that just functions Like This.

and now for the fruit of my labour, if you guys still want to see. the picture I spent hours to find the original version of. sitting proudly at the time of posting at 9 notes 😌😌 here's what goes behind actually finding and archiving 2010s retired f1 drivers online. click below!

👇👇👇

👆👆👆

#welcome to my dark twisted evil mind #if you read the whole thing... I hope u shared this journey with me. kiss! #the effort behind a stupid shitpost lol. this is what nobody sees #nico rosberg

[rainbowsky]

Hi RBS

Why gg is related to little prince in that little prince and rose story??

Hi Anon,

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupéry is a classic, exceptionally popular, beautifully told and illustrated story. Those who haven't read it can find it here.

Standard disclaimer: This is my own personal opinion based on my own interpretation of tidbits I've learned over the years. Everyone is free to come up with their own.

If you ask a solo they'll give you a completely different story than a turtle would about how The Little Prince is connected to GG, but I think GG's (and DD's) connection to that story runs far deeper than anything any fan - solo or turtle - can claim.

The Solo Interpretation

The solo interpretation revolves around the prince's red cape and the many references to the red cape that GG has made in his art and on social media over the years, which many believe were in response to fan activity.

The first reference came during a live broadcast of XFIRE, where GG created a pencil drawing of a boy wearing a cape and holding a ball. Later he posted a colored version of the image on his social media, where it was revealed that the boy was wearing a red cape and holding a glowing moon.

His fans named themselves Xiao Fei Xia (Chinese for 'Peter Pan') after seeing the image. The name sounds like Chinese for 'small fat shrimp', which is why XFX are often called shrimps (or tempuras, in malicious references).

When his fans won him a solo song, he posted a photo of a boy wearing a crown and a red cape. He later changed his Weibo badge to The Little Prince in a red cape. In Nov 2019 he posted an image of himself on Oasis with a red cape and crown drawn on.

"But why do they think The Little Prince is about them, when they call themselves Peter Pans?" you might ask.

That is a somewhat ambiguous connection, but as far as I can tell it's because of the idea that he's their Little Prince and they are his Peter Pans. The song Satisfaction - which was meaningful to GG and his fans - was connected to the image he shared of the boy wearing the cape and crown. There is also the red cape connection. They wear a red cape, and 'their Little Prince' wears one too. Red is GG's color, and the color XFX identify their fandom with.

A Deeper Connection

In any case, like I said - I think GG's connection to the Little Prince goes deeper than fandom, and the simplest answer to why it has become so connected with him is that he loves the story. It means a lot to him, and on some level he really identifies with the character.

And it's not difficult to see why both GG and DD identify with this story. I actually wrote a whole thing about that a while ago on my blog but of course, I can't find it now. So frustrating.

The Little Prince presents a lot of themes about personal development, love, acceptance, self-acceptance, friendship and found family that resonate with queer readers, with artistic/creative people, and with anyone who has had to live with loneliness or isolation (such as incredibly famous people who are forced to live somewhat separate from the rest of the world). There are themes about grief and loss, and about different points of view.

To me, the story is about how wisdom comes through wonder. More than anything, The Little Prince is about maintaining one's sense of childlike wonder and sensitivity in the face of all the pains and trials of life, and in spite of all attempts to kill our spirit. No matter what we have lost and long for, we can find beauty in the love we have and the connections we make.

It is that spirit of wonder that makes everything special, and makes us special too. It's what makes us able to look beneath the surface and see what's really important.

This is something GG quite obviously values very deeply. He has referred to DD as a sweet, pure-hearted boy in the past, and has spoken appreciatively about the fact that DD has managed to keep a sense of childishness and guilelessness despite being in this industry for so long, and from such an early age.

And GG himself displays those qualities in abundance. He has a very light-hearted, sweet, wonderstruck, sensitive, curious, cute side that is a huge part of the magnetism of his personality. We see this come out a lot in his downtime, such as when he was at Universal Studios, or when he was wandering the streets of Europe. One of the things that is most compelling about him is his willingness to show that side of himself, even as a grown man.

This is - as I've said many times - part of GG and DD's incredible chemistry and compatibility. They share their own little world, and this world of fun, laughter, sweetness, mischievousness and curiosity - the spirit of learning, exploring and cackling together like gremlins - this is all very much aligned with the themes of The Little Prince.

Even the moments of loneliness and separation and coming back together again, the stars in the sky and the ringing of bells - all of this is connected to the story of The Little Prince.

And if you believe the CPN about GG's birthday letter to DD (which I definitely do), this is a message GG gives DD: grow up slowly. That idea has appeared in fake rumors and other references in the fandom. And it's very aligned with the themes of The Little Prince.

From the book: (mild spoilers for those who haven't read it). Slightly abridged.

...he looked at me steadily, and replied to my thought:

“I am thirsty, too. Let us look for a well...”

I made a gesture of weariness. It is absurd to look for a well, at random, in the immensity of the desert. But nevertheless we started walking.

“What makes the desert beautiful,” said the little prince, “is that somewhere it hides a well...”

I was astonished by a sudden understanding of that mysterious radiation of the sands. When I was a little boy I lived in an old house, and legend told us that a treasure was buried there. To be sure, no one had ever known how to find it; perhaps no one had ever even looked for it. But it cast an enchantment over that house. My home was hiding a secret in the depths of its heart...

“Yes,” I said to the little prince. “The house, the stars, the desert—what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!”

As the little prince dropped off to sleep, I took him in my arms and set out walking once more. I felt deeply moved, and stirred. It seemed to me that I was carrying a very fragile treasure. It seemed to me, even, that there was nothing more fragile on all Earth. In the moonlight I looked at his pale forehead, his closed eyes, his locks of hair that trembled in the wind, and I said to myself:

“What I see here is nothing but a shell. What is most important is invisible...”

As his lips opened slightly with the suspicion of a half-smile, I said to myself, again: “What moves me so deeply, about this little prince who is sleeping here, is his loyalty to a flower—the image of a rose that shines through his whole being like the flame of a lamp, even when he is asleep...” And I felt him to be more fragile still. I felt the need of protecting him, as if he himself were a flame that might be extinguished by a little puff of wind...

And, as I walked on so, I found the well, at daybreak.

Bottom line: Be who you are, stay true to yourself, don't let the world destroy all the soft, sweet, fun, creative, childlike, insightful, open-hearted parts of you.

You are special because of what you love.

GGDD and The Little Prince

Both GG and DD have been repeatedly associated with The Little Prince, and both have been referred to as "little prince" by fans. The Little Prince and his rose have been beloved by turtles as a frequently occurring candy/CPN in the fandom for years.

This started for DD back in his Uniq days. There's an example of this in an early Uniq interview. At the start each group member is being introduced, and their group role is listed onscreen along with the names fans use to refer to them, DD's nicknames are listed as "White Peony, Little Prince." (They're all such babies here!! 🥺)

And he really is a Little Prince, both in terms of his youthful, pure-hearted wonder and in terms of his appearance. There are countless examples of Prince Bobo.

Both GG and DD have been associated directly with the story of The Little Prince, in that both have performed readings of the story - GG in 2018, DD in 2018 and 2019.

(Sorry, no Eng subs for that last one).

The brand Roseonly created many Little Prince themed items back when GG was endorsing them.

The recent photoshoot DD did for T Magazine was themed around The Little Prince, and people saw similar references in the photoshoot GG did for Marie Claire.

The Little Prince - CPN

There are too many CPN references to The Little Prince - or to elements from the story - to list them all here, but here are a few:

The Name

One of the things BXG get excited about is that in Chinese, The Little Prince is actually called 小王子 (Xiao Wang Zi - literally 'little king child'). While the character 小 (Xiao, meaning 'little') isn't the same as the Xiao character used in GG's name (his name uses 肖, which is a Chinese surname), they are pronounced the same*.

*Incidentally, 小 is the same character that connects XFX to the Peter Pan name, '小飞侠' or 'Xiao Fei Xia'.

I think it's also likely that it's a big part of why GG and DD feel a connection to The Little Prince - because in Chinese, it references/connects their names.

They both love word play and have connected their names in the past - in the BTS when they were filming the library scene and GG wrote WangXiao with the calligraphy brush, on DDU when they were asked to come up with a team name and DD suggested BJYX and GG suggested Yizhan instead. It's very much in keeping with their personalities to enjoy that connection.

The Huang Ziteng post

Back in 2020 Huang Ziteng made a social media post that referenced The Little Prince. It consisted of a photo of a Little Prince figurine and thank you card with a rose pin. The text of the post read, "The child told me he received a gift, so happy. "The most important things cannot be seen, but must be felt with the heart." It was posted on September 13 at 18:23 (Yizhan - Yibo Loves Zhan).

The Birthday Cake

When DD rode his motorcycle out to spend GG's birthday together back in 2018, the birthday cake was Little Prince themed.

There was also a restaurant scene or photo from the set of Gank Your Heart where the Little Prince cake topper randomly appeared on the table. Does anyone else remember that? I can't find the actual photo, but it was very 👀.

A Dream Like A Dream

When A Dream Like A Dream premiered in Wuhan, the theatre plaza was overrun with flowers for GG, and he had to make a statement asking fans not to bring flowers. Fans got together and gave flowers away all over the city. GG posted a photo of a single rose, which turtles believed was sent to him by DD.

The caption: "With love, the sun warms the spring." The kadian "Love Zhan, My Bo."

Day Day Up

DDU was a source for a few Little Prince-related CPN. There was a Little Prince figurine on the DDU set, next to a skateboard,

and of course everything surrounding The Brightest Star in the Sky.

DD has frequently been referred to as the 'lonely star', and there is a great deal of CPN about GGDD and stars.

There's also a fake rumor that after DD's motorcycle accident back in 2020, GG was overheard recording a voice message for DD and saying, "you always shine brightly."

There are too many star references to mention. Also too many moon references to mention. There is a LOT of CPN that connects to The Little Prince. It comes up quite often in the fandom. I'm not going to try to gather them all here. Suffice it to say that it's very well solidified as something turtles feel a deep connection with.

Either/or is such a bitch

One of the things I find really frustrating about fan culture is that it is so warlike. Never is this more apparent then when talking about things like this. Solos believe The Little Prince references are for them. Turtles often believe the references are for them, or involve GG and DD referencing each other.

Just a reminder to everyone - it's quite possible for BOTH to be true.

It's quite possible for GG and DD to find all of these things significant at the same time. It's quite possible for us to allow all those significances to coexist without making them into a battle.

More than anything, the references are for and about GG and DD. We can share our excitement for them because we're all their fans. We all love them. It doesn't have to be a fight.

#bjyx #yizhan #the mysteries of yizhan #solos belong to moling su sect #ask

[lucysarah-c]

Not sure if this is like, allowed to be answered and feel free not to of course. But reaction to Levi finding out someone tried to assault his s/o, or just hurting them in general like a more targeted instance rather than a battle, even before they are partners and could just be friends, you think more of a quick death or Levi would get sorta sadistic?

Have a great one 🐞 and thanks for always feeding us amazing works

Hi dear! Ah, no one has called me "bug" in years!!! Haha, thank you—that was so sweet of you!

Don’t thank me! Thank you for reading and stopping by my blog.

I really like this ask… Maybe because I’ve had a similar scenario in mind for my fic, but I just can't seem to find the right approach to it. I’ll try my best here! I’m 100% a "violence doesn’t solve anything" kind of person, and even when someone is truly horrible, I can't stand seeing them get hurt, especially physically. I’m that "sensitive" type, sorry haha. I feel Levi would say something similar to what my mother always tells me: "Don’t try to be more Catholic than the Pope" (a saying we have in Argentina, meaning "Don’t be too nice because people will take advantage of you. Be a little bit tough when necessary").

So, I’ll be completely honest with you: No, this ask doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But I do believe that Levi would resort to violence in certain situations. Levi killed a couple of guys just because they messed with Isabel’s hair. If his special someone (be it a friend, girlfriend, etc.) got hurt or was assaulted, Levi wouldn’t wait to see if she filed a report or went to the police.

