#so now he's like the only new guy there i guess

[slutforfinnickodair]

HI BBG😻😻 I was wondering if you could write something for Sam Monroe like maybe he has a prince albert piercing?! I’m going feral rn. Okay love yaa

At the piercer

Pairing: Older!F!Reader x Sam Monroe

plot: Sam is in a little need of some money and after one of his friends bets him a lot of it in change for that piercing, he goes to visit one of his friends.

warnings: oral (male receiving), piercings, talk of smoking and use of drugs, age gap — sam is like 21 reader is more like 29, cheating

a/n: holy cow. WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS PLEASE MESSAGE ME😭🙏 By the way guys my inbox is open so please give me some requests😻

word count: 1.4k

—

“Yo, dude.” Josh nudged Sam by his shoulders. Sam gave him a look from the side before taking off his headphones that were blasting Metallica a moment ago.

“What do you want?” His hoarse voice made Josh want to laugh but he stood his ground.

“Want to bet five hundred bucks?” Josh said while leaning against the fence of their house.

Sam sighed before thinking of it. Five hundred bucks would be good for at least three pounds of weed. Maybe he could get some cigarettes along with it or even pills.

“What’s the deal?” Sam stood up from the grass, making Josh smirk before he turned his head to look at Thomas.

“He won’t do it man let it go.” Tommy shook his head while Josh kicked his leg making Thomas buckle his knees.

“You got a thing for that Y/N don’t you?” Josh asked while Sam narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Who was he to question if he liked her or not? She was already married for two years now so he had no chance over a man who looked like he was coming out from a Vogue magazine’s frontpage. Plus, he was way younger.

“Just say what you want, Jonathan.” Sam crossed his arms on his chest.

“How about you go to her salon and ask for a piercing?” Josh chuckled while looking down at his own groin.

The raven haired boy instantly shook his head.

“Come on Sam, it's gonna be fun. Don’t be such a pimp. Isn’t this what you want after all? Some weed and pills. You know five hundred dollars isn’t a small amount of money” Josh teased.

“I’m not doing it anyways.” Sam said. “Either if I get the money or not.”

“Are you shy? That she will see how small your dick actually is?” Thomas laughed while Josh kicked him again.

Sam tilted his head backwards. A piercing? Down there? Sure for five hundred it wasn’t really a big deal but he wasn’t even sure Y/N could do something like that.

“Fine, I'll do it.” Sam suddenly said while Josh smirked and patted Thomas on his back while turning around and walking back into their house.

—

Sam walked into your shop, hearing the bell echo through the building as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself.

“Oh, Hi Sam.” You said as you spotted him across the reception. He was wearing flared jeans with one of those metal rock bands on it that you casually knew the name of but didn’t listen to any of their songs.

“Hi.” He said while walking over to you.

“What brings you in today?” You asked while pulling out your notepad to add a new customer for today. You only had five today and it was already two in the afternoon so it was quite a slow day.

Now this was the part where Sam lost all of his confidence just looking at you all over again.

You had your hair pinned up so it didn’t fall into your sight. You were wearing a blouse with nothing underneath so he saw your nipple piercings poking through the fabric.

He felt his mouth watering up at the sight as you leant against the counter, writing his name in in your diary.

“Well..umm.” He started but then stopped again as you looked up at him. “I..”

You tilted your head smiling slightly as you saw a little red creeping up to his face.

“I’m guessing you want it somewhere private.” You said while he let out a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“Nipple piercings?” You guessed while looking up at him.

“No.”

You tried to think of anything that could weird out a twenty one year old boy, then the question suddenly left your mouth.

“A cockring?” You asked while Sam breathed out and nodded his head slowly.

“Okay.” You got up from behind the counter and walked towards the mattress where you did all of your job.

“Lay down.” You said while sitting down on the barstool next to him.

Sam laid down as you said and stared at the ceiling while you got some of the stuff that was needed. You put on some gloves, searching for a needle and the disinfectant with a cotton swab nearby.

“Are you nervous?” You asked to make a brief conversation.

“A little.” He admitted while readjusting his position.

“Don’t worry it will be fine.” You said while turning around. “Though you would need to pull your jeans and underwear down.” You said while waiting for him to do so.

“Oh right.” He murmured while quickly fidgeting with his belt.

Your thoughts suddenly drifted away. You’ve been doing piercings for Sam since he turned seventeen. Of course you thought he looked fine but he was way too young for you. You were already twenty five when you met.

Your husband wouldn’t give a shit if you just went and slept around, because he did the same. Not that you did care, you needed the money and that was it.

Sam was different, you only thought of him as a one night stand and even that was a huge mistake to think of. He probably had many women drooling around him; he didn't need one who was married.

“Okay so.” You started while looking at his pretty face. “You know I would like you to get a little bit aroused before we start this so the needle can easily pierce your skin.” You dared not to look down at his member. Sam paid attention to this as he stared right into your gorgeous eyes, waiting for you to finally touch him even if it meant his head would be swelling for a good two weeks.

“I’ll leave you alone to do this.” You said while getting up from the barstool that you were seated on. Sam wanted to call out for you but he rather closed his mouth and watched as you walked behind the counter again, looking up at the clock before diving your head into one of your notebooks where you rearranged some appointments that were off for today. You were basically just scribbling down whatever came to your mind.

By the time you walked back to where Sam was, you saw exactly how he was currently rubbing himself, trying to get ready. All you saw was that the poor boy tried to do his best but he was still limp. You pulled at your lips as a wicked thought ran up into your head.

Jacking him off wouldn’t be cheating would it be?

You didn’t care though, you walked over to him and sat back on the barstool. When he noticed you he quickly pulled away his hands, staring at you.

“Seems like you don’t have anyone to think about.” You said while he gulped down his spit. Gosh how could you be so hot and confident at the same time?

“Trust me, I do.” He murmured while looking down at your cleavage.

“Okay pretty boy well how about I help you out a little bit?” You suggested while pulling out something like lube from one of your drawers.

“You would?” He asked surprised.

Oh god, she’s going to stroke my dick.

“Well if I need to..” You pressed some of that lube on your fingertips looking down at him.

Sam kept looking at you, praying not to cum in a minute under your hands. You probably had no time for him anyways.

You looked him into the eyes once before taking his tip between your fingertips, rubbing the lube right on the skin.

This was the first time Sam held his moans back, trying to gain composure as you kept flicking the head with your hands. If you kept going like this you would be having to see him cumming all over your hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath as you went faster. You even forgot this wasn’t supposed to be a blowjob until the very moment you got thick ropes of white coming down your hands.

A soft gasp left your lips but even then you kept going. Sam twitched underneath your hand, groaning once you sped up again.

“You gonna cum again for me baby?” You purred while now your hand was caressing his entire length.

“Yes..” He gasped while you kept smirking.

Let’s just say Sam Monroe turned out to visit your salon more after that encounter. Plus, he always made sure your husband would see the leftover marks that your setting powder couldn’t cover.

#sam monroe #sam monroe smut #life as a house #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #starwars #star wars smut #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x reader #clay beresford #anakin skywalker

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

#gay bros #male transformation #hypno story #gay ai art #gay hypnosis #gay mind control

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relived. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a  Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n

[permanentswaps]

Building Each Other Up Pt. 2

Read Pt. 1 here.

Mark's POV

"Fuckkk," I muttered, flexing and feeling up my body and arms. The sensation of Shane being expelled from me, while surprising, actually felt really good—almost like a mental-only orgasm.

Shane, now in my body, was still sitting on the floor, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes. I took a moment to take it all in, before finally looking down at him.

"Shane, you okay?" I asked. “Or should I call you Mark now?” I said with a smile.

He blinked a few times, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, his voice—my voice—definitely a bit angry.

"I don't know, man. This is new for me too. I guess... I guess I pushed you out. Are you alright?" I said.

"No! Dude, what the fuck, why wouldn’t you get out?"

I raised my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to stay that long. I was just having such a good time training, and I wanted to help you out."

His eyes narrowed, frustration evident in his tone. "Well, that fucking sucked to be trapped inside my head for that long.”

"I know, I know," I said, my voice earnest. "I'm really sorry. I got carried away. It won't happen again."

"Okay, do we have any more of the potion on hand? Is that all we need to swap back, you think?" Shane asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Wait, wait, hold on," I said quickly. "You're out now. Why don't we just stay like this for a little bit? I'll keep training in your body, and you can actually enjoy the time off rather than just being locked in your head."