He would simply stare at her and demand, "Who was it? Do you know them? Can you identify them?"

If it happened recently and she still shows signs of the struggle, she might try to downplay it. "It’s over now… It doesn’t hurt that much—"

"I didn’t ask if it hurt or if it was over. I asked who did it," he’d reply firmly.

She might avoid giving straight answers, trying to brush it off, perhaps out of shock, embarrassment, or fear—fear for Levi and the trouble he might get into. "I already filed a report and—"

"Have you ever seen any of those bastards behind bars because of a report?" Levi would counter. "Who was it? Give me a name."

"I pressed charges—"

"I’m sorry to break it to you, but men aren’t scared of charges. They know they can get away with it. They know they have friends who will bail them out, who will erase the charges, who will stand up for them," Levi explained. "Do you know what the only thing those assholes fear is? Being treated and beaten down the way they treat others. Beasts like them only understand their own language."

If the person responsible is someone Levi can’t directly deal with, like a higher-ranking officer or an MP, he’d still find a way to make them pay. He’d beat them up so thoroughly and probably in public to humiliate them. Levi knows the military can't afford to lose him, so while he might not be able to kill them, he’d ensure they couldn't sit straight for a long time. The most sadistic I can imagine him being is if he beats them so badly that they end up begging for mercy. And then Levi, lifting them by their hair, would say, "Don’t beg me—beg her."

Now, if the perpetrator is a regular citizen… they’re dead without a second chance. I can’t see Levi being sadistic in the sense of torturing someone, but he wouldn’t give them a quick death either.

So, that’s it. I hope I managed to write this well enough!

Thank you so much!

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[kentophilia]

oh my god, they were roommates!

contains: character x character, alcohol consumption, smoking, frotting, anal fingering, sub!toji, dom!nanami, whiney toji, something something bisexual tojinana <3

wc: 2k

a/n: this was only supposed to be a flashback for The Threesome but i got carried away >///< it's my first time writing character x character so please bear with me. gentle reminder that my requests are still open, please read my rules! :3

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

minors, ageless and empty blogs will be blocked immediately!

the lock clicked and in stumbled toji and kento, both very drunk and very horny. they sported a fat boner each, feeling too awkward to look at each other despite being roommates for years.

they both took off their shoes and jackets, an uncomfortable silence hanging over them. kento was in the middle of getting them both a glass of water when toji blurted out: “wanna make out?”

the blond man could only nod.

toji had drunkenly confessed to kento that he thinks he might like guys too, in that slurred speech he always has when intoxicated. kento, a heavyweight in drinking and still feeling quite sober, was taken aback but also intrigued. so he stayed quiet.

“ah, forget i ever said anything, i’m just drunk.” toji had waved him off when kento wanted to talk to him about it later. “let's get more shots!”

well, those few shots later, toji had brought the topic up again, cigarette in hand.

“y’know, if i was gay, i’d fuck ya, ken,” he slurred. kento took a long drag from his cigarette, looking at his roommate with raised eyebrows.

“i mean, what's not t’like? y’r handsome, smart, come from a good family and you make people very happy from what i heard.” the black-haired man winked at him and took another swig from his beer. toji laughed boisterously when kento cringed at that last part and its insinuation. the walls were thin and the amount of times they had heard each other fuck was astronomical.

“thanks, toji. but who's saying you’d do the fuckin’?” kento retorted, causing toji to swiftly choke on his beer. when their gazes met, the tension started to rise, a spark waiting for a match to strike.

“i ain't no bottom.”

well, that statement was quickly retracted when, in their drunken stupor, kento and toji found themselves on their shared couch. lips conjoined, spit swapped and toji whimpering under kento's touch. toji was trapped under kento’s large build, his thick legs wrapped around the other’s waist and hips seemingly having a mind of their own.

toji leaned back, panting, “i've never had anything in my ass before, not even a finger.”

“y’sure you don't wanna try? feels good from what i heard,” kento murmured against toji’s wet lips. toji was flushed, crimson rising from his chest to his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “you tried it?” he whispered, scared to talk any louder.

kento nodded, pulling his shirt over his head. “only on my own though, but it did feel nice. and my gay friends can't seem to get enough of it, so there must be something to it.” he delved down to toji’s jaw, leaving gentle kisses in his wake.

toji whined, feeling out of his element since he usually did that part. taking care of someone, their pleasure, making them flustered and see stars. it was embarrassing for him to be in that position but not necessarily unpleasant. kento’s lips against his scorching skin felt… really good, actually. his hands were everywhere, on kento’s shoulders, in his hand, on his back, his hips, his—

toji sobered up very quickly there, apologizing profusely when he was interrupted by kento gently taking his hand, cold into warm, and placed it on his heavy bulge. he then placed his own on toji’s, forcing a whimper out of the mean-mugged man at the friction.

“it's okay. you can always say stop and we’ll stop. i won't do anything you don't want, toji. i just wanna make you feel good. because i am.”

as those words left kento’s lips, toji pulled him down, their lips crashing together once more. as their tongues danced around each other, toji pushed kento back, straddling him. he felt like he was going to explode, arousal thickening his blood to the point where toji couldn't think straight anymore.

they only parted for toji to almost rip off his shirt out of nervousness. as soon as the fabric was gone, he dove right back in, teeth clacking against kento’s. the blond man chuckled at toji’s eagerness. it was a little awkward, big hands and muscles everywhere but neither complained. the seams of their jeans created the most delicious friction on their restrained cocks.

“kentooo…feels so good,” toji whined, drool threatening to spill out of his mouth. kento could only watch with half-lidded eyes, watching intently where their clothed bodies met. he never in his wildest dreams would've thought that toji, his roommate, one of his closest friends, the loudest, rudest and most confident man he knew, would fall apart like this.

the heat between them felt like an impending supernova and they shed themselves of their clothes, trying to combat it. sure, they'd seen each other naked at home on accident – more or less – and after practice in the showers. but still, seeing toji’s build – and cock – right in front of his face made kento flustered. little did he know that toji felt the same.

the latter got comfortable on kento’s lap again, their dicks touching and twitching against each other. a warm hand wrapped around their lengths and kento started a slow jerking motion. a simultaneous groan of “oh fuuuck” erupted from their chests, their hips moving in tandem. toji let drool run down his lips onto their cocks, lubricating whatever kento was doing to him. toji didn't understand, mind too hazy from the alcohol and the arousal rushing all the way down to his dick.

“ken, please,” toji whimpered, “more.”

kento could only oblige, how could he say no when he was asked so nicely, all breathy and desperate?

he moved his hand faster, the friction becoming almost too much to bear. toji’s spit and their precum made it more slippery, adding to the intoxicating rush.

toji gripped kento’s shoulders, nails leaving indents with the ferocity he was holding onto the other man and kento groaned. the blond man leaned forward, lips attaching to toji’s collarbone, sucking on the damp skin.

“need, haa… need more, kento. please, wanna try it,” the raven-haired male whimpered, the alcohol making it hard to finish without added stimulation. kento could barely make out the words. but when his brain finally registered them, he gasped and gripped toji's face, squishing the latter’s cheeks. the hand that was currently jerking them off halted and toji cried out.

“what'd you say?” kento inquired, heart and mind racing.

“mmm – wanna try it. wanna have your fingers in me, please?” toji begged through smushed cheeks. kento paused, trying to sober up and bring himself back to earth. there were tears making their way to toji’s dark eyes at the silence that settled between them. scared that he'd asked too much of his roommate, toji tried to wiggle out of kento’s grasp, but to no avail.

“let me get some lube then.” kento’s gentle voice reached toji’s bright red ears and he was gently pushed off the other’s lap and onto the soft couch before kento sprinted to his room. he emerged soon enough, a small bottle in his hand.

“it'd hurt without it,” he mused, awkwardly wiggling it between his fingers. toji let out a huff through his nose, shuffling around. “how d’ya want me?”

they were back to their original position, kento hovering above toji, lube being warmed up between his fingers. toji spread his legs, looking away with a burning blush as he exposed himself.

kento gave him a warm smile. “you sure you wanna do this? and with me?”

toji gave a nod, his blush intensifying. “yeah. if anyone puts a finger in my ass, i'd want it to be you. and we already got this far,” he grumbled, feeling even more exposed under kento's attentive gaze. the blond man breathed out an “okay” before leaning back on his haunches. “i've never done this to another person before either so we're somewhat in the same boat.”

toji laughed, “oh yeah, totally the same thing.”

kento cringed at himself and got more comfortable, putting a throw pillow under toji's hips for more leverage. one hand was spreading the cheeks while the other found toji’s twitching hole, spreading some lube onto it. toji flinched and relaxed immediately, the sensation so unfamiliar to him. kento circled his finger around it, registering toji’s noises and reactions.

pushing past the tight ring of his entrance, toji let out a pornographic whine. one that made him slap his hands on his mouth out of embarrassment. kento smiled, peeling them off. “there's no one here, keep ‘em comin’.”

toji didn't know what to do with his hands, fingers twitching and rummaging to find something, anything to hold on to while kento provided him with pleasure. it was so unfamiliar, a little sting at the stretch but it felt so good. kento started thrusting his finger in and out of toji’s hole, his mouth agape and sweat running down his temple. toji started moaning unabashedly, eyes threatening to close but the need to watch kento was stronger. he was so focused on the way toji’s hole was sucking him in and toji swore he could feel his heart flutter.

kento started pushing in a second finger gently, feeling the resistance of toji's hole and slowly but surely edging it away. the black-haired man squirmed, gasping, “oh fuck, oh fuck!” at every gentle thrust.

kento started curling his fingers, seemingly looking for something in toji’s velvet walls. “digging for gold?” toji giggled and suddenly whimpered when kento pressed against a certain spot, precum running out of his swollen tip. “found it,” kento chuckled.

“wh-wha…what's that?” toji questioned, barely able to string a cohesive sentence together due to the white hot pleasure burning through his body.

kento grinned, adjusting their positions without pulling out, toji straddling him again on wobbly knees. “it's your prostate – s’posed to make ya feel really good,” kento murmured, still moving his fingers slowly. toji whined and started moving his hips, desperately trying to find that kind of pleasure again.

kento gripped both of their cocks again, a low moan emitting from his throat at the friction. toji kept grinding on his fingers, the ecstasy multiplied by kento’s warm hand and their cocks twitching against each other. “that's it, keep moving,” kento ordered and toji obliged, chasing his orgasm. the blond man started increasing the pace on his jerking, every tug more delicious than the last.

kento felt himself grow close. toji’s hole warm and clenching around his fingers, the cock hot and heavy against his and the sinful whimpers right in his ear had him spiraling quickly. he curled his fingers again, pressing against toji’s prostate and keeping the rough pads of his digits right there. toji reacted immediately, almost shouting at this point, white flashing behind his eyelids. his eyes were screwed shut, loud moans of “please, please – gonna cum” echoing in kento’s ears. he stored that away for later.

“go ahead, cum for me, toji,” kento whispered loud enough for the other to hear. toji’s burning gaze found his as he spilled all over kento’s hand, hole clenching and unclenching almost as rhythmically as his heart. a moan of kento’s name spilled from toji’s spit-slicked lips as he rode out his high, effectively pushing kento towards his. expletive groans left kento’s throat as he made an even bigger mess of them both, slowing down both of his hands as the overstimulation set in.

he let go of their softening cocks and pulled out his fingers with a lewd squelch, feeling toji slump against him. he quickly wiped his hands on the shirt that was thrown over the backrest before returning his touch to the man on top of him.

“i would've done this sooner if i’d known how good it is,” toji mumbled sleepily against kento’s shoulder. the latter chuckled and patted the damp black hair. “you always know better afterwards.”

“you know what would've made it even better?” toji murmured, heartbeat slowing down and drowsiness taking over. kento hummed in question.