He looked at me, still clearly annoyed but weighing his options. To swap back, he knew he would need to jump into my body and go through that whole process again. And who knows if he’d be able to actually force me out of this sexy body if I didn’t want to leave?

Shane sighed, running a hand through his—my—hair. "Okay," he relented. "But just a few days. And you better not pull any more stunts."

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Scout's honor. Just a few days, I promise. And I’ll keep pushing hard at the gym to make sure you're in the best shape possible for the competition."

Before he could change his mind, I left the gym and walked out to my car and quickly took a few selfies.

---

The next night, I invited Ali over. It had been over a week since we’d last met up, and I was excited to be able to fuck him without Shane being there—it felt more intimate.

I wasn’t entirely sure how Shane felt about the sex part of the arrangement. Usually, if I even hinted at the idea of hooking up with a guy, he’d retreat into his subconscious and not be a part of it. He didn’t have a problem with me doing it per se. I mean how could he, it was his idea first. But I just think he found the whole thing a bit weird to not be in control of. I kind of got off on that back in the day, but I respect that he doesn’t.

But now, this was going to be the third time I’d hooked up with Ali. Maybe Shane would have a problem with me hooking up with the same guy so consistently—he probably wouldn’t want to give Ali the wrong ideas about this body.

Well, the good thing at least is that I’ve only really been messaging Ali on Grindr so far. I had made a profile using Shane’s pics on my own phone so that I could keep the fun going even when I was out of it. I made sure to have a secret backlog of photos too. All that to say, there’s not a huge risk of Shane finding out.

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door to see Ali standing there, looking hotter than ever in his tank top, beads of sweat still glistening from his workout. I could tell he had come straight from the gym, and the sight of his toned muscles and confident stride sent a jolt of excitement through me.

"Hey," he greeted me with a warm smile as he stepped inside. "You look great."

"Thanks, you too," I replied, my eyes drinking in the sight of his fit, athletic body.

We made our way to the living room, and as we settled in, Ali turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, I was thinking... how about we go on an actual date tonight instead of jumping straight into the hookup?"

I was taken aback. A date? I couldn’t remember the last time I went on a no-kidding date. Usually, the hot bottoms Ali’s age didn’t give my old body that kind of chance. I was more just a fun older fantasy for them—a quick, no-strings-attached daddy thrill.

"An actual date?" I repeated, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.

I hesitated for a moment, processing the words before saying, "Sure, why not? I’d like that."

We went downtown to a movie theater and watched the latest superhero movie. The place was packed, but we managed to get good seats near the back. About halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet moment, Ali reached over and gently took my hand in his. I glanced over at him, and he gave me a shy smile. Sure we had already fucked, but something about the innocence of the gesture made my heart race.

Later, as the movie progressed, I decided to make a move of my own. I shifted my hand from his and placed it on his muscular thigh, rubbing it up and down. My large hand practically swallowed his thigh, making it look small in comparison. Ali turned to me and grinned, biting his lip.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, we both stood and stretched, exchanging amused looks as we mimicked the superhero poses we’d just seen on screen. Damn that tank top left nothing to be desired as he flexed his biceps for me.

As we walked back to his place, we joked the whole way there.

"Damn, you're really funny," I said, nudging him playfully with my elbow.

"Thanks," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "I try."

When we reached his apartment building, I turned to him, feeling a bit reluctant to end the night. "I had a really nice time tonight. I really want to do this again sometime."

"Oh yeah, me too," Ali said with a grin. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "But we aren't done yet." He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him up to his apartment.

I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him inside. His apartment was cozy and stylish, and filled with cool travel memorabilia.

"So, what now?" I asked, leaning in closer.

Ali smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, we could start by picking up where we left off in the theater."

I didn’t need any more encouragement. I leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

We have a seat on the couch, and Ali wastes no time straddling me. I grab both sides of his waist, guiding him as he grinds on me through our clothes. The friction is intoxicating, and I can feel my dick getting hard, pressing insistently against my jeans.

Ali's hands are all over my pecs, exploring the firm muscles beneath my shirt. "Take it off," he whispers, lifting the fabric and tossing it aside. "Flex for me."

I oblige quickly, flexing my chest muscles, watching his eyes light up with desire. He leans in, moving to the side to lick my hairy pits. He moans, "God, you smell so good."

I grab the back of his head, holding him there with a firm but reassuring grip. The sensation of his tongue against my skin is electric, sending shivers down my spine. Eventually, he lifts his head, his eyes glazed with lust. He stands up, strips down in front of me, and straddles my waist again. This time, he’s naked, and he starts rubbing his hard cock between my pecs.

The feel of his smooth skin and the sight of his cock sliding between my pecs almost makes me lose control right then and there. I’m already on the edge, and I haven’t even entered him yet.

Ali takes off my pants, his fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls them down. He positions himself over my cock, looking down at me with a mix of anticipation and desire.

"You ready, cutie?" I ask, my voice low and husky.

"Yes, sir," he replies, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Good boy," I tell him as he slowly starts to sit, taking in all of my manhood. The tightness and heat around my cock are almost too much to bear. He moves at his own pace, adjusting to my size, and I can see the concentration and pleasure on his face.

He finally settles down completely, and we both let out a groan of satisfaction. I grip his hips firmly, guiding his movements as he starts to ride me. The rhythm builds slowly at first, then faster, more urgent.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I murmur, my hands roaming over his body, caressing his skin.

Ali's hands are braced on my chest, his fingers digging into my muscles as he rides me. "You too, sir," he gasps, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Soooooo fucking good."

I thrust up into him, meeting his movements with powerful strokes. The intensity of the connection between us is overwhelming, and I know I won’t last much longer.

"Come for me," I urge him, my voice rough with need. "Come on, boy."

With a cry, Ali's body tenses, and he spills his load over my chest. The sight and feel of him coming is enough to push me over the edge, and I climax inside him, filling him with everything I’ve got.

We collapse together on the couch, breathing hard and spent. Ali rests his head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"That was amazing," he says after a moment, his voice soft and content.

"Yeah, it was," I agree, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You were incredible."

He looks up at me with a smile. "So, when can we do this again?"

"Anytime you want," I reply, feeling a rush of happiness. "Anytime you want."

To be continued…

[lulublack90]

Prompt 11 - Fake Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 11, word count 875

“Eugh, my mum keeps asking who I’m bringing to my cousin's wedding!” Remus groaned as he checked the new message on his phone. “She’s getting worse. Ever since Oscar and I broke up it’s all she cares about.” He shook his head and put on a high-pitched voice, imitating Hope. “Reemuss,” He elongated his name like Hope did with her lilting accent. “Remus, why don’t you have a nice boy to bring to Gwen’s wedding? You should go find yourself someone, Remus.” He grimaced. “Like it’s so easy. She met dad in the middle of a forest when that guy jumped out of the trees at her and dad came to her rescue. Knowing my luck, the would be murderer would fall for me.” He leaned his head back and cursed the heavens. 

Sirius had sat there patiently listening to Remus grouse. He snatched Remus’s phone from his lap and typed a quick message to Hope. 

“There,” He said. “Now you have a date.” He grinned mischievously. Remus paled. 

“What did you do?” He picked up his phone and gasped. “Sirius! What the actual?!” His phone pinged as Hope started gushing about how happy she was and how much she’d always loved Sirius. He had to put his phone on silent to shut it up. Sirius had messaged Hope telling her that he was bringing Sirius as his date. Sirius who he’d had a crush on for years and told his mother every little thing about it. Oh gods, this was going to be a disaster. 

“It’ll be fine, Remus. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend for the day, and then we’ll mysteriously break up, none of them will be the wiser, and it'll make your mum happy.” Remus groaned into his hands. 

They travelled to Wales the day before the wedding and stayed at Remus’s parents house. Lyall greeted them at the door but then disappeared into his study. He was happy in there and Remus was happy he was in there, to be honest. They’d never quite seemed to quite understand each other and this way was easier, much to Hope’s annoyance. 

Hope, on the other hand, wrapped them both in her arms and cooed over Sirius.

“I knew you’d end up together. You’re perfect for each other.” Sirius lapped it up. The only problem they had was Hope put them in Remus’s old bedroom. They hadn’t thought of that when they’d agreed to stay there. There wasn’t even another spare room. 

“It’ll be fun,” Sirius beamed. “Like being back at school.” 