“having a girl sit on my face.”

that was the last thing toji said about it before dozing off and kento struggling to get him into bed. though, he kept that information safely hidden in the back of his mind.

they never mentioned it again after that, acting like nothing had changed. but the underlying sexual tension never truly left their friendship.

tags: @nkogneatho @kentocidal @the-masked-ram and thank you to @teddybeartoji @togamest and @cockaiine for proofreading :3 mwah! @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

© kentophilia 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.

#✮⋆˙ salem writes #house of solis occasum #꩜— interstellar communications #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #toji x nanami #tojinana #IDK WHAT TO TAG BRO #cw alcohol mention #cw: alcohol mention #tw: alcohol mention #tw alcohol mention #cw smoking #cw: smoking #cw: ass play #cw ass play

[kit-williams]

Home is where the heart is... so where is my heart?

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@the-californicationist (You might like Horus ((Before he turned evil))) @justeverythingnothingelse (Since you kinda asked for this)

tw: Smut, canon compliant breeding kink

Word Count: 2437 (6 pages on Google Docs) ((I use docs to check the word count))

As always thank you @squishyowl for the dividers

Horus at one point loathed to return to his quarters alone... when his Mournival came it made it feel less cold but that wasn't always the case and he would come back to the room alone. You helped keep it neat and tidy but Horus tried his best to fill it with things... knickknacks... the walls in far more private rooms had graffiti that reminded him of home but all he tried to do only made it feel like a parody.

No matter how close he got it to look like an old ganger hideout that he remembers so vividly... it lacks the feeling... the smell of bodies passing through... the appearance that someone else other than him has been there. You find him so very glum as you feel brave enough to try and ask your Primarch what is wrong and listen to his woe...

"Would... would you like me to help with that sire?" You offered and you see that he almost jumps with excitement like a dog almost.

"Um what would you propose." He says with restrained eagerness.

He no longer dreaded returning to his quarters as there was at least one other person! Not the size of a gang that he wanted to share a space with but... he had his mournival always around him so he could survive having at least one person around at all times. He got you to move in basically when the Primarch told you what he was so use to... he didn't like to live alone... sure he could sleep alone but the sterile living quarters or bachelors pad that it was made him go crazy.

You moved in full time just adding your touch to living there and it made him actually relax while he was there. You were on the large sofa sewing patches on your clothes... He could just get you new ones... though... one of those was your favorite blouse. "What happened to your blouse?" He said leaning on the back of the couch.

"Popped a button." You say as he looks at how one of the buttons over where your breasts would be had popped. Horus bit his tongue as he looked you over and indeed... your breasts had grown slightly sending a fire to his loins. Not only that just... just the fact you were here verses your own quarters doing your mundane chores; once he caught you here on your day off just relaxing and doing some sewing as you watched a drama on your cogitator... eventually he pushed it onto the large screen as the two of you sat on his couch watching tv as you were sewing what he later learned was a baby blanket for another serf... He remembers holding it and looking at the little animals on it... he liked babies... he babied some of his own sons... but they weren't his babies...

"Horus?" You say looking up at him as he was zoning out.

"Hmm? Sorry..."

"It's fine you're just staring at my blouse still... do you want to talk about it?"

"No... do you want dinner?" Horus put the blouse back down.

"Augh thank you for reminding me." You said starting to pack things up, "I finished cleaning-"

"Where are you going?" Horus says frowning.

"Back to my quarters?" You pause as you're surprised by this sudden line of questioning.

"Why?"

"I have to get started on dinner?"

"Just eat here." Horus says waving his hand.

You let out an exacerbated sigh, "My Lord-"

"Why are you getting formal on me?"

"Horus!" You say stopping him from continuing on and he looks at you... and you just let any annoyance leave you as you see him look at you with some look in his eyes that silently pleaded with you to stay. "I... Just.... You don't have anything in your fridge for me." You finally relent as he just gives you a genuine smile as you sit back down and return to sewing.

"I'll get something nice brought for you... we can always get ingredients for you to use."

"Your kitchen is huge."

"But your quarters are so far..." He whined before you could feel him suddenly beside you. "So... what if you got closer quarters?"

"If I lived closer?" You say as you were getting dangerously close to moving into the same quarters as him, stars above if that happened...

"Would you eat dinner with me more?" He said as his hands move over your shoulders, his large thumbs gently rubbing against the back of your neck and you just groan in enjoyment at the sudden massage.

"Maybe." You sigh out enjoying this. "Can I stay on your couch tonight?"

You can't hear the way his hearts jump or the restrained excitement in his voice, "Oh why?"

"It will be far too late and I'm not fighting a sea of second shift people leaving to get back to my quarters if you're also getting me dinner too."

"Of course I'll be a happy host you."

You wonder if this is what a noble who gets his undivided attention feels like as it feels weirdly intimate as food seems to arrive without you knowing... you had heard that he had wined and dined mortals before a bit before your time but... you move your stuff out of the way. But the food... the food was far too rich for you... far too good for your station... and yet you felt comfortable with how Horus ate like a commoner still. Oh he loved to relax as you had found him laying around with his men like a bunch of teenagers trying to expend as little energy but still get food into their mouths.

You don't know what happened... one moment you two were watching some horror and sharing food from your plates. How your lips bush against his fingers as he offered you to eat something as your eyes are focused on the predictable plot, "No bitch don't go in there." You say softly as you quickly burrow yourself into his side to hide from the killer that would show up.

"She's so fucked." Horus whispered but he was focused on you as you were hiding.

You hide your face in his side as the actress gets mauled on screen by the killer and he could feel your heartrate spike and he just soon pull you into his lap as you were watching through your fingers, "By the stars this is terrifying."

"I think the director is Nostroman." Horus said casually putting another piece of food to your lips and relishing the way your mouth moved against his fingers.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight." You whined.

"You can stay with me." Horus says softly as you just mindlessly nod. The movie ends predictably... meaning that the killer might come back... and you lean against his chest just trying to dispel your fearful thoughts. "Did you really get scared?" He asks with some concern and you laugh and nod a bit.

"Its been awhile since I had a scare like that."

You feel his index finger curl under your chin as his thumb rests just below your bottom lip, "Good thing you have me to protect you tonight." Horus says in a husky voice that causes your breathing to hitch for a moment.

"My L-"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand groping the fullness of your ass as he carries you to the bedroom. Your clothes being removed piece by piece and you're in your underclothes by the time his foot closes his bedroom door. "You smell so good my little-" He cuts himself off as he kisses you hard. "Let me touch you darling... let me love you." He breathes against your skin and you moan.

"Horus... Horus..." You say spreading your legs wide as he pulls your underclothes away and his finger coaxes its way into the slick opening of your sex.

The restrained Primarch felt himself start to unravel seeing you writhe under him to his ministrations. So use to your presence he had become that the thought of you not spending the night any longer was driving him mad. You'd left your mark on this place, pictframes holding picts you had taken of Horus and his Mournival all the ones you had taken all of them being in such humanizing moments, a blanket you had sewn drapes across the back of one of the couches, your scent lingers in the couch cushions... it lingered in the air... it lingered how Horus needed.

"You'll be such a good mother." His gene enhanced voice dropped an octave as his desires were laid bare and he hummed approvingly as you clenched on his finger, your teeth pressing onto your bottom lip, as you covered your eyes with one arm whimpering as the lavished attention of your Primarch was an intense thing... and it did things to you. "You're taking my fingers so well my little wife... " He cooed into your ear, you wanted to ask what he meant by that but you also were pulled into the sexual fantasy so easily. His tongue tracing the shell of your ear, "Will you take my cock just as well?" He whispers to you and you whimper out a small orgasm as your walls clench around his fingers.

Horus pulled off his pants with such quickness you thought he had simply adjusted his position over you as he smears your fluids over his cock head. "Breathe." He orders and you obey as the sensation of his cock sinking into your sex causes you to exhale slowly and inhale sharply. Your small foot pushes against his chest during moments it becomes too much, his thumb making circles on your hipbones... Horus wondering how much more pronounced they would look on you after you had a baby.

Horus was utterly fascinated by the human body... and the way it shifts and will change to accommodate growing a life inside of it. Of course, your body would never be the same after having one... or two... or three... but the thought of you carrying something of his own making was utterly erotic for him. He sinks in more when you let him losing your breath as he bottoms out and you uncover your eyes just looking between your legs with wide eyes, "Oh by the stars." Your shocked voice shakes out as you weren't expecting to fit him, far to scared to see how big he was.

Horus chuckled softly, "Of course you would take my cock so well..." He looks down at you with such a sin ladened look that it causes you to be utterly flustered, "I seem to just..." He clicks his tongue thinking for a moment, "Have a good eye for people."

Your breath leaves you as he churns his hips and all you can manage out besides pleasured noises is his name. All the while the Primarch is whispering such lurid things in your ear; you honestly didn't realize that you might have a breeding kink as well given how he tells you what he wants to do to you in erotic detail. How he will just find a day to utterly fuck you silly and so full of his cum you'll look pregnant. How greedy he will be to suckle and lick your breasts when they start to weep... how this man can make it all sound so erotic... it makes you buck your hips back into his begging for him to give you what he is promising. Though in the back of your mind it dances how he calls you his, you are one of his menials yes, but the other how he keeps calling you wife....

You'll ask later as right now you're utterly lost to the way he fucks you from here to Terra only finally stopping when you're close to passing out to which he cums inside of you.... not that you're fully there as he kisses your throat... "Yes rest now my pretty little wife... everything... will be... care of."

You pass out not long after that the horror movie monster long forgotten as you sleep in such a lavished bed... waking up with your head on his chest listening to the twin beats of his hearts. You wipe away the drool from the side of your mouth, "Hey pretty girl." He says with a wink as his eyes darted from his datapad for a moment before looking back.

"The shift master is going to kill me." You grouse as you know you overslept.

"No he's not." Horus says amused.

"Well I guess not since I'm here to start my shift." You say with an amused snort. To which Horus copies.

"Really?"

"Can't be late to work if I never left it."

He lets out the most pleasing laugh, "Can you feel your legs?"

"Barely. So..."

"So?" He looks at you smiling.

"That breeding kink huh? You uhhh said some stuff."

"I certainly did say some things." Horus says with a smile as his hands move over your body grabbing the fattier parts with a possessive squeeze. "And I meant what I said."

You swallow as you were just a menial... not any of the pretty noble ladies that you saw in articles being friendly with the gregarious Primarch. You are soon on your back finally seeing the, once more, hard cock for only a moment before he kisses you but you were always a brave one... or perhaps stupid as you speak, "So... you want to start... something with me?"

"Did I lay it on too thick last night?" Horus says with a smile fully knowing what he said.

"Something like that my-" His hand squeezes your cheeks gently.

"None of that. No more hiding behind formality. Its a very easy way to tell you're trying to deflect. Try that again." He says as if he was gently correcting a child.

"I guess it was something like that... almost as if you wanted me for something more than a quick fuck." You force the unsaid words out.

"I do enjoy commitments. They make things more erotic for me."

You hesitate to ask about the wife comments but spin it in a way that might be able to possibly slow down the breed happy Primarch, "I... I suppose I can... um is this a way to ask me to court?"

Horus looked at you for a moment with a blank expression before it turns into his normal confident smile, "Something like that."

#horus lupercal #canon compliant breeding kink #tw: breeding kink #tw: smut #no beta we die like horus #omg momrad writing something that isn't dubcon or noncon #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #primarch #can you tell I listened to Vox in the Void recently #I also might have made Horus a soft yandere #I cut out a bit of the yandere bits but I think he still reads as a soft/slight yandere

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not. 

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home. 

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles. 

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown. 

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you. 

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it. 

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps. 

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either. 

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would. 

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate. 

For him. 

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop. 

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked. 

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well. 

No news from Javi Peña. 

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again. 

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom. 

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party. 

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty. 

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone. 

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders. 

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk. 

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed. 

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work. 

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal. 

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book! 

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache. 

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled. 

“The hell are you doing here?” 

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”. 

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer. 

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.” 

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender. 

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him,  your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him. 

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer. 

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own. 

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside. 

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered  a soft “M’ sorry”. 

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand. 

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders. 

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch. 

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already. 

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall. 

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time. 

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his. 

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipping inside you. 

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it. 

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much,  groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell. 

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please��” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly. 

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.” 

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him. 

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?” 

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in. 

“My good little slut” 

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck.  “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you. 

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning. 

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length. 

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him. 

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you. 

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours. 

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls. 

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust. 

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He releases it as your walls clench around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock. 

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast. 

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he  pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin. 

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything.  “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”. 

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin. 

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin. 

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst. 

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips. 

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.” 

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’” 

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly. 

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his. 

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high. 

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue. 

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk. 

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment. 

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps. 

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw. 

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek. 

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him. 

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door. 

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands.  You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you. 

Perhaps nothing really did. 

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl. 

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

#javier peña x reader #javier pena narcos #javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #narcos smut #pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena imagine #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #narcos fanfic #narcos fic #narcos fan fiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #javier pena angst #javier pena one shot

[vampirejuno]

Every new transmisogyny scandal on this website makes me think of a friend of my mother's and her sister. The sister came out as trans sometime in the 80s and was promptly disowned by her whole family, save my mother's friend. I know very little of her story, but I do know that as a result of some side-effects of a botched gender affirming surgery, she was paralyzed and had to spend the rest of her life in care homes and hospitals. Decades. Of all her family - four siblings, in-laws, god knows how many cousins and nieces and nephews - only my mother's friend ever visited her and took care of her.

She was often ill, she couldn't walk, she lived in homes that severely limited her freedom to do anything at all. Despite all this, she loved life, she found joy in every day. I've never met her, I only know a little about her life from what my mother's friend would tell us - half the time referring to her as "my sisterbrother" or by her deadname.

Her name was Linda. She died June first of this year. Only her two sisters came to see her, knowing she was dying. She's to be cremated, so at least there won't be a tombstone to carve the wrong name on.

It makes me so angry to think that so many trans women have similar stories, worse stories. That half the time they can't even talk about it without their blogs getting wiped off the face of the earth. That when I went to tag this post, "transandrophobia" was a suggested tag, but "transmisogyny" I had to type out manually.

Aren't you fucking angry? Can't we do better than that?

#transmisogyny #transphobia #pride month #if you can call it that #ok to rb

[amethystwrytes]

Imaginary Games

▪️Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem. Reader

▫️Genre: Romantic, Smut, Exes to Lovers, Smidge of Hurt

▪️Warnings: 18+ Explicit language, sexual content (vanilla), pining idiots, past infidelity.

▫️Summary: The only thing that could make a destination wedding - in which you're the maid of honor, who has to give a speech in front of a crowd, who has to wear a dress that cost you a pretty penny that you'll never wear again - worse is the fact that your cheating ex is the best man.

▪️WC: 8k and some change

▫️AN: Repost from previous blog. Honestly I just really liked this fic. It wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea and I get that. Cheating is one of those things that we all have very strong opinions on, naturally, and that’s totally valid. For me, I just really enjoyed writing this and I liked how it turned out. The whole bit about Taehyungs ruined cashmere alone was enough for this to make the reposting cut 😂🧶

“He isn’t here yet, he won’t be here until dinner tonight so you can relax,” Fi, your best friend and blushing bride-to-be tries to comfort you as she shifts around on her beach chair. 

She’s talking about Taehyung, of course, you don’t need to ask. He’s your ex, that you haven’t laid eyes on in two years. Not since the night that he admitted to cheating on you with a co-worker. You’d felt so incredibly stupid. You’d been casually babbling about meal planning of all the mundane things (it’s more cost effective and healthy blah blah!), and he started crying and spilled the whole story out of guilt. You’d been too stunned to argue, or fight, so you did what you always do when someone hurts you: You said nothing, or at least nothing of value, and you walked away. He’d tried to run after you, begged you to just talk to him, tried to wipe the tears that fell from your face in a devastated shower, but you wouldn’t let him. You slapped his arm away so hard your fingers had tingled for an hour, and you told him never to speak to you or touch you again. 

A typical person might fight, scream, or try to have a discussion. A typical person would ask questions between bouts of screaming like “Do you love her?” “Did it mean anything?” “Do you still want me?” - the kind of questions that are natural when you’ve been fucked over like that. You definitely dwelled on those questions a lot, but you were too stubborn to ever ask them, because that would mean you’d have to speak to him, and you’d made it clear you were done speaking. If you spoke to him that might give him the impression that you were willing to listen to his side of things, and that might lead to him thinking you could forgive him. Can’t have that. 

You’re not a forgiving person, not when the offense is that deep and it was. You loved Kim Taehyung with your whole heart. You planned on doing ‘old and gray’ with him. You built future plans together, he was your best friend, he was your safe place and you were all those things for him as well. It was right, he was Mr. Right. 

You find it so unusual and infuriating that even after two years, you feel that pain like it was freshly served every time you think of him.

“I’m relaxed,” you tell her with a stiff shrug, “and this weekend is about you and Joon, not me, so I don’t care when he’s coming.” 

 In the two years you’d been broken up with Tae, you had found it quite challenging to keep up your friendship with Fi, considering her significant other - and now fiance - was Taehyungs older brother. In fact, they met because you and Tae had set them up on a blind double date. You managed, however, to avoid him at all costs. Until now, because who else would Namjoon choose to be his Best Man other than his brother? 

“Yeah you really look it,” Fi snorts, “you’re sitting beside the ocean underneath a warm sun and you look so uptight that I’m scared you’re going to start shitting diamonds.” 

“Well maybe I’ll shit a necklace, it can be your ‘something new’,” you tease and she laughs, maybe you’ve dodged the wrath of her observational skills. 

You try to go back to your book, you’ve made it all the way to page two, but just like every other time this morning you’ve attempted to read - the words start to blur together when your mind begins to think of the inevitable: He will be here. You will have to interact. You’ll have to play nice. 

“You know, Joon says he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you two split,” she offers casually as she flips onto her stomach. 

“Fi…” her name comes out as a warning. 

“Sue me, I’m just saying that it’s worth noting the man has been punishing himself the entire time you’ve-,” 

“Where’s your phone? I need to check the time,” you say quickly, digging in her tote until you feel the shape of the device that you don’t need whatsoever. You’ve got nowhere to be until dinner this evening. 

“You can change the subject all you want, but tonight at dinner you’ll have to face the problem you’ve been running from all this time head on,” she reminds you, painfully. 

“I’ve not been running Fi. I walked away, with the entire thing blowing up behind me and didn’t look back. There’s a difference,” you point out. 

“Fine. Avoiding is the better verb then. Semantics,” she eyes you from under the brim of her hat, “you never gave him the chance to explain what happened.” 

You scoff, “Unless his dick leapt off his body and kamikazed into her vagina I don’t really need to know what happened. Do you know what happened?” you ask out of curiosity, though you immediately regret the words, it gives the impression that you give a shit. 

“No, I don’t. I promised you I wouldn’t discuss you with him and I haven’t - though he’s tried many, many times - but I do think it’s a conversation you should have with him ___,” she props herself up on her arms, “People move on from affairs all the time, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The point is that they decide what’s best based on all the information, not just the pain it caused.” 

She’s making you angry. You bite down hard on your lower lip to ground yourself. You don’t want to yell or fight with her, not this weekend when it’s her big moment. Her wedding. 

“Hey, I’m starting to feel the sun,” you say, and it’s not a total lie, “I think I’m going to go in and cool off, get some water and lunch. Do you want anything?” you ask. 

You look up towards the hotel and see that Namjoon is on his way down with a towel draped over his shoulder. 

“Ah, nevermind,” you pat her on the back, “a buff Sea God approaches. He’ll take care of you.” 

You gather up your own things and start walking up the beach access where you cross paths with him. 

“Joon,” you greet him with a little nod. 

“Hey. So, how many mimosas has my bride had this morning?” he chuckles. 

“Four,” you answer, “but those last two had like the vapor of OJ in them, so I think it’s probably time for a dunk,” you wink. 

You don’t quite make it into the hotel before you hear Fi’s shrill scream and you smile as you watch Joon pluck her off the chair, toss her over his shoulder and head to the water. They splash and play and you can’t help but enjoy it - but then pain encroaches on the moment and your smile fades as it so often does, and you disappear into the hotel before anyone can see how bitter you are. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon and Fi had wanted you all to carpool to the restaurant together, but you’d insisted on driving yourself for a few reasons. 

For one, it gave you an immediate means of escape, should the sight of Kim Taehyung drive you to projectile vomiting. Also, it gave you some time alone to talk yourself up, to psych yourself into thinking you could navigate this evening without succumbing to any emotions. You’d done such a good job, for two long years, of not letting him know what he did to you. Not letting him see how he devastated your life. Most importantly though, not letting him in. 

“The Kim-Park wedding party?” you tell the hostess as you walk into the lobby. It must be freezing in here, the way your arms and legs erupt in chills. 

“Sure,” she smiles brightly and points across the dining area, “out on the patio, just through those glass doors.” 

“Thanks.” 

No less than sixty seconds ago, getting out of your car, you’d felt confident. However, as you close in on the patio doors you realize that despite knowing this moment was coming, despite going over it in your head every night for the past few months - you have no idea what to say to him. You’d not practiced the conversation even once in your head, which is unprecedented for you. 

You pull your hand off the door like it burned you and slip to the side before anyone from the party can see you through the glass. You press your back up against the cold wall and take a deep breath. 

“I think we’re both doing the same thing.” 

His voice, so deep and familiar, daggers you. You look over and sure enough, on the other side of the doors he stands there, tall and lean, pressed up against the wall with his fists shoved into his pockets. 

He crosses over to you, and you take an instinctual step back, he notices but doesn’t remark on it. 

“I’m hiding from you and you’re hiding from me,” he continues. 

At some point, you’ll have to speak. Eventually he’s going to think you’ve either lost your voice or worse, that his presence has rendered you speechless and you refuse to let that happen. 

“Why would I hide from you?” you ask, correcting your posture and steeling your nerves. 

“Because you don’t know what to say, and you hate not knowing what to say,” he answers and your blood boils at the fact that he’s right. You hate that he knows you, inside and out, knows your personality, your faults, your strengths, your comforts. He knows what you look like naked, what you love in bed and how to - STOP. There is absolutely no way you’re letting your mind go there. 

“Why would you be hiding from me?” you ask instead of admitting he was spot on with you. 

“Because I was afraid at how much it would hurt to see you,” he says, “turns out it was worse than I’d thought.” 

He looks at you then, really looks, from your face all the way down to your heels. 

“You look so pretty,” he whispers with the saddest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a human being. You think you also see the glint of tears dusting his lids. 

“Thanks,” you say in a cold, disinterested cadence, “We should get in there before they start wondering where we are.”

“Listen, __, I’d really like to sit down and talk to you this weekend,” he stops you by placing his palm gently on your shoulder. It may as well have shocked you, the way you stiffen up and shimmy away from it. 

“Taehyung,” you say sternly, “We’re here this weekend because your brother and my best friend are getting married. It’s their weekend, and you and I are responsible for making sure everything is memorable and good. That is the beginning and end of my obligations. So I really couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you want.” 

Then you push through the doors without giving him a chance to reply. 

You hate yourself. You didn’t have to be that cruel, not after two years of giving him the silent treatment. The look on his face tells you that you may have taken it too far. 

However, by the time you’ve sat down you’ve already switched gears. You angrily set your clutch on the table. The look on his face? On his face? It’s nothing compared to the look that was on yours. The look you wore for months in the wake of what he’d done. So he can look however the fuck he wants. To Hell with him. 