“We never shared a bed. That was you and James,” Remus reminded him. 

“Well, better late than never then, I guess,” Sirius responded. So that was how Remus found himself in bed with Sirius. 

Thankfully, morning came quickly and then it was time for the wedding. 

Everybody made a fuss about Sirius.

“He’s so handsome Remus,” His grandmother had declared when he’d introduced him. “You ought to put a ring on his finger, so he doesn’t get away,” She’d said loudly. Remus went beet red. 

“Nain, you can’t just yell that out!” He hushed her. 

“And why not? I want to see some great grand kids before I pop my clogs, and you aren’t getting any younger,”

“Oh my god,” He didn’t know how to handle her apart from with a gin and tonic and the bar wasn’t open yet. 

“Don’t you worry, Mrs Howell, I’ll make an honest man out of him.” Sirius said, linking her arm with his and leading her away to her table. He turned and winked at Remus. Remus wished he could turn invisible. 

By the end of the wedding, Sirius had won over all of Remus’s family and all of the grooms. In fact, more people knew who Sirius was at the wedding than knew who Remus was. 

Remus was glad when they were on their way back to his parents house. It had been a long day. “So,” Sirius asked him. “When are you going to pop the question? Your Nain’s promised me her engagement ring.” He grinned, fighting back a laugh at Remus. 

“Oh, haha, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes and said no more about the subject. 

That night, much to Remus’s surprise, Sirius snuggled under his arm and rested his head on Remus’s chest. 

“I had fun today.” Sirius told him with a sleepy voice. “Your family is really nice, and I might just steal your Nain. She was brilliant.” He turned his head to look at Remus. “Thank you for letting me come.” He said quietly. 

“You invited yourself. I had nothing to do with it.” Remus huffed. 

He closed his eyes hoping Sirius would take the hint. But instead, Sirius pushed up and kissed him. Remus’s eyes shot open, and he stared at Sirius. 

“I was serious about that ring, Moony. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.” Remus didn’t know what to say, so he dragged Sirius’s face back to his and kissed him deeper than their first. He melted as Sirius kissed him back. “Took you long enough,” Sirius murmured against his lips. Remus had never been happier. He made a note to send a bottle of champagne to his cousin, because without her this might never have happened.   

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fluff #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #hope lupin #lyall lupin #hope lupins mother #nain Howell #wedding #why wont my mum let me be #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #oh you like me two #didn't see that coming #fake date

[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART TWO)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i got sick from the trip. oops. enjoy the new chapter! oh, and the one where the reader is being shoved out of the elevator, that one is a true story, by the way. I was being shoved out of the elevator by this guy I met at the cruise—all because I didn’t give him the attention. not only that i got stood up twice--one on the hangout, the other on my 27th birthday. and he thinks it's weird that i like hotd and said ewan mitchell looks weird. good thing i don't have to see him again.

Somehow, to think you met up with Michael Gavey again in the library, now that Oliver Quick is gone. By gone, Oliver might have gotten bored of Michael Gavey, you assumed.

There was a party last night, and you didn’t attend. Not that you’re too good or above for the party; you just hated the noise at the moment. You wanted a different kind of ambience to set the mood. Needless to say, you earned a lot of cash on that night.

With moonlighting as a camgirl, things have gotten easier. If you haven’t left your parents, things would’ve been worse if they found out.

Despite the cruel years, it became a simple memory.

Sitting beside you, Michael offered another crunchie--delicious as always. It's a good pair with hot cup of joe to pair with the sweet chocolate. Although you learned that Michael hated coffee, he'd rather prefer tea, a tea that tasted bland to you. You needed something strong--Starbucks would've been great, but a coffee from Oxford? You can't pass up to try the flavor of coffee from another country you've set yourself in.

Missing the opportunity would be as stupid--all opportunities have been unlocked, all thanks to you being as a famous camgirl. My, oh my, you are moonlighting as a naughty girl in bed time--no parents constantly sneaking in being nosy as hell. You did lie to them--half-lie--by claiming that you have been acting nuts at night--doing all the prayers and bible study sessions, which is a total fucking lie.

You never liked bible studies or prayers before Sundays. It's a hassling lifestyle to live in--to live so virtuously while shaming everyone's lifestyle who aren't religious.

People with an aspect of a pretentious goody-two-shoes was the last thing you need. Oliver Quick is a goody two-shoes; the boy obsessed with math has caught your eye, plain and simple. A bit eccentric, but sexually frustrated, as you guessed before the moment your eyes met his baby blues.

Three weeks later, the magical aspect of Oxford hasn't begun.

"Crunchie," a voice said, tingling your skin and poked at one side of your waist with a slight tickle.

Beside you, Michael Gavey showed up with a slight grin on his face, oddly satisfied this morning.

Who the hell smiles in the morning?

"Not an early riser, I see," he commented.

His pleasant tone prickled in between your thighs.

"Oh yeah, fine and dandy--needed a cup of coffee," you said, grouchy. "I was studying all night--got the assignment wrong."

"What kind of assignment?"

"It's, um, it's an English essay," you lied, pen twirled between your agitated fingers. "This professor is really getting on my nerves when it comes to the essay. Acting all superior and shit--telling me I keep getting my annotations wrong and that I misinterpreted the meaning of the symbolism and theme in the story. I hate pretentious professors like that. No matter where I go, some things never change. They always have favoritism, it's fucking weird."

Michael chuckled. "Perhaps you have been partying?"

"Partying? Please, I needed peace and quiet for some alone time to concentrate on my studies. If I want to have a good future, I had to have at least a C or B. I fucked up bad."

Seems like the lie went smoothly as always.

"So, have you been at the party last night? Sneaking in since you didn't get your invite?" you asked.

Michael placed his hand over his cheek, nearly covering his lips. "I stayed in my dorm."

"Ah, doing math homework, I assume? Anything math related? Science into the mix, maybe."

Michael stayed quiet.

"I'm not really into math. I thought it's confusing," you commented.

Michael chortled. "Perhaps I could tutor you this afternoon. Usually I don't like teaching the numbing idiots of the subject matter. One guy was staring at the girl’s tits while doing times tables. Times tables! Need them to fuck off and do something valuable for once!”

You stopped what you're doing and glanced at him. And it clicked an idea into your head.

“Am I also the numbing idiot?”

He shook his head. “You might be, if you are. These knuckleheads at the library, all they’ve done useless flirting, not studying.”

“That’s what library is for, Michael. To study. No harm in a little flirting.”

Come to think of it, Michael at the library with you sounds nice.

He smiled a little, though not in a friendly way.

"Sure," you said, eating the half crunchie. "Why not? Teach me, so I could get better grades. Life is already hard enough as it is. So got any crunchy to start the session? It will take a while.”

~~~

For the past an hour or two, Michael tutored you. Although as excruciating painful to hear numbers and equations with letters, you couldn’t help but to stare at the cute nerd. Ah, a cutely frustrated nerd, maybe. His curlish dirty blond hair, thick framed glasses and his smile when he talks about math, these thoughts never spare you freedom. You are trapped, trapped by thirst that needed to be quenched.

With your cherry-red boots and skirt and a rosy pink lace top, you opt to show your cleavage by tucking your mini top downward, crossing your legs, coiled your apetite. With your hair flip, or hair twirls, biting your red lips, you were hoping Michael would give a comment or two, but tutoring was his priority, but since you wanted his attention, asking questions about math and equations would definitely keep him on his seat. His eyes on you.

His cute nerdy glasses. His cheeky and toothy smile.

Masturbating seems to be an option, but what happens if that option is no longer helpful? You wanted an alternative approach.

Maybe masturbating in public would be nice, but you’re smarter than that.

But each time you attempt to flirt, he seemed clueless. But he did at one point had a crush on a news anchor. And so your mind mentally made an account.

Dear Diary,

Michael Gavey didn’t notice me. How the hell am I supposed to get his oblivious attention on me? I hope I don’t die as a lonely virgin. I’m a bad bitch; I just want to fuck him so badly, watching his glasses fog up and lips soak at my aching pussy, whimpering underneath me and my dominance.

Then it clicked you.

However, you knew right away of this information when he liked watching news—the news anchor. Although she has a kid, the green envy seared and punctured your belly.

Maturity is what men and guys want.

Though it didn’t stop you from chasing Michael’s attention. Days gone by when you try a different style. That is until you met this guy, a popular guy, who’s name you not care—who complimented and dubbed you as “the hottest girl in campus.”

An idea conjured; if you practice with a guy, maybe it would be easier to make the first move on Michael. Thus, you went along with his flirting, but at the end of the night, you felt sure you were ready, until he took you out in the hall, and make out with you. But you didn’t care, you didn’t want to kiss the dude, you wanted to kiss Michael.

You felt nothing in his erotic moves.

When he tried to get into your underwear, you shoved his hands away. Thus, the little adventure with the guy, and ended up shoving you out of the elevator.

It was a pathetic night.

Nonetheless, your camgirl starts within an hour or two—took a shower and dressed up as a sexy office worker, with fake smart glasses with your tight office shirt loosened two buttons for your cleavage to show, with pencil skirt and stockings and red bottom heels.

On the cam session, did a little roleplay, and with feral thirst, legs spread apart, ripping your stockings and reveal your wet pussy. At the thought of Michael, his face, his voice, two fingers inserted in your cunt, as your hips formed a gyration, moaning aloud.

Michael…

You nearly screamed his name, but your climax came quicker.

All the comments flooded in, and more cash has stocked into your bank account.

You wondered if chasing Michael was even worth it. Hopefully one of these days, he’ll finally notice you.

~~~

Michael shoved in a few cash onto your new stream. Dressing up as a news anchor or an office lady, he found himself turned on, how your skin was gleaming with arousal, office glasses crooked from humping and gyrating, grinding your hips in fast pace like a feral beast that you hid beneath all the girlish and cherry red clothing, a clothing that outlined your perfect hips and perfect waist.

A horny devil.

He pretended his hand is your hand, your mouth, your throbbing, wet cunt, tightened around his bulging cock. The way he fisted his cock so much he couldn’t stand watching you flirting with that stupid boy.

Michael had a plan and he couldn’t wait to be inside you, but the question is…

When?

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @halsteadstyles @liannafae @ammo23 @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @parttimegay @lcolumbia1988 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #smut #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #fandoms #multifandom #fanfics #fandom #writers of tumblr #writer #writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writers #tumblr writers #my writing #archive of our own #ao3 #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan nation #michael gavey #saltburn x reader #write #writers and poets #fics

[st-el-la-luna]

Call of the Valley {Call of Duty x Reader/Stardew Valley AU｝

Prologue: Grey

➔ gn!reader ("you"/"your" pronouns used), thoughts of violence, mentions of death

no character introductions yet, just some world building. unedited

Series masterlist!

next

997 words

Grey walls. Grey ceilings. Grey floors. Grey desks. 

Everywhere you look is grey. From the meticulously lined cubicles to the desks lacking any personalization. From the uncomfortable chairs to the equally as uncomfortably sticky floors. From the company provided coffee mug to the company provided calendar. From your coworker's outfit (you swear that sweater used to be blue) to the contents of your lunch. 

It’s all grey. 

You sigh as you push around the mushy overcooked rice on your desk before you. In the silence of the office, you might as well have fired a gun, the sound a stark contrast to the usual deadness. The only sounds typical of this purgatory you call work are the tap-tap-tapping of keys and the clicking of mouses. Plus, the occasional beep of the microwave, or slam of the fridge door (you swear that fridge has been here longer than any employee. The way the lightbulb buzzes when you open the door sounds like a cry for help. A plea for you to end its decades-long misery. You, of course, don’t. If you must suffer, then so too must the fridge). 

Someone clears their throat from the entry of your cubicle. You turn away from your sad little lunch to find your sad little supervisor. Who, surprise, surprise, is dressed in, you guessed it, even more grey. 

“Something the matter?” she asks you with a smile that makes you want to use your cheap plastic fork to carve out her eyes. “I could have sworn I heard something.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” you try for a smile in return, not sure why you bother considering you hate her guts as much as she hates yours. “I’m just... tired.” 

“Well, tired or not, you know better than to bring that kind of attitude to the workplace. Big smiles, remember? The atmosphere matters you know!” 

“Right, yeah,” you nod, barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Big smiles.” 

“Come on, let’s see it,” your supervisor says, tapping the sign on your cubicle wall *Smile, you’re with Joja!* You put on a smile which she returns with a patronizing scrunch of her nose, talking to you like one would an unruly child. “There, that wasn’t that hard now, was it?” 

It wouldn’t be too hard to use my stapler to knock your teeth in, you bitch. It’d only take a couple of hits... All the red would really brighten this place up... Ever heard of colour theory? 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Not that hard.” 

Your computer beeps. Your lunch break is over. You haven’t touched your food. 

Your supervisor's smile widens. The brown-nosing corporate shill that she is. “Well, you’d better get back to it... And try to do better this afternoon. Your numbers have been trailing all morning. I’d hate to have to write you up.” 

“Yeah,” you say as you drop your food into the rubbish. “I’m sure.” 

Your computer goes off again, demanding your attention. Your supervisor stands there for a moment longer than she needs to, as if checking that you’re really going to work, then hums, pleased, and walks away. 

It’s going to be a long day...  

But hey, look on the bright side, you won’t be doing this forever. 

One day you’ll die. 

Die... The thought echoes in your head for a bit. Die... Die... 

Your gaze falls to the drawer of your desk where the letter from your late great-uncle sits, waiting to be opened. You didn’t know the guy much, the family didn’t really talk about him, and he never came to any gatherings. But he had no kids and, well... No one really. He’d been thrilled when you had expressed interest in enlisting in your early teens. He taught you all the tricks of the trade and then some. 

He was less thrilled when you told him you’d changed your mind. 

It really wasn’t that shocking news. He’d kept talking on and on about pulling some strings, using his connections, but it’s just... not what you wanted anymore. You weren’t a kid anymore and well, you had to be realistic. 

Besides, they didn’t want you to enlist. You’d tried and well... While you passed the physical tests fine and were more than smart enough to work in intelligence or as a bomb tech, your psychological tests were... Less than stellar. Which was difficult to explain to a man who, despite having watched countless of his friends die and witness atrocities you could never fathom, thought that mental illness was a sham created by the youth to get out of doing real work. 

It’s not like you’d caused his heart attack. He was already sick. And all the smoking and drinking from his days on active duty surely didn’t help. He got himself too worked up over something small, and well... His heart just couldn’t take any more of it. 

Speaking of being unable to take anymore... you can hear your supervisor coming back around. You look between your monitor and the desk drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor... 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to write you up. Just know this isn’t-” 

“I quit.” 

And, just like that, you grab your few personal belongings and shove past her to the door, manilla envelope clutched in your hand.  

She sputters something behind you, makes a move to grab your wrist. You dodge. 

“You can’t be serious,” she says. “You... You can’t quit now! It’s the busiest time of the year!” 

“I just did... Oh, and Stacy?” 

“Yes?” she asks, almost hopeful. 

“You’re a right bitch. Just wanted to let you know.” 

Her entire face goes red as her cheeks puff out. “You... I... Wh...” 

You leave her there to her aneurysm, walking into the elevator and letting the doors close behind you. 

You lean your head back against the grey wall, resting your weight against the railing. You glance at the envelope in your hand. 

God... Please don’t let this be a mistake.  

please comment and reblog to support my writing! asks are always open! Literally nothing inspires me to write more!

who should we meet first and how?

taglist: @tooloudarts @cadotoast

Masterlist!

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #call of the valley au #x reader #stardew valley #au #stardew au #cod x reader #task force 141

[maddragon15]

Finalized design for my version of Etho for hermitcraft s10!

Warning long infodump ahead about the decisions made and general lore

So I've had this idea that redstone is like uranium. Powerful, can be used for energy + various machinery and scientific discoveries, used to increase the value of the everyday lives (uranium girls ref) but with the major cause of life deletion/life altering affects. I believe that it would cause more mutations within redstoners over the course of time they are exposed to it and the varying degree that they're covered in it. But redstone is a fairly new resource that has been discovered in the world of minecraft/hermitcraft. So the research behind it isn't as strong nor as known as it should be. Therefore every effect that happens to the pioneers of redstone is completely new and unheard of. Which might be the reason why some builders like Grian, Scar, Ren, Gem, etc are hesitant to fully learn redstone mechanics due to the unknown nature of it but still aren't fully opposed because of the benefits it has. In my world of hermitcraft for season 10 it's built off of the fact that there's quite a few people leaning into that cybery, technological, sci-fi theme. Like the Punks, then Ren's Gigaverse and of course the nature of Doc in general. So the main story is that this world of hc2410 is that it's a world that was much similar to earth. It went through the usual set of technological feats bit by bit, culture by culture. For a long time their main power source which fueled everything was glowstone, a semi renewable material exported from the Nether and harvested from blazes and the blaze rods. Blaze rods were grinded down then compressed into glass like bilets which were then heated, strained, and forged into various forms that were needed. For a while it was small 2x2 inch cubes mainly used in lamps and later 6x6 foot cubes for lighthouses. But as the age of the iron wore on technology looked much like the era of the vacuum tubes.