A waiter brings you a glass of champagne and you fight the urge to chug it down and ask for another. That won’t do any good though. The last thing Fi and Namjoon need is for you to get hammered at their party and ruin it. Besides, champagne hangovers are the worst. It’s not worth upsetting Fi. 

When you look up to see Fi storming towards you, you think that ship may have already sailed. 

“What?” you ask like a child about to get yelled at. 

“What did you do to him?” she hisses, taking the seat next to you. You don’t dare ask who she means, else she might smack you out of your chair. 

“Nothing?” 

“That’s weird,” she scrunches her face, “because Joon is in the mens room convincing Taehyung not to leave! He’s crying ___.” 

“Oh for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. 

Her hand squeezes your arm, more violent than comforting, “Go fix this. For two years I have been on Team ___ one hundred percent. I have cried with you, screamed with you, drank with you, wallowed with you and hated on him with you. It’s my turn. Please go be on my team.” 

Her words hurt, and you suddenly feel like a villain. 

“Okay, okay,” you stand and finish off your champagne, “I’m going right now.” 

When you swing open the mens room door you catch sight of Taehyungs disheveled face in the reflection of the mirror. You have to look away because he’s so devastatingly handsome, but also because it turns your stomach in knots to see him hurt, even after everything that happened. 

“I’ll just,” Namjoon mumbles, side stepping you towards the door, “yeah.” 

You both stand there silent for a long time, the only noise in the space are his sniffles, which echo against the metal stalls. Eventually someone is going to come in so you need to move it along. 

“I won’t apologize to you,” you begin with, because you feel like it’s important to outline that boundary. You owe him nothing, least of all an apology. “There are no words that I could use against you that will hurt you more than you hurt me.” 

“I’m sorry,” his apology comes out in a hoarse rasp that grates on your deepest heartstrings. “___, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to know that by now. I’ve not dated another person, I’ve not even fucking touched anyone since you walked out of my apartment - two years!” 

You don’t believe for a second that he’s been touch starved for two entire years, and you add that on to his pile of lies. 

“I love you, still, I’ve loved you every second,” he blurts it all out in a rush, and you expect he assumes you’re going to walk out or slap his mouth shut any second. The words still effect you, the notion that he still loves, after all that’s happened, and you feel your throat tighten with the threat of tears. 

“Don’t,” you hold up your hand, “Just don’t. We need to get it together. Namjoon and Fi expect us to be there for them this weekend and that’s what we need to do. So we’re going to walk back in there together like we’re best fucking friends, go on, do what you need to do,” you wave toward the sink. 

He sighs, resigning to you, and turns away. 

When he’s splashed his face and dried off the two of you end up where you started at the patio doors. He offers you his arm. 

“Pretending to be friendly doesn’t require you touching me Taehyung,” you point out. 

“Can I at least open the door for you?” he asks, pushing the door ajar before you can answer. The palm of his hand ends up resting against the small of your back. You stiffen and shoot him a look. 

“Sorry,” he pulls it away rapidly, “old habits.” 

“Break them,” you seethe, then transition back into the party, trying to look pleasant. 

Your back tingles in the wake of his touch, or maybe tingle isn’t the right word, but you feel it. Like a phantom pain. You hate that it felt good, natural, and like a comfort. 

You try not to think about it. You try not to think about how different this weekend would be had he not ruined everything. You try not to think about how happy and fun it would be to celebrate Namjoon and Fi together, as a couple. Would he have proposed by now? Would he have done it this weekend? After Fi and Joon ride off into the sunset together, would he have taken your hand and walked you down the beach and given you a ring? 

You push it down, pretending that you’re not hurting. You smile through a dance with Taehyung and Joons father, and brush it off when he mentions how disappointed he was how things ended between you and his youngest son. You smile through a photo of the wedding party, which just consists of you, Tae, and the bride and groom - thankfully you stand on the opposite end of Taehyung. 

You wait until you get back in your hotel room to fall apart. 

~~~~~~~

“No rest for the wicked?” 

Namjoons voice startles you. You’ve been sitting in an outdoor area of the hotel that overlooks the ocean. 

“I don’t get to come to the beach often, just soaking it in,” you tell him and look out over the seemingly infinite darkness of the water against the night sky. 

He hands you a beer and sits down in the seat next to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“Thank you,” he says, “for talking to Tae so he wasn’t a sniveling mess all night.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply honestly, “I have no interest in talking, but I did tell him we needed to keep it together for you and Fi.” 

Namjoon nods and sips his beer. 

“You’re still angry with him?” the question sounds more like a statement, but either way it irks the shit out of you. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” you snap a little. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Maybe. I’d think I’d at least want some closure though. So I could move on with life without being so angry all the time.” 

“I’m not angry all the time,” you argue. 

“Aren’t you?” again, it sounds more like a statement. 

“You know, since it’s such a monumental event I’ve been trying really hard not to knock your heads together, but if you and Fi don’t stop dredging up my relationship with your brother I make no promises,” you half joke, half warn. 

Namjoon laughs a little, but his smile fades after a few moments. 

“Maybe we just see something you don’t.” 

“Yeah? What do you see?” you challenge. 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to be brutally honest?” he asks permission. 

“Sure,” you lie and take a difficult swig of beer. 

“I see my little brother, who made a mistake. A terrible, awful, stupid mistake - but a mistake no less,” he begins but you cut him off already. 

“Namjoon, a mistake is filing your taxes wrong. A mistake is forgetting to pull the roast out of the oven. A mistake is something you didn’t mean to do. Fucking someone else is a very long string of choices in which multiple opportunities to stop occur and the person chooses to continue anyway,” you explain. 

“Okay, fair enough,” he sighs, “I see my little brother who made a very awful and stupid choice. I’ve watched him rot in it for the last two years. I’ve watched him punish himself to torture. He won’t let himself enjoy anything, he won’t let himself be happy. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh. I’ve never seen him in such a dark place.” 

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” you mutter darkly, taking a long sip. 

Namjoon tenses, but he doesn’t scold you. 

“Then I see you,” he points the tip of his bottle towards you, “who’s writhed in your own misery for two years. You never even had a conversation with him, you just stamped a period down before the sentence was even over. You love him,” he holds his finger up to shush you when you start to deny this, “Don’t deny it. Just shut up and listen. You love him, because if you didn’t it wouldn’t still effect you so much. He loves you too, by the way. I’m not saying you need to get back together with him, I know it seems like that’s where I’m going with this but I’m not. What I mean is that you need to talk, and I’m sure it will be a very uncomfortable conversation, but you both need that closure. This misery has to end.” 

“He cheated on me Joon,” you say pathetically, chin wobbling. 

“I know, I know he did and it was so disappointing to all of us. We were all pissed at him, but I also know how uncharacteristic it was. He’s never done anything like that before, and I doubt he’d ever do it again. You’ve got to stop acting that even entertaining the idea of forgiving him or even speaking to him would make you lose this imaginary game that no one is playing,” he says. 

An imaginary game that no one is playing. 

The words play over and over in your head long after you finish your conversation with Namjoon. They plague you all night, and most of the next day. 

Are you playing a game in your head? The more you allow yourself to think about it, the more you realize that you’re no different than you were that night. You haven’t changed or grown or moved forward in any direction in two years. You’re still the same wounded, humiliated, hurt woman who was sitting in his apartment while he told you he fucked someone else. Maybe you should have had a discussion - no maybe - you should have. Probably not that same evening, God knows you were in no condition to have a stable, adult conversation. 

In the aftermath though, that’s when people start to rebuild, and you did nothing of the sort. Not with Taehyung by any means, but not with yourself either. You’d chosen to stay miserable, chosen to hold that hate so strong in your heart that no one, not him or anyone, could penetrate it. You’d done it all because you thought it would punish him, but all you’ve truly done is punish yourself. 

~~~~~~~~

Rehearsing the ceremony, and going to the dinner that followed was non-negotiable as Maid of Honor. Obviously. This is the part you’d been dreading, because as Best Man, Taehyung was practically your escort for the duration of the wedding. 

So far you’ve managed to remain civil, if being completely silent is civility. Thankfully Taehyung has read the vibe and hasn’t tried starting up any type of conversation with you. Eventually the minister pulls Namjoon and Fi off and you and Taehyung are left completely alone. 

“Think we’re done?” he asks. 

You’ve rehearsed the ceremony no less than seven times, and aside from the bumpy first take, the rest went off without a hitch. The music is on point, you and Taehyung know your cues, Fi’s youngest cousin had a blast tossing her pretend flowers. Everything went according to plan. 

“Probably,” you offer him three syllables and no more. 

“Good. I’m starving,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees. He starts playing with the sand beneath him, and you watch him. Like this, with his attention elsewhere, you can observe. His hair is much longer, his frame a little thinner and you wonder if that’s got something to do with an emotional issue or if he’s been dieting or something. It bothers you, that he might not be eating properly, and you get angry with yourself. Then Namjoons words echo, “an imaginary game that no one is playing.” Being concerned about a man that you spent loving for so long won’t make you lose anything. 

“You’ve lost weight,” you tell him, attempting to keep any emotion from your voice. You pull your arms around you. 

“I guess,” he shrugs, looking at himself as if he’s never seen his own body. 

“You should eat more, you look thin,” you say, then before you can add anything else, you stand up and walk away toward the banquet room. That’s where the rehearsal dinner will be, and that’s where they can find you if they need you. You can feel Taehyung staring at you as you go. 

Everyone is so enamored with the bride and groom that you scrape by without being noticed much. You fill a plate that you poke with your fork, and smile when it’s appropriate. You look happy whenever Fi starts talking to you about anything, and you smile and participate in pictures. 

You’re sat next to Taehyung for most of the dinner, but thanks to the chaos of the event with so many conversations going and attention on Fi and Joon, you don’t have to interact with him much. 

“These noodles are fucking good,” he says as he slurps some into his mouth. 

“Here, take mine, I’m full,” you use the back of your hand to scoot the bowl over to his area. 

“Thank you,” he says politely, though you can feel his eyes boring into you as if to ask ‘why are you being nice to me?’ 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Wine sir?” a waiter asks Taehyung and gestures to his empty glass that’s remained as such the entire time you’ve been eating. 

“No, some more water would be nice though, thanks,” he says and the waiter nods and trots off. 

“It’s good, not too sweet,” you tell him, picking up your own glass and taking a sip. This is your attempt at a conversation, the sweetness of wine. 

“I don’t drink anymore,” he says in a way that makes you feel like you shouldn’t ask why. Something in your stomach twists and you think you can probably guess. 

He was probably drunk, when it happened, when he decided to bed somebody else. It puts a sour taste in your mouth as you swish the wine around. You force it down your throat and set the glass back down on the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin and standing up. 

“I’m going to go lay down, not feeling good,” you tell Fi, and you can see in the way that she looks at you she knows you’re lying. You don’t care. The rehearsal went fine. No one cried. No one yelled. You’re still on her fucking team, but dinners over, and you don’t have to do this anymore, at least until tomorrow afternoon. 

As you’re heading out you notice the table where they’re keeping the bottles of wine and champagne being served. With a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching you pluck a bottle off the table, they can consider it your fee for having to make a speech in front of a crowd tomorrow. Small price to pay for gushing about love and happily ever afters when you’d rather eat dirt. 

~~~~~~~~

The hotel pool closes at 10PM, and it’s well after midnight as you sit on the edge, skirt bunched up around your thighs, legs dangling in the water. 

Fi had come to check on you, and you’d continued the charade of a headache, explaining that you’d taken something and you’d see her in the morning to help her get ready for her big day. She was apprehensive, but left you alone. 

Too overwhelmed by the silence of your room, you decided to take your stolen booze and sit by the empty pool. The sound of the nearby ocean should be enough to drown out your thoughts. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You were still thinking about everything Namjoon had said. You were still thinking about what you wanted to say to Tae. And each time you took a sip of wine, you were thinking about him hovering over his coworker, the scent of alcohol on his breath, as he pushed into her and made her feel good the way he did with you. You felt like vomiting, but kept drinking anyway, call it self-flagellation. A punishment for being a bitter hag who can’t let anything go. 

When the pool gate creaks open, you turn, expecting to explain to a staff member that you were just about to leave. It’s not an employee though. It’s Taehyung. 

Your gut reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but you stop yourself. He seems to expect it, in the cautious way he approaches, he looks as if you’re about to send him away any second. Instead you turn back to the water, watching the reflection of hotel windows ripple on the waters surface as he rolls his pants up and sits next to you. 

“It’s warm,” he says after several moments, when it’s clear you’re not going to snap him in half. 

Silence. You sit next to one another for what feels like forever, though only about ten minutes probably pass. You take languid sips from the bottle occasionally, but you don’t look at him or offer any words. You’re just procrastinating, sitting stagnant as you’ve been doing for two years.

“Go ahead,” you finally say. 

“What?” he croaks, seemingly shocked that you’ve spoken at all.

“I want to know,” you take a big gulp from the bottle, “I want to know why you did it.” 

He takes a long time to answer and you wonder why. After two years, after all the five thousand word essays he tried to send you, shouldn’t he have all this outlined already? 

“The entire PR department was at that conference,” he starts. You remember. He’d gone to a week-long conference with the other people in his department, which you’d not really given much thought to, but that’s where it happened. While he was away. 

“The group had never been out together, in all the years we’d worked with each other, so on the last night we decided to go out drinking at some bar. It was all just good fun, until it wasn’t,” he says darkly and you waiver, but let him continue. 

“We got so drunk, God I was wasted,” he says with a shake of his head, “the kind of drunk where anything sounds like a good idea. Someone could suggest jumping off a bridge and you’d be like ‘fuck yeah, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard’ because you’re just so out of your mind. Eventually we all had to go back to the hotel we were staying at, but I honestly can’t remember if it was because one of us suggested it, or because the bar staff wanted us out, but somehow I ended up in an Uber with Lia.” 

Lia. You’d met her several times at his office Christmas parties, and you knew she was the one he’d fucked without ever having to say her name. You choke down the whimper that wants to escape and wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. 

“She randomly admitted to me that I was her work crush, but I could barely comprehend what she was saying. The car was spinning. I kept looking out the window, but then she’d start talking again. She was telling me that her marriage was ending and she was depressed. She felt alone and hopeless - it was all so heavy - and then she started touching my leg, and scooting closer-,”

“Okay stop, stop,” you suck in a ragged breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought maybe being transparent was best, but the whole truth - without the gory details - is that there was no reason ___. I was drunk. She was drunk. I think I felt bad for her, but I don’t remember feeling anything. I don’t remember what we said, I don’t remember how it felt,” he drags a hand down his face, “I threw it away for nothing. I ruined us, everything we built, everything I loved, everything I wanted for absolutely fucking nothing.” 

You look away from him and hide your face so you can sob quietly. He places his hand on top of yours, and you stiffen, but don’t pull it away. 

“Please say something,” he urges. 

“I don’t know how to feel,” you sniff, “I don’t know if I should feel better because it was nothing or feel worse because you threw me away for nothing.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats and you’re not sure how many times you’ve heard the words, a thousand - millions? Suddenly though, it doesn’t disgust you when he says he’s sorry.

“I hated you,” you say.

“I know,” he cries, “I deserve it.” 

“I hated you because it was your fault, you’re the one who ruined everything, you’re the one who should’ve suffered but instead I spent six months balled up in my apartment sobbing, screaming for you, screaming at you, I was a fucking mess Tae,” you sob. 

“I know, God I know that I hurt you so bad, and I know you may not want to hear it, and I know it was a different kind of pain but I swear to you I have been in agony for the past two years,” he sniffs. 

“I will never be the same,” you admit, to him and to yourself, “I will always feel like I’m not good enough, I will never be able to trust like I used to, and I will always wonder when someone is going to choose someone else over me and it’s all your fault!” 

“I’m so sorry ___,” he says. He scoots over close and starts to wrap his arm around you. God damn it you want him to. You want him to comfort you, you want to cry into his shoulder. You want it so bad. 

So you shove him into the pool, naturally. 

You watch him flail for a few seconds before he realizes the water is only waist deep, then he stands up, flinging his wet mop of hair from his face and sputtering water. 

“Are you kidding?” he squeaks, he looks like a drowned mouse. 

The look of utter shock on his face has you biting down hard on your lips trying to hold it together, but it comes out anyway. 

You laugh. You laugh so hard you can’t breathe, so hard that you snort, so hard that you feel like your chest is going to burst but you can’t stop. 

“Sorry, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts,” you tell him between gasps of air. 

“Intrusive…fuck,” he mutters, trying poorly to pull himself back onto the edge of the pool. You use your foot to shove him back in. 

“___!” he scream-laughs. 

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shrug, still giggling. 

“Yeah?” he gives you a look as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. 

“No…” you warn, but before you can even get the whole word out he drags you in by your arms. 

“Bastard!” you squeal, wiping the water from your eyes. 

“Sorry, I gave into my intrusive thoughts,” he parrots and then splashes you for good measure. 

You shove him backward and he disappears under the waters surface, until you feel him grab you by the ankles. He pulls hard and you lose your footing, joining him under the water. You fight the sting of chlorine as you open your eyes, finding your target, and you reach out and pinch one of his nipples beneath his ruined sweater before pushing off the bottom to get air. 

“Oh that does it!” he jeers, dramatically rubbing his chest and leaping over to where you try to scramble out of the pool. He grabs you by the waist and drags you back down, pinning your arms with one of his and using his other hand to tickle you. 

“Stop! Please stop!” you plead between fits of laughter. 

You manage to loosen his grip and twist yourself until your chest is pressed against his. Suddenly playtime is over, and it’s just you looking up at him, his arms still around you, unrelenting. 

“What are we doing right now?” he whispers, pushing a wet piece of your hair off your cheek. 

“I think I’m forgiving you,” you say, and you rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you tighter. It feels so good that you continue to stand there, despite the absurdity of standing in a pool fully clothed. 

“This pool is closed, and those clothes are not appropriate swim attire to be wearing in the facilities,” a stern voice intrudes and you both spin around to see a very annoyed looking employee drumming her fingers on the top of the fence. 

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping towards the pool stairs. 

“We were just going, we’re very sorry,” Taehyung echoes as he follows suit. 

“Yes, well, the pool rules are posted right here,” she taps a sign hanging on the fence aggressively, “for future reference. Have a good evening,” she grumbles, though she looks like she hopes the two of you have anything but. 

Taehyung grabs a few towels off a nearby caddy and you pour out the wine, then toss the bottle into a waste basket. 

Only a few people stare as the two of you walk towards the elevators, clothes drenched, but then again, there’s only a few people around at this hour anyway. You both grin like cheshire cats as the doors shut in front of you. 

Without giving it much thought, you reach over and lace your fingers into his, and when the elevator opens on the floor that’s been rented for the wedding, you lead him out and down the hallway to your room. 

“Wait,” he stops short, though he doesn’t let go of your hand as you slide the card into the door lock. 

“What?” 

“Are you sure you want me in there? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and have you regret all of this,” he says, holding your hand to his chest. 

“I’m not going to, at least that’s not my plan,” you assure him as you cross the threshold - though if you’re being completely honest, you have no plan. You have no idea what you’re doing, or if it’s a good idea or a bad idea. 

“Then… what?” he wonders, looking like if he breathes the wrong way or says one wrong word you’ll smite him. 

“Take your wet clothes off and just lay down with me,” you shrug. 

“You want me to get naked, then get in your bed?” to say he looks stunned is an understatement. 

“Yes, if it will make you less uncomfortable I’ll sleep naked too,” you tell him with a shrug, pulling your skirt off. 

His eyes darken just a bit, “Is this some kind of torture? You want me to press my body against yours and try not to touch you?” he laughs, but his mouth sounds dry as a desert. 

“It’s not meant to be a punishment, but yes, that’s what I want. I want to lay here with you, in a very vulnerable state, because I want to know what it feels like. I want to know if it makes my skin crawl or if it makes me want you to fuck me and hold me against you the rest of the night. I’m testing the water, so to speak,” you say. You continue peeling wet layers of clothes off until you’re completely nude, then you pull down the sheets and get in. 

Taehyung stands there for about three seconds before he starts fighting his wet clothes off. You watch the lean muscles of his stomach ripple as he tugs the, very expensive looking, ruined cashmere off, and you lock eyes with him as he pushes his jeans and boxers off in one go. 

He’s hard, which isn’t very surprising, not that you’re just so incredibly irresistible that he can’t help it, but you understand what he’s going through because you are too. You’re wet, you can feel the slickness with every movement of your lower body. It’s been two years. You weren’t completely chaste in that time, though it was never anything that lasted more than a weekend, and the number of encounters were very few. You also aren’t sure if he was being honest about his two year celibacy streak, you’re not ready to accept that or not, but if it is true he’ll probably combust. You only take a tiny bit of inappropriate satisfaction from that. 

When he crawls in as well the two of you just lay on your backs, a whole other person could fit in the space between you, and you stay like that for a little while. 

“Skin crawling yet?” he asks timidly. 

“Not yet,” you sigh, and turn the lamp off, then roll over next to him, draping your bare thighs across his. You’re a little embarrassed that your slick slides against his leg. 

“Jesus christ,” he groans in a whisper as your hand slides up to find purchase on his chest, his arm coming around to pull you in close. 

“What about now?” he asks in a strain. 

“Nope. Not yet.” 

You’re being honest. It doesn’t make you sick, or angry, and it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve lost. There is no imaginary game. No imaginary score. Not anymore, and you breathe the first easy breath you’ve taken in two years. 

You take his hand that rests on top of yours and pull it down your torso, his fingertips brush over one of your nipples and your lips part against his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you continue pulling his hand lower and lower until his fingers rest above your cunt. 

“What do you want?” he asks, twisting over so you’re more under him than beside him. His fingers play idly in your soft tuft of hair, but he doesn’t try dipping them any lower. 

You take a deep breath, your pussy aching, “I think you owe me one, wouldn’t you say?” 

He nods, licking his lips, “I’d say I owe you a lot more than one, tell me, I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me,” he urges you, his lips ghosting the side of your face. 

“I want you to touch me, and then I want you to go down on me like your fucking life depends on it,” you take his mouth with yours, sliding your fingers into his still damp hair to anchor him. 

You both let out involuntary moans when his fingers come in contact with your slit. He drags the wetness up from your entrance to your clit, circling around in a way that has you pushing back, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He toys with you as you kiss him, tongues teasing, teeth bumping, but his fingers persist. Then he pushes one in, followed by another and you groan. 

“Tae,” your voice is soft and pleading, and he delivers, thrusting his fingers into you hard and deep, the way you love. The way he knows you love. He pauses every so often to work your clit, and each time you have to hold yourself back, have to control your body so you don’t cum so soon, so you can enjoy it longer. 

“Does it feel good?” his voice is deep and scratchy in your ear and you nod, eyes closed, hips moving in time with his fingers, “Are you close?” 

You can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes, “Yes. So fucking close, fuck,” you curse as his fingers go back to your clit, this might be it, but he slows down. 

“Do you want me to finish you like this, or do you want me to eat you out? Because I really, really want to eat you out,” he smiles, taking your ear between his teeth gently. 

“Tongue,” you manage, “Definitely tongue but please keep using your fingers for the love of God.” 

“Absolutely,” he kisses you deeply once more before disappearing under the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” 

When his tongue drags up your slit, your back arches so far off the bed you’re pretty sure you’ll feel it tomorrow. Your mouth drops open as he fights your hips back down on the bed, tongue snaking and sliding over every centimeter of you. When you finally manage to settle down, he pushes his fingers back into you, lips wrapped around your sensitive bud in a gentle suck. 

Your eyes water at the sensation as you gasp and shake, then he switches to soft, wide licks and it finishes you. 

“Ohfuckohfuck,” your hands land on the sides of his head and you hold him in position as you cum, contracting rhythmically around his fingers, still buried inside you. 

When he resurfaces you immediately drag his wet mouth onto yours and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“More,” you tell him, reaching between your bodies to guide his cock to you. 

“I won’t last long enough for you to go again,” he warns. 

You shake your head, “I don’t care, just keep going, please,” you beg and it sounds so desperate but you don’t care anymore. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, and he pushes into your still throbbing cunt. “Oh fuck.” 

It feels like forever before he starts moving, thrusting in and pulling out agonizingly slow. You meet him with every push, grinding into him, connecting yourselves. 

“I can’t,” he whines, “I can’t hold it.” 

“Then don’t,” you tell him, dragging your nails down his back. 

“Shit,” he freezes on a particularly deep thrust and you feel him twitch, spilling himself inside. 

He collapses beside you, damp from sweat and breathless. He’s beautiful.

You scoot over and wrap yourself around him, like before, and he pulls you in, kissing the side of your head. 

“I missed you too,” you whisper, then close your eyes and let yourself rest against his chest. 