Thus began the swap of simplified forms of glowstone into the complexities of tubes and the requirement of more materials and longer time to create these specialized parts. Though that didn't stop what pioneers were part of that era, these guys being Etho, Tango, Doc, and Mumbo. It took long and multiple days worth of work to even produce what would be a 4 part machine now with the era of the glowstone tubes but they were young and confident that things could and would be optimized. Now these guys were very basic hybrids, Etho an arctic fox, Tango a nether born blaze, Doc whom was a rare specices of creeper, and Mumbo who was actually just a human. Glowstone in itself was a relatively safe material to work with unless of course consumed, if consumed it would wear down the lining of the stomach, cause holes in the intestines, and heat the user to an unbearable degree akin to the infamous iron bull method of torture except it was your insides and only your insides being subjected to it. To the person that found this out would never be credited and largely forgotten in most history records. So when Etho was working on the mines with his crew and discovered redstone there was a guess and perhaps a hope that it would be as safe as glowstone. Therefore safety percautions that were handled with materials like obsidian and diamond were thrown out the window. Instead it was instantly collected into glass cylinders and brought back to the workshop to be played around with.

With Etho being the main guy who really played around with it and pretty much like at it like ate it like it was sugar was thee very first to experience the mutational effect of redstone. At first his left eye would begin to flicker with rapid involuntary movement, then followed a set of what would be dubbed "chromatic abberation" (etho would be the only one to experience this and no one can confirm what he saw was accurate due to the mental state he was in), and the onset of vision loss. But this wasn't the first and last effect, he would begin to develop a second tail and unusual pelt coloring akin to the color of the newfound material. Much like the later steps of his changes the second tail development was not a pain free one. As the months continued his mental state worsened, this was due to the psychoactive effects of redstone and already altered vision. He would begin to see things that weren't there in a translucent red glow often accompanied by intense localized migraines behind the left eye. It would get so intense and unbearable that in the middle of developing the infamous etho hopper clock he began to claw at his left eye but the fingernails weren't enough and instead used a screwdriver to try to get it out. However Doc and Tango would find Etho moments before a prosthetic eye would take the permanent place of a redstone scarred eye. Although Etho did wear a mask during the initial stages of redstone development and technology it wouldn't be enough against the sheer intake the 4 went through. Therefore under the careful guise of Xisumavoid, who'd later become the main caretaker/medic and manager, and Doc they would make several changes to how redstone was regulated. Making a mandate that all personnel, consumer, mechanic, and who ever else would have to wear a respirator and gloves during the usage of redstone. You'd think this would be easy to get the crew to swap into using respirators at the very least but it was met with much hesitation and backlash due to the blukiness that came with them. It was already tough to pack around the canisters of redstone, glowstone tubes, and iron baseplates and now they also had to squeeze into tight spaces with a clunky mess? But again Doc and Xisuma found ways to make sure that each member found a way to have their own variation of resperation based upon needs. It wasn't too hard to make one for Etho because he already had a mask but his stubbornness rivaled Doc, and took a near fatal pass out due to lack of blood production, aka just more extreme anemia, and bloody nose to convince Etho to finally add that respirator onto his mask. Despite however the apparent dangers of redstone it sent the world of hc2410 into a new world of technology seemingly overnight, from clunky 60s-70s style tan and heavy clunk switches into an age more similar to thin touch panels and streamlined designs of now but with the flair of the iconic synthwave/cyberpunk style deemed by the 80s-90s. Yet it was met with strife due to how time consuming redstone was even with several engineers helping out on one project and most innovations were only available to the richest before being thrown out for the latest and greatest.

Thus the reason why for most parts of hc2410 many will be seen with previous and malfunctioning innovations or straight up tech from the glowstone era. One of these people is Mumbo who still uses comms from the glowstone era as a way to keep his small hometown economy running because any way to help Big Ron was a win in his book. Pearl is also another example user of older innovations or at least less redstone heavy variations. Rather going into the world of solar, and botany side of technology dubbed leafstone. Other variations of older innovations would also have to be old port towns who used wind and small hydroplants to keep their town running and connected with the rest of the world such as Gem's & Grian's hometown.

Also you may recall, if you've made it to this point, that I mentioned that the 4 were basic hybrids. Well much like Etho the effects on the rest weren't simple nor painless, and varied quite differently from each other. But those will be covered once their designs are finished.

Edit: I also want to include that one of the main design inspos is actually Snakeyes from Gi Joe because that man is absolute gender to me. So why not combine my two favorite guys into one character.

I thank you if you've made it this far and I'll see you on the next hermitaday posts! :3

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #ethoslab #etho fanart #par art #par hc

[pre11yyy]

Synopsis: Mark got short of money so he decided to take jeno's idea of trying porn into consideration

A.N: i don't really know how porn works so everything here is made up, also i forgot to a point that this was supposed to be porn so there is that.

Mark has been running short of money lately, so short, none of his part time jobs were enough for his college titutions neither they were enough to pay for his rent, he sighed resting his head on the single black sofa thinking about what he can do, he chew on his lower lip recalling his friend's Jeno words yesterday "what about acting in porn?" the later asked making Mark widen his eyes in disbelieve from the words that left his friend, his ears red "wtf do you mean dude no" he was quick to shut the offer down. But now he couldn't help but think about it.

He had heard stories about people earning so much in a single shoot, he wasn't a virgin but he had never had sex with someone he didn't know, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so he decided to call Jeno and ask for more information about the job. Jeno was quick to answer the phone. "Hey, I was starting to think you had changed your mind about that offer." Mark felt a little embarrassed, but he had to face reality. "No, I'm still interested. I just… needed some time to think about it, I guess." "Well, you came to the right place," Jeno replied with a chuckle. "I've got some connections in the industry, and I can get you an audition for one of the biggest production companies around. They're always looking for new talent." "Really?" Mark asked, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Really. Just meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at noon, and I'll give you all the details you need." "Okay," Mark agreed, hanging up the phone. He sat there for a moment, still unable to believe that he was actually considering this.

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a real possibility. And if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He would give it his all, just like he always did. The day of the audition came, Mark had no idea what they r gonna make him do in this audition, lucky for him that Jeno knew one of the guys that he introduced him to as Jaemin, he was quick to reassure Mark about everything, scanning him from head to toe before encouraging him to come to the audition. "So,What do you need me to do?" Mark asked, trying to hide his nervousness. Jaemin smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Well, We just want to see how you handle yourself on camera. We need you to follow my instructions, and do exactly what I tell you. Understood?" Mark nodded, taking a deep breath. "Understood." "Great. Now, why don't you get comfortable?" Jaemin motioned for him to sit on the black leather chair in the center of the room. "Just close your eyes and relax. I'm going to give you some directions through your earpiece."

Mark closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. He could feel the weight of the earpiece in his ear, and the gentle hum of Jaemin's voice as he began to give him instructions. "Okay… Mark… take a deep breath. Now, slowly exhale…" As he followed Jaemin's instructions, Mark felt himself beginning to relax. His heart rate slowed down, and his muscles loosened. He was ready. Or at least he thought so before Jaemin's next words hit him like a ton of bricks.

"All right, Mark. Time to strip for the camera and jerk off." What the hell? As much as Mark knew this is what the job is about he couldn't help the shock he felt, he has never done anything like this in front of anyone before, he cleared his throat reminding himself that he needs the money , this is his only shot to make it out of this hole he dug himself into, and he has to do it. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing his toned abs and broad chest. Then he slid off his pants, revealing his boxer briefs, which were already starting to bulge. He hesitated for a moment, but then continued, unfastening his belt and lowering his underwear. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it.

"That's it, Mark. You're doing great," Jaemin encouraged him through the earpiece. "Just keep going, and remember to make it look realistic." With a deep breath, Mark began to stroke himself, trying to mimic the movements he had seen in porn. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of his hand gliding up and down his shaft, and the anticipation of the inevitable release. As he continued, he could feel the tension building within him. His breathing became labored, and his muscles tensed. He knew he was close, but he had to hold on for just a little longer. He could hear Jaemin's voice in his ear, guiding him through each thrust, each caress.

Finally, he felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen, and the warmth spreading through his body. He moaned softly as he released his load, shooting thick, white ropes of cum across the room. His muscles relaxed, and he collapsed back into the chair, spent. He opened his eyes, blinking away the last remnants of the orgasm. Jaemin was watching him intently from across the room, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Very good, Mark. You will definitely work for us" Jaemin was impressed by the man's cock and expressions, having already a vision of how many people will come searching for his videos in the future . "Thank you," Mark managed to say between ragged breaths not really sure about what he is thanking the man about but he had to say something. "Don't mention it. Now, why don't you go ahead and get dressed? We'll talk about the next steps once you're ready." Gratefully, Mark stood up and began to dress. As he did, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed after seeing the mess he made on the leather chair but he shook it off quickly, following one of the staff to another waiting room where other contestants were sitting . He took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself, waiting for someone to tell him what would happen next.

"Mark?" a familiar voice said, and he looked up to see Jeno standing beside him. "You did great in there." "Thanks," Mark managed to reply, still feeling a little shaky. "I hope so." Jeno smiled reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder. "Trust me, you killed it. You're going to be perfect for this job." He paused, then added with a wink, "And don't worry about the mess you made. They clean up after everyone." Mark couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "Okay," he said, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Jeno. I really appreciate it." They sat in silence for a moment, just watching the others in the room. Finally, one of the staff members approached them and informed them about the last test which was for them to fuck a woman, Mark was so nervous, it has been so long since he has been laid or even thought about sex with someone else, he couldn't help but worry about his performance. "Don't worry about it," Jeno whispered to him. "You'll be fine. Just remember to enjoy it." And with that, the woman was brought in, and the final test began.

Mark was so nervous, he couldn't even remember your name. All he could focus on was your body as soon as he stepped in, seeing you laying on the bed in your whole glory, wearing only a red dress that left nothing to imagination, you turned your head upon hearing the door click and you couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that slipped out of you, you were sure that he is inexperienced just by the way he walked towards you, his steps hesitant and unsure. "You can take your time, sweetheart," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with honey. Mark looked at you, his eyes wide with anticipation, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I… I don't want to hurt you," he stammered. You laughed, a genuine, throaty sound that made his cock twitch. "Oh, don't worry about that. I can take care of myself." He nodded slowly, still unsure, but you could see the determination in his eyes. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs, you locked your eyes with his trying to seduce him and wanting just to get over this, sure that he won't do a good job but to your surprise he did.

Mark could feel his cock twitch at the way your were giving him attention his eyes wondering around your body not really sure where he should start with but remembering Jeno's words he followed his instincts trying to ignore the way the camera was on him. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, and then slowly began to make his way up your body. Your skin was so soft beneath his lips, and you let out a soft moan as he reached your breast. He cupped it in his hand, gently massaging your nipple through the fabric of your dress. "That's it," you whispered, arching your back. "Touch me." He took this as a go signal and slowly began to unbutton your dress, revealing more and more of your body to him. Your breasts were full and perfect, and he couldn't help but marvel at them. With one final pull, the dress fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked. "Fuck," he breathed, staring at your body. "You're so beautiful." You smiled, running your hands through his hair. "Thank you," you purred. "Now, why don't you show me what you've got?" your eyes drifted to the tent on his pants, biting your lips you dragged your foot over it seeing how he dropped his head to the back a small groan leaving his lips, you smirked he looks big and you were so curious to see if you were right or not . He looked up at you, eyes dark with lust and it made your insides clench, maybe just maybe he started to grow up on you, Jaemin ruined this moment signaling you to hurry up as there is more contestants coming in and he didn't want you two to be late. "Come here, Mark," you said, pulling him down to you. "Let's see what you can do." He didn't hesitate, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss as he pushed his pants down, freeing his cock. You wrapped your hands around him, marveling at how hard he already was so impressed by how heavy he felt in your hold, your insides throbbing with anticipation before you guided him towards you entrance, both of you let breathy moans as you felt him stretch you perfectly, your eyes already watering at his size . "Fuck, you feel so good," he moaned, thrusting deeper into you. "So tight." You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you felt him bottom out. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, before pulling back and slamming hard into you again. "Yes," you cried, your head falling back, loving the feeling of him filling you so completely.

His pace was relentless, and you knew he was going to leave you sore and bruised, but that was the last thing you cared for, enjoying the stretch and focusing on the way he thrusts on you, your eyes rolled back, moaning constantly while Mark was basically on another dimension, loving the way you clench around him and the feeling of you dragging him down for a kiss. "Oh, God, I'm close," he panted, his rhythm becoming erratic and all the doubts he had about this job started fading away he'll definitely enjoy his job here, he find his hands going to wrap around your jaw, making you lock eyes with him and seeing the way you looked at him, biting your lip and moaning , he knew that this won't be the last time, he'll make sure to keep you coming back to him, he'll make sure to get into this contract and be your personal toy.

"Me too," you said, arching your back and grinding down on him. "m s-so fucking close" everything about you was so pornographic from the way you moaned to your facial expressions, everything was driving him crazy and Mark couldn't help himself, he wanted to ruin you, he wanted you to scream his name and collapse under him. With a harsh cry, your body tensed and you came, your inner muscles gripping him tightly as your release spilled around him. He followed close behind, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself into you. "Fuck," he groaned, collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily. You wrapped your arms around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing through you. "That was… intense," you panted. That was the last time you've met Mark, he got accepted to the company yet your schedules never aligned and that was a shame cause none of people you had after him stretched you that good, every time you can't help it but imagine him instead… Months passed by and you started hearing a lot about him, you refused to check out his videos, scared? maybe! But you were more hopeful that you'll have a project together and you wanted to find out what changed, how good he has become, it was more thrilling for you this way and as if the universe had heard your prayers your manager had assigned you a project with Mark, you couldn't believe it, the stars were really aligned tonight.

Receiving the script that same morning your heart throbbed so hard from excitement , you had butterflies in your stomach and for the first time in a long time, you couldn't wait for the day to be over, for you two to meet again and for you to see if he's still as good as you remember.

And here you are, sitting in the makeup chair, wearing a small nurse dress, your boobs threatening to spill from the material, your hair down and wavy, a tiny ribbon tied around it. You're nervous, excited, and a bit anxious. "Almost done," the makeup artist says, finishing up with your lips. There was nothing out of ordinary in this makeup, it was leaning more to the natural side, but you still felt like a million bucks. Stepping out from you makeup room you noticed a more muscular figure back facing you while talking with Jaemin, an undercut black hair styled perfectly, the black button on hugging his body perfectly, highlighting his sculpted form, as it was tucked on his jeans, his waist so much smaller making him stand out, 'that's not Mark right?' there was no way he became this muscular in a short amount of time. Jaemin's voiced cut your thoughts signaling you to come in, the man next to him turned around as well and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched at the sight of Mark, more handsome than last time and most importantly his demeanor a lot different, more confident it was as if he was a different person. You felt his eyes scan your uniform, biting on his bottom lip as he take it in, before smiling at you . "You look great," he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on the back. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, taking in his scent, something musky and earthy, and you can't help the way it makes your insides flutter, Jaemin smiled already loving the chemistry "you'll look so good in this video i can sense the hit" he smirked as he took in the tension between the both of you.

"You two know what to do" he said and left, letting you and Mark talk things out before filming. "How have you been?" you asked, feeling a little bit awkward after all those months,"I've been good, you?" he replied, still holding your hand. "I've been… fine," you shrugged. "So… you like the new look?" u gestured to the different color you died ur hair to,He smirked and ran his fingers through his hair. "I do, it suits you." "Thanks," you breathed out. "You look… different." u added and he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah…I've been working out" he shrugged making you hum in response He tilted his head to the side, studying you, obviously hesitating to say something before he let it go "So, have you seen any of my videos since then?" You shake your head. "No, I've been avoiding them." you replied honestly and that made him raise an eyebrow. "Why?" curiosity very evident on his tone and it made you giggle,glancing away, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well, i just wanted to discover how much u've improved since then live, you know.."