~~~~~~~~

You wake up to frantic knocking on your hotel door. 

“___! Hi, it’s me, Fi, I’m getting married today, in case you forgot - just mentioning it because you and I have an 8:30 appointment for massages and it is now,” a brief pause, “8:27 and I’ve not heard from you!” 

“Shit!” you scramble out of bed, grabbing the blanket as you go to wrap it around you.

“Ahh!” Taehyung whines, “Cold!” 

You open the door and greet her. 

“Oh my God,” she says, looking at your naked, disheveled state wrapped up in a hotel duvet. 

“Uhhhh…” 

“I’m cold!” Taehyung shouts from the darkness of the hotel room and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her reaction. 

“Oh my GOD,” she screams. 

“I’ll meet you at the spa, I swear, just…go…just…I’m so happy and this is your special day…but go,” you stumble over the words. 

“I…” she points to the hall, “I’ll go. Meet me down there,” she says then jerks you close, “and be prepared to tell me fucking everything.” 

You pad back into the room, flipping on the light switch. Taehyung sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“Hi.” 

You slide into your bra and grab a shirt, “Hi,” you say back. “You have to go.” 

“Do I have to go because you’ve got somewhere to be? Or do I have to go because I make you nauseous and you don’t want to look at me anymore?” 

You press your lips together trying not to laugh, “You have to go because my best friend and your brother are getting married today, and we both have places we need to be - with them. After everything is over, we can figure all this out,” you say pointing between the two of you. 

“Promise?” 

“I swear.” 

He nods, then gets up grabbing his discarded clothes from the night before. 

“This is still wet,” he frowns, showing you his sweater. 

“Sorry about your fancy sweater,” you laugh. 

You’re not entirely sure what to say or do, so you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. 

“I’ll see you later,” you tell him. 