He smiled at that. "Sounds like you've waiting for this to happen" he gestured to the small studio you r in right now, a bunch of medical equipment filling the space with a single bed in the center. "Well, I've been practicing. I've gotten better at…" he paused, his cheeks flushing a little. "You know." you chuckle at his flustered face nodding in understanding "yeah" you mumbled, shifting your hair the the other side, you could feel Mark's eyes bore into you, his gaze focused on your exposed neck looking forward to what will happen, the scenario playing on his head again, and again and again…

The staff were making sure to set the place perfectly, trying different angles in the camera to see which one works the best before signaling for you to start, Mark was sitting on the small bed which looked even smaller in contrasts with his bigger form, his hands playing with his phone waiting for you 'his nurse' to show up, with a deep breath you stepped in smiling while welcoming him, carrying a small medical kit in your hand. Mark put his phone away, returning your smile as you walked closer. "Hey, Mr Lee, how are you feeling today?" you ask, making sure to keep eye contact. He chuckled, his gaze lingering on your lips. "I'm good, thanks.how about you?"

"I'm doing great, actually." You set the medical kit down on the bedside table and turned bending over a little bit to get the 'thermometer' that fall 'accidentally', flashing your whole ass to the camera and to Mark as your small dress rode up, his eyes scanning your backside as you stood back up, he swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled, trying to not give anything away. "It seems like you're doing a lot better." you tried to soften your voice turning back to him helping him to pull up his sleeves, his arm revealing his toned and muscular biceps, making you want to touch them. "Oh definitely" He replied, his eyes staring at ur cleavage that was presented deliciously in front of him, his pants tightening in arousal, his hand twitches, wanting to touch it, to feel it,

"So, let's get started." You say, taking his hand and leaning him down to the bed, your breasts almost touching his arm. "I need to take your temperature first." "Oh, alright." He nods, his grip on your hand tightening. Once he's lying down, you climb onto the bed as well, straddling his waist. Your hair cascades over his chest, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck as you reach up to take his temperature.

As you take his temperature, your breasts brush against his chest, and you feel his hands snake around to gently grope them through your shirt. He sucks in a breath, his hips bucking against yours in silent invitation. The feel of his strong, warm body beneath you sends a shiver down your spine. But you had to follow the script, trying to pull away from his grasp his hands keeping you tightly from moving, his lips whispering loud enough for the mics to pick "Don't act like you don't like it, you've been teasing me since i came in here, you're my nurse and it's your duty to take care of me, don't u agree?" You moan,despite you shaking your head in disagreement, pushing him away, Mark scoffed his hand going to wrap around your hair tugging at it to expose your neck, his free hand traveling to the front of your dress, groping your breast through the material harshly, your head falling back as he does.

"That's more like it" he groaned as another moan escaped ur lips, his fingers working harder on ur nipples twisting and tugging at the bud on top of the dress, his other hand still tangled in your hair, his tongue traced your earlobe making you shiver "You pretend like you don't want to get fucked yet look at you not even wearing a bra, such a dirty girl" "Please," you beg, arching into his touch.His lips ghosting over ur breasts wetting the fabric with is tongue as he took one nipple between his teeth, his free hand now cupping your ass and lifting you onto him, his hard cock pressing directly into your core.

"God you're wet" he growled, feeling your wetness through his pants,his fingers sliding down under ur panties parting your folds, finding your clit already hard and swollen. His fingers teased you, circling your bud for a few seconds, before he carried you making you sit on his face, his tongue lapping at your wetness, your hands finding their way into his hair pulling at it slightly as he worked his tongue on your folds. "Oh fuck yes," you moan, grinding your hips down against his mouth, using him, rolling your eyes back and arching your back, enjoying his tongue lashing on ur cunt. "You taste so good, baby," he groans, his words vibrating through your body making you tighten your grip on his face choking him with your thighs.

Mark can feel himself getting lightheaded, his vision starting to blur, but he doesn't care. All he can think about is the way your pussy tastes and the way your body feels pressed against his. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, and he can feel the blood rushing to his head. He moans against your clit,the vibrations send a shock wave after another one through your body, making you tremble with pleasure. "I'm going to cum," you warn him, and he doubles down, his tongue thrusting into your hole making you throw ur head back, he was so good at using his tongue his nose rubbing against your clit consistently.

"Mmm, yeah," he growls loving your taste, his voice muffled by your pussy."oh my god!" you cry out, your body shaking as you reach your climax, the pleasure rippling through you, your legs turning into jelly as you collapse on top of him. He takes in a shuddering breath, his mind spinning from the combination of the oxygen deprivation and the taste of your cum on his tongue. His cock is painfully hard, and he can feel it throbbing against his pants, desperate to be free and inside you. "Fuckkk" he groaned, his voice rough from the lack of air and the intense sensations that have just washed over him.

With shaking hands, he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal his hardened cock. His eyes meet yours looking down at him with flushed face ur thighs resting between his head and it took everything from him to not bite on the soft flesh, he lifted you again, easily guiding you down to meet his hardness.

"Fuck into me" his voice was so commanding that it sent a shiver down your spine, his hands grabbing and squeezing your ass while his lips attached themselves to ur breasts again biting and sucking on ur nipples while keeping your dress on. "Oh God," you whimper, feeling his cock stretching you open, the same stretch you've been craving for, your hips bucking, ur hands digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in deeper. "Fuck yeah," Mark groans, his hips thrusting up, meeting ur movement, his mouth moving higher, sucking on your collarbones, the saliva on his lips making a wet sound as they connect with your skin. His hands move up, cupping your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, making them hard and sensitive.

"Fuck I love how wet you are," he moans, his hips thrusting up, the thick head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your moans fill the room, ur hips moving in rhythm with his, your hands fisting in his hair as you ride him, ur nails digging into his scalp as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you…. "Fuckkk, I'm gonna…" you pant, your orgasm building, growing, threatening to consume you whole. He growls, his hips slamming into you harder, his hand moving between your bodies, rubbing ur clit roughly, his free hand sliding up your body to cup your mouth, his fingers pressing into your lips"Suck," he orders, and you eagerly comply, taking two fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, the salty taste of his sweat and the musky smell of his body overwhelming your senses, making your head spin and your pussy tighten around him.

"That's it," he says, his voice low and dangerous, his hand moving back down, kneading ur ass before delivering a hard smack, the sting making you gasp. "Fuck," you cry out, your head dropping back, your eyes squeezing shut, your orgasm washing over you, waves of pleasure crashing down on you, your body trembling with the force of it, your inner walls gripping him, pulsing, milking him. "That's it, baby, cum for me," he groans, his hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into your flesh, his hips stuttering, his own release approaching,

"Fucking shit," he grunts, his hips jerking up, burying himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he spills himself into you, filling you with his seed, the sensation bringing you over the edge once more, making you scream and sob, tears running down your cheeks, your body shaking with the intensity of your release, the camera quick to capture the scene, both of your fucked out face and his cum spilling out of your hole caught in full HD as he pulled away, leaving you on the bed with ur legs spread open, your body still shaking as he tucked his softening cock into his pants and 'leaving'. The director signaled for cut and the whole set sighed in relief, some chuckling at the state you were in and how quick Mark has become a star, they were impressed and couldn't wait to see how far this will go, Jaemin smirked seeing Mark walking towards him, his hair a mess from all the tugging and pulling, his shirt a bit crumpled and his lips slightly red.

"You did a great job " Jaemin smiled,Mark's lips curved into a grin, nodding and thanking him, his eyes drifting back to you as one of the staff helped you clean up. "She's good, isn't she?" Jaemin asked and that snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yeah, she is"

I wasn't planing to write this now but guess i did lmao, it's not the best in terms of quality especially in the smut as i rushed writing it tbh, but i'll add stuff to it when i get out of work, but yeah anyways... M also planing this to be a series so we will see how it's gonna go

#nct #nct dream #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #kpop smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut

[waywardwritesstuff]

HIIII!! How are you?

I was wondering if you could do a platonic rottmnt Donnie x reader one shot?/nf of course! Maybe like some comfort after reader has had a bad day.

I LOVE YOU!! remember to drink water!