He nods, “Later.” 

~~~~~~~~

When you check in at the spas front desk they send you to the waiting area, where Fi awaits you, looking very smug. 

“Don’t,” you tell her, taking the seat next to her. 

“Don’t what?” she says innocently, “Don’t bring up the fact that I just caught you red handed from spending the night with my brother-in-law?” 

“Technically he won’t be your brother-in-law until after 1 o’clock,” you point out. 

“Deflecting. Interesting. What does that mean I wonder?” she raises a brow. 

“Weren’t you and Namjoon both hounding me, telling me I needed to talk to him?” you ask. 

“Talk?” she snorts, “Boy, when you have a talk you sure go all out.” 

“We did talk!” you defend, “Before - we had a conversation at the pool.” 

“How did that go?” 

You think about it for a second and sigh, “Well, it definitely made me sad. It reminded me of everything I felt in those months after everything. I ugly cried clutching a bottle of wine,” you say with a half laugh. 

“I can tell, your eyes are grotesque - no offense - we’ll have to fix that for the photography later, but go on,” she compels. 

“So yeah, I cried, I told him how much I’d hated him and how miserable I’d been, he apologized for like the trillionth time and I don’t know, I felt different all of a sudden, I actually believed him. So I pushed him in the pool and ruined his cashmere,” you explain. 

“The cable knit Celine?” she gasps. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, walking over to the coffee bar, praying it’s strong. 

“Sorry,” she says, “but that shit is easily more than two G’s. But yes, we’re talking about you, sorry. What made it feel different? And why did you push a grown man in cashmere into a pool?” 

“Something Namjoon said, the first night Taehyung was here after the bathroom incident, he kind of put things in perspective for me,” you tell her. 

She smiles dreamily, “Yeah, he kind of has a way of doing that huh? What was it he said?” 

“Imaginary games,” you say. 

“I don’t follow?” 

“Would you say I’m a forgiving person? That I handle offenses well?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Fi says resolutely. 

“Agreed. I get in my head and keep score. If they hurt me, I have to hurt them worse and if I can’t, then I act like letting it go is losing, so I hang on to it and stay angry because in my sick little toxic mind, that means I’m still winning,” you sit back down and slurp the coffee. 

“Tired of winning now?” she says softly, taking your hand in hers with a squeeze. 

“Yes,” you sigh, lay your head on her shoulder, “I’m tired of winning now.” 

“Good.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Fi was stunning. No, more than that - she was traffic stopping, literally. In her custom wedding gown, guests and even strangers literally stopped in their tracks to stare at her. You cried all day at how beautiful and happy she looked. She glowed. You only looked away from her once really, to see Namjoons reaction when she cornered the aisle and came into view - worth it. 

At the reception Fi leans over to you, “I think someone has been itching to get you alone all day,” she whispers, nodding over to Taehyung who’s in the middle of a conversation with a cousin, but you see him side eyeing you every couple of seconds. 

“I’m your maid of honor Fi, it’s my job to be in your ass all day in case you need me,” you tell her, resisting the urge to run to him. 

“Okay. I appreciate that and everything, but I’m letting you go. Your job is complete, you married me off. Now go,” she nudges you out of your seat. 

You walk over to him as the cousin disappears back into the throng of people and he turns to you. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, and you nod as he takes your waist on the floor. 

You sway back and forth to some romantic jazzy number, resting your head on his shoulder, drinking in his scent and his warmth. You smile. 

“So what happens now?” he whispers, “What happens when we leave this paradise and have to go back to the dreary, gray city?” 

You look up at him, and he kisses you gently on the lips. 

“I think…” 

“Yes?” 

You tilt your head and smile, “I think we should start meal planning.” 

“Meal planning…” he looks perplexed, but then recognition reaches his eyes and his face softens. “Meal planning.” 

“Yes. It’s more cost effective, and it’ll be easier to eat healthy if we only buy what we plan for.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” he grins, then pulls your head back onto his shoulder and the two of you continue dancing, even when the music changes to a more upbeat song, you just sway back and forth, pressed together tightly to make up for the distance you held for too long.

#bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #Kim Taehyung #romance #oneshot #BTS smut #Taehyung smut #18+ only #V fanfiction #bangtan #taehyung x reader #Taehyung girlfriend

[writingwithfolklore]

Answering your Questions/Concerns about Free Editing

Thanks for sending in your questions about my free editing service! Here are some of the ones I've gotten so far:

I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you because it’s free:

              I don’t like the assumption that I’m a pushover. Okay just kidding, I appreciate this instinct, but you’re not really taking advantage of me given I’m offering the work! I also ask you to trust me that I can set my own boundaries and let you know if the scope of the project is too much for me to take on.

              Of course, if you’d really like to give back to me in some way I always accept tips, Instagram follows, or reblogs of my editing post/recommendations to your writing friends, but none are necessary!

Okay but what do you get out of it?

              Experience—I can put ‘freelance editor’ on my resume and back it up with examples. I can also log my hours as volunteer hours which will help me get scholarships to pay for my schooling. Lastly, I hope to build strong community bonds with you all and genuinely just want to help out—I’ve been very lucky to have formal training and mentors throughout my writing career, and I hope to provide that to those of you who haven’t had the same opportunities!

Will you look at fanfiction/non-original work?

              Of course! As long as it was written by you (and not AI-generated).

How do I know you and I will click style-wise?

              I work with writers of all different styles in my regular job, so editing styles that aren’t my own is something I have a lot of experience in. If you’re really worried about it, I will let you know right off the bat if I think I would be a good editor for you or if you should try someone else.

What if you hate my work?

              I won’t tell you, and I can still do my job as an editor to improve it without tearing it apart. I believe good editors can take any piece of writing and see its values and what it’s doing well in addition to its flaws. My job is to bring out what’s already working in your piece. Essentially, I promise I won’t be mean to you or your work no matter what I think about it.

Can you help me get published?

              I can certainly help guide you through starting the process, but I’m not an agent and can’t reach out to anyone for you. However, if you’d like to send me proposals or queries to look at, I’m happy to edit those as well!

Can you help promote my work/blog?

              I’m happy to reblog or share any of your projects or writing that I’ve helped you out with, for sure!

What if my work isn’t good enough?

              No judgement here! I’m happy to look at your first draft, your final draft, and every draft in between. The whole point of editing and getting another set of eyes on your work is to improve it, so send me anything, no matter what state it’s in!

Check out the guidelines here:

#writing #creative writing #writing community #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #free editing #free feedback #feedback #offering feedback #fanfiction #feedback needed

[scribz-ag24]

Hey buddy one question, from your perspective who would be a better match for Grovyle? Dusknoir or Celebi? (It's for a project about photosynthesis)

I think a quick look through the actaeonshipping tag versus rendshipping tag in my blog should tell you enough about who I prefer with Grovyel xDD

I am VERY biased since when I first played the game I greatly disliked Celebi's characterization (pink = girl = boy crazy tee hee uwu) and didn't even care much about it until I played Special Episode 5. Hell, I almost thought it was unfair how popular the shipping with Celebi was because of a crush and 4 stray dialogues and one good final scene while Dusknoir got totally ignored despite being the catalyst for the Grovyle speech that leaves everyone mindblown and remembering this game forever.

I got around to appreciating them as a polycule, especially since I feel they can soften out each other's rough edges. But as separate couples I have a hard time imagining them seriously ngl. I feel like Grovyle would care so little about any romance that Celebi wouldn't make a move and their relationship would stay stuck in the status quo we saw in the future, where Celebi has a half-denied crush on him and Grovyle focuses on other stuff. And Dusknoir and Grovyle would die again before talking about their feelings willingly, so they just work all day on missions and reconstruction of the future.

But if I had to choose between the two ships, I can't say anything other than Dusknoir. if only because the relationship between the two is actually interesting and changing and evolving. Grovyle cares deeply about Celebi, which is cute. Celebi's got a little crush on his ugly ass, very cute. Then that's it. They're very close friends, it's very sweet, a lovely tale of love in a doomed world, sure. but idk, you have to fill celebi's character with headcanons a lot more than Dusknoir's. She has a beautiful hug at the end but she doesn't have an entire episode worth of development, and I value the latter one more.

I'm not good at character analysis and personality types and stuff like that, but I feel like Grovyle's dynamic with Dusknoir has much more potential and has even been a bit underappreciated, not in small part because it's basically all inside the special episode of a game that sold less than half of his predecessors. Boy, I wouldn't blame anyone who has only played Explorers of Time and Darkness for forgetting about Dusknoir.

#ask #not gonna use fandom tags to not upset anyone #but yeah in my head first came duskvyle and only added celebi afterwards #but hey it worked #feminism wins

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with III

NSFW elements, fluffy ideas that have been ruminating in my head the past couple weeks… to the point I abandoned my main blog to create a side blog for my fav masked men

Easily having scary dog privileges w iii as your man w the slasher-esque aesthetic about him

But we all know that’s not the case

III the bf you lets you play with his rings on his hands when your anxious

Playing with his hair all. the. time! I’m talking twirling the ends, head scratchies, all of it! He hated how much it had an affect on him

He could be going on a tangent laying his head in your lap on the couch after a long day, and he’d instantly shut up melting into your touch once you started playing with his hair!

III the bf who’s love languages involved gift giving, and physical touch

would most likely buy you the most cheesiest, corniest, tourist of tourist souvenirs from each city he went to just to show you how much he thinks of you and misses you. Even if your apartment is overflowing with his little treasures and you had to invest in an a P.O. Box

Receiving ‘Daddy’s Little Meatball’ and ‘I love ___’ shirts all the time, snowglobes, and hats (you definitely got a cheesehead hat when they played in Wisconsin and a cowboy hat with feathers and a tiara when they were in Texas)

Sending you postcards with the most embarrassing, filthiest things written on them like the post men wouldn’t see it

Including but not limited to

‘Hi love, here Down Under thinking when I can I be down under you :( ”

“Visited one of the 7 wonders of the world today, you should be the 8th ;)”

“Can’t wait to show you my Big Ben again <3”

The most fashionable one of the members, every show you attend, he would try to coordinate your two outfits.

Including hairstyles… matching space buns or french braids?!? Are you kidding me?? Or even matching hair colors once in a while??

Speaking of hair, you would have to help him dye his hair, or shave his undercut late at night in the bathroom. Vice versa if you wanted the same color. Indulging on your favorite beverage or a little joint, giggling every time you would get a speck of dark/bright dye on each other. Or jokingly act like you buzzed too much hair to rile him up

He also solely has a folder on his phone dedicated to pictures (including a lot of candid off guards of just you two in your own little world backstage) taken by Adam and crew members of the two of you matching/coordinating

His phone background is of you sitting criss cross on a large equipment case looking down at him leaning against it trying to tune his bass, but his head is leaned back gazing up at you through his mask instead… both with space buns in your hair

Since your relationship couldn’t be public and be blaring obvious to most people you knew, III would get you two permanent bracelets. Yours would have a tiny ‘iii’ on it and his would have a tiny initial of your first name.

Even though he would have to profusely clean it after shows from the red body paint. It was something he was willing to do to carry this cheeky secret.

And somewhere in his favorites folder of his phone he has a picture of your tinier hand trying to wrap around his cock with the dainty chain hung displaying ‘iii’ clearly around your wrist

And ofc a pic of you two facing a mirror with his hand wrapped around your neck displaying your initial proudly on his

Which leads me into

He definitely has a size kink in all different types of aspects

Him loving the fact he was so significantly taller than you (lets face it he’s a a long fuckin string bean), and letting it be known

It always (not so) subtly came out

In his pet names for you: doll, bunny, kitten–anything small and cutesy really…even if they became so unserious or cringe

When he would just casually walk by you, and ruffling your hair calling you ‘squirt’, making you roll your eyes and scoff. (The other band members may have started to do this as well bc of III)

His adrenaline still rushing after a show, great rehearsal, or recording session barreling over to you to give you a bear hug, lifting you off the floor swinging you around profusely

you would be doing something or talking to someone, he’d catch you off guard by coming up behind you resting his chin on the top of your head, giving your shoulders a light squeeze or massage

Watching you struggle for something on a higher shelf, and waiting until you would almost give up in defeat to come up behind you making sure to press his body against the back of you as he did so to leave you flustered

Despite him being a giant, and perfect big spoon material–he wants to be lil spoon most times.

Loving your arms around his waist, feeling the soft heave of your chest pressed against his back as you slept, providing the comfort and peace he needed after a day in his busy life

He’d be in a drunken/high haze and when it would be just the two of you, he would compare his hand to yours always, smiling lazily over at you adoringly

Admire how his hand practically encapsulated the expanse of your throat when you were up against a wall or underneath him.

A small growl leaving his lips, when he tried to fit inside you loving how you squeeze him

“Fuck doll, are you gonna be able to take all of me?” He hisses, pushing your legs further apart

Or watching how’d you have to use two hands and barely fitting him into your palms when you gave him a hand job

“Baby you’re squeezing me so good.” He tries his best to not let his eyes roll to the back of his head, watching you struggle to jerk him

In conclusion, I need this man biblically.. and I got carried away and could have kept going if you guys want me to keep going I can 🤭🥹 I do plan on doing one for the others too. Reblogs, likes, and replies are always appreciated and fuels my validation

#sleep token x reader #iii sleep token #iii x reader #sleep token headcanons #iii sleep token x reader #iii sleep token headcanons #iii sleep token smut #iv sleep token x reader #ii sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #vessel sleep token x reader

[mrabubu]

Heya! Ignore this if this is rude, sorry to just dump my opinions in your ask box like this!

About the Leosagi thing, it has a bit of a history in the tmnt fandom, that’s why it’s so popular now with the rise one. I’m not as knowledgeable as some older fans, but the Usagi comic book series and tmnt have been intertwined for a pretty long time. Crossovers and things have been happening almost every iteration, aside from rise. Each crossover tended to focus heavily on the friendship between Usagi and Leo, leading to a big chunk of the fandom shipping them in a bunch of the iterations.

The Usagi chronicles is widely regarded as a middle of the road show. It’s not amazing but it’s great to see the Usagi comic books get a show of their own! (in a, weird, several generations down the line way) The fact that it was released around the same time as rise, and that rise never got to have a Usagi crossover like most of the iterations before it, lead fans into taking the crossover into their own hands. It was tradition at that point, and those leading the charge happened to be the same ones who shipped Leosagi before rise, in 2003 and the like.

Leo being gay or trans has been a popular headcannon for a long time, probably because of the extremely queer fandom. Either way Leo in rise being more flamboyant than any Leo before him reinforced this I suppose. As someone who doesn’t mind the Leosagi ship (and is queer themself), I don’t think just because a guy is flamboyant or confident they’re gay. That’s a pretty small minded take and assuming that a guy can’t be flamboyant in any way without being “outside the norm” is a tale as old as time. But knowing this you can still have fun with flamboyant gay characters. I think some people can find comfort in head-cannoning a character as a confident, charismatic gay man!

But, aside from all of this, everyone should be allowed to do whatever they want with characters forever. People should not feel offended if anyone portrays a character as straight or gay, canon is fandoms personal playground and it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. I think your Y/N stuff is awesome and you should keep doing whatever you find joy in, because that’s what fandom is about. Try not to get too offended at the Leosagi shippers, tmnt has had this tradition long before rise, and it’s just the fandoms history moving forward with the newest iterations. Let the gay people go wild, doesn’t matter who they ship who with, if people are having fun and making art together.

I hope you don’t have to receive any kind of hate for the ship you prefer, you aren’t morally obligated to like anything, and this is your blog, you choose what happens here.

YOU are NOT being rude, anon, don't worry xd

Just in case, yeah, I know about history between TMNT and Usagi, and I know they had crossovers many times.

Again, I have no problems with people who enjoy their headcanons by themselves and don't touch anyone with it. You don't touch me, I don't touch you, simple as that. I'm not a fan of both these headcanons, so I just either keep scrolling or filter/hide them. I don't try to make people stop enjoying something they like because I have no right to do so.

About Leo, there was already a comment that I agree with, and I hope they don't mind if I quote them here:

"There's a difference between being flamboyant and being gay. Being flamboyant does not make you or someone gay. This is a common stereotype that can be harmful to the LGBTQ+ community. Being flamboyant is a way some people express themselves and their identity and trust me, it does not determine their sexual orientation or gender identity."

I have a little personal history with thing that is different, but has the same core, because I'm half-blood. One of my parents was from another country, and because of that some of my actions and personality have been judged based on my ethnicity.

Again, you headcanon Leo as gay? Okay, just please, don't try to make people believe it's canon. Because I've seen cases like this, and there's a whole video where a person basically says that Leo is gay and if you don't agree, "heck, you're wrong! And the fact that you don't agree only proves that it's canon" and a bunch of other "proves" that mostly made out of thin air. Like, wth...? Who gave you right to say something like that? You're not the creator of the show. And because of people like this there are a bunch of those who actually believe this headcanon to be canon.

For me it turns into a problem when people are crossing the line and start shoving their headcanons into your face, trying to prove/make you believe that it's canon, and simply being rude if you don't agree or just say that you don't like it. If a person didn't do anything to you personally, who said you have the right to being rude to them or even harass them?

If this behavior crosses the line of my interests, why do they have the right to be offended by my disagreement, but I have to ignore them if it hurts me?

Not to mention how bad I feel for RIse creators who are still being constantly pressured by people with all this which is NOT okay and shouldn't be okay.

Just in case, all this isn't directed personally to you, anon. I'm sorry for so much text again xd

#abubu ask

[pocket-watcher]

You're little writing snippets are so great!! I'm scrolling your blog now FERAL omfg

If it's alright, and you're okay with it, would you be willing to write a short snippet about a girl resisting being ensnared and hypnotically seduced by a magic creature, maybe a beautiful fey or vampire?? But then falling into their eyes and ultimately under their spell??

No worries if not, I will devour anything and everything!!

Aaaaa hello!! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing! I’m sure I can whip something up for ya!

Rule #1, don’t step in a fae circle.

Shit.

It hadn’t been her fault. She simply slipped and fell. She knew the stories, and had always been so careful, and yet here she was cursing under her breath as she tried to leg it out of the woods.

Yeah. She barely made it 5 steps before something invisible snaked around her waist and pulled her right back into the broken ring of mushrooms.

“Oh, aren’t you something?” The ethereal voice rang out. She shut her eyes tight.

Nope. Not real. If she can’t see it then it’s not real.

“Oh, but I am real. I assure you.”

What the hell?! Could this thing read minds?!

“Yell all you want, human. It won’t get you out of this predicament any faster than having a polite conversation with me.” They hummed.

She squeezed her eyes tightly, turning her whole body as far away from them as she could. She fought to keep her mind blank and empty.

“Ah. A smart one.” She felt a slender finger lift her chin. Her scrunched face relaxed into the touch, but she didn’t dare to let her eyes open.

Blank and empty.

“Who are you?” She asked as strongly as she could.

“I’ll give you my name if you give me yours.” She felt them tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I would never.”

“Then I am no one.” The voice teleported around her. Impossibly. Echoing in her mind as she focused on the words in an attempt to keep her mind empty and blank, as not to give away her name.

“And,” their voice continued in soothing tones, “you are the one who knows better than to give her name and yet stood between the mushrooms in my forest…”

Despite her eyes being closed she felt their gaze travel down her body. They were studying her. Sizing her up.

“I fell.”

She stood her round.”

“No, my dear. Trust me. You haven’t fallen yet.”

Shivers went up her spine.

“What do you want with me?”

“That’s not the right question, but I’ll answer it.” The voice circled her. Coiling around her. She turned to follow it with her ears, eyes so tempted to open. Begging her mind to open them. Empty and blank. Don’t think about it don’t think about it.

They laughed at her thoughts.

“I want to take you away from here. I want to make you my toy. I want you to tell me your name. I want to steal you away from this world and take you to another.”

She felt their lips inches from hers. Her mind was empty.

“And blank.”

They had tricked her. Used her intelligence against her. She had stilled her own thoughts. She had focused on their words. She had fallen so easily under their spell.

Her body tingled. Her eyes willed to open.

“Open them.”

Brown eyes met dazzling silver. They were so clearly not of this world. She couldn’t help but stare. The world tipped around the two from her twirling to follow their voice.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t resist.

As soon as her name left her tongue it disappeared into the afternoon breeze. It echoed through the wood, but only for a moment. The two left together, and her name and memory scattered to time as if she had never existed in this world to begin with.

#I hope you enjoy!! #I really like this concept #any fae listening you can steal me away anytime #hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #watcher answers #mindfuck #watcher writes #watcher’s stories