-Axel <3

Bad days: ROTTMNT!Donnie X GN!Reader

ROTTMNT!Donnie X GN!Reader

Word count: 1k+

Looking left and right before removing the server grate I climb down the access hatch into a tunnel underneath New York. I pull up the straps on my back so that it doesn't scrape on the walls on my way down. I don't even look where I'm going, I just watch my feet as they splash through the puddles and scuff up some gravel with the heel of my shoe. Not even paying attention to which tunnels I'm turning down, I know where to go, my legs will just carry me.

My mind begins to wander to the events of today. School. Such a useless waste of time, the turtles are lucky they never have to go. They would never get tired or be told they fail because of a letter on a page. They wouldn't have to worry about fitting in or fitting out. They just get to live, even if it is in the shadows.

It's not all bad, I have April at school but she's busy and we don't share any classes. But she has my back when it counts. But...some days are just harder than others, and today seems to be that day.

As I come to the last tunnel I can hear the sounds of the guys, Leo is yelling about some skateboard trick and Raph is yelling back, telling him he'll crack his shell if he's not careful. 'He's such a mum' I think to myself, and it makes me smile.

I enter the lair and am witness to one hell of a stunt gone horribly wrong. I watch as Leo dives down the half-pipe doing a handstand on his skateboard. He makes it to the bottom before his weight tips the skateboard and he goes flying into the other side of the pipe. I cringe watching his head collide with the wood. Raph rushed over to him first and Mikey soon after. As usual, Raph is fussing but Leo says he's fine. Mikey looks stary eyed saying "My go! I want to try that" Raph starts to scold Mikey now and a big commotion starts up.

The noise is becoming too much so I sneak around them and head towards Donnie's room/lab. The door is shut but I can see that the lights are on. I know once, twice and whisper 'Donnie, it's me' and wait. A few seconds later in dramatic fashion the door is swinging open, and the light is flooding the floor at my feet. "Come in compadre," he says, and I step inside.

As usual his lab is a mess and his bed even more so. He has half working tech and circuit boards littered over his desk, he has papers and designs laid out on his bed, some even trailing onto to floor. I stare at the equations and diagrams but none of it makes sense to me. And that reminds me why I'm here in the first place. I'm here to see my friends after one of the crappiest days in school history.

Not knowing where to sit I stay awkwardly standing by the door, hugging my arms to myself. Donnie has already gone back to messing with some of his tech but his head perks up suddenly and he spins in his chair to look at where I'm standing.

"What happened?" He says bluntly.

I deter my eyes away from him.

"Judging by your attitude, your unusual quietness and the stiffness of your posture and the fact that you are still wearing your backpack I would say that you had a bad day at school"

Shrugging I still don't look at him as I say "I guess so"

Out of the corner of my eye I see him tilt his head at me. He begins muttering to himself, something fast under his breath, I only catch a few words 'doesn't want to talk' and 'maybe but I don't know'

I look at him now and he's still in full conversation with himself.

"Donnie?" He looks up at me

"Oh yes, right" he clears his throat.

"It seems you may be in need of a..." He pursues his lips, and he looks like he is trying to chew and swallow his tongue as he says, "a hug?"

I blink at him confused, Donnie doesn't do hugs, Donnie also doesn't really do touch. I don't want him to feel like he has to touch me just because I'm feeling down, does he feel obligated or something? No, he wouldn't, because he hasn't done it in the past.

"No, Donnie seriously it's fine. I'll be fine" I take a small step back and hug my elbows to my chest.

He looks down at the floor and then chews his lip "If you want to I'm offering. You can obviously say no, I know how important personal space is, believe me. But if you need one, then just this once I'm willing to give you one"

I look at him, I can see it's taking him a lot of effort to offer this, and I don't want to make him uncomfortable, but I really need this right now. I take a careful step forwards and then another. I unlatch my arms from around myself and open them in his direction. He does the same, and taking the last step, we wrap our arms around each other, his green ones around my tan ones.

His skin is cool and the scales littering his skin feel different in comparison to mine. It's not a bad difference it's just different.

I can hear his heart beat, slowly thumping against my chest. His breaths are a little shallow but I figured as much. He holds me really delicately, like I'm something precious and it's enough to make me want to cry. I squeeze him tighter one last time and let go.

Looking at him, I smile and say "Thank you Donnie, that meant a lot" he puts a hand on the back of his neck and cuffs

"Oh it was nothing" he smiles back at me. Then returning to his usual self he turns back to his desk and calls me over to take a look at his newest invention.

I hope you enjoyed this, it was a little short I'm sorry but I still hope you liked it. Again sorry it took so long

#writers #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity #writer stuff #ao3 writer #tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #donnie 2021 #othello #donatello #rise donnie #one shot #comfort #x gn reader #donnie x reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

New Guy

A/N: Python's introduction to Ghost!! Note that this OC will eventually be with Ghost.

*****************************************************************

Ghost finished up his workout in the base gym, grabbing a towel and wiping off the sweat on his neck. He waved goodbye to the few soldiers he knew, heading out of the base gym and towards the barracks.

As he walked, he heard whispers of an American joining one of the task forces as their medic. Supposedly it was because the task force needed a medic and there weren't any SAS medics who could be spared.

He huffed at the thought, wishing a silent good luck to the task force that was unlucky enough to have an American medic.

Ghost opened the door to the barracks which were assigned to everyone in the 141. As he entered the barracks, he expected it to be empty since he knew the rest of the 141 were away training or doing paperwork. However, as he stepped inside, it wasn't empty.

There stood a tall, shirtless man who had to be no taller than six-foot-six and had light brown skin that seemed to be covered in tattoos. With his back towards Ghost, he was the process of putting on a shirt, his head covered by a black balaclava, and Ghost could see the full sleeve tattoos of snakes and a large tattoo of a snake spiraling up the man's back. The man was burly, muscular with a thick layer of fat on top of the muscles.

Ghost snapped out of his stupor, remembering who he was and clearing his throat. "You're in the wrong barracks, mate," he said, annoyance lacing his voice as he stared at the irritatingly mouth-watering man. "These barracks are for the Task Force 141."

The man finished putting on his shirt, somehow managing to do so without disturbing his balaclava and mask, before he turned to face Ghost. He had on a black hard-plated mask which had gold etchings of a snake coiling all around the mask.

"No, I'm in the right barracks," the man said, Ghost noting the American accent and the way the man's voice was deep but harsh. "Captain Price showed me where to go."

At that words, it clicked in Ghost's head that this was the American medic he had heard about on his way to the barracks. The task force that got said medic was the 141. Great.

"So you're the medic that has the whole base alight with gossip," Ghost grumbled, stepping closer and eyeing the man. His eyes settled on the man's mask and it ticked him off how much they looked similar. "Why do you wear a mask?"

The man seemed unperturbed by the way Ghost was eyeing him warily, as if he was bored. "For the same reason you probably wears yours. For anonymity," he replied. "Call me Python."

Ghost raised his eyebrow underneath his mask, not that Python could see it. "Python?" He tested the callsign on his tongue before huffing in annoyance. "That's a mouthful."

"Yes, but it's not like I chose the callsign myself." Python lifted up his duffel bag with ease and set it down on the bunk that wasn't being used. He definitely sounded bored. "Any other burning questions?"

"Why do they call you "Python"?" Ghost asked, ignoring how rude Python was being. It wasn't like Ghost was being nice either.

"You going to tell me why they call you "Ghost"?" Python shot back, turning back around to face Ghost and crossing his arms.

Ghost scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms as well. "Don't do that, don't be cagey with me." His irritation was rising steadily. "I'm the mysterious one in this task force."

Python surprisingly laughed, his laughter deep and lacking any actual amusement. He stepped closer, making Ghost step back instinctively. "I guess you're not the only mysterious one here anymore, Ghost." He sucked his teeth. "Deal with it."

Python then turned away from Ghost again, the sharp change of movement making his medical bag clack against his uniform, drawing Ghost's attention to it.

"You have a shitty attitude for a medic," Ghost muttered underneath his breath, glowering at the man in front of him now.

"I didn't think the great and all-powerful Ghost would cower at a little bit of attitude thrown his way." Python taunted, glancing back at Ghost before unzipping his duffel bag to take out something. He then took a big sniff of the air before making a sound of disgust. "You should shower, you stink."

He zipped up the duffel bag again and then moved past Ghost, leaving the barracks to go God knows where. One minute he was there and the next, Ghost was alone, staring at where Python had been.

Ghost blinked once and then twice, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to have Price transfer him," he grumbled to himself before making his way to the communal bathroom.

*****************************************************************

A/N: I didn't know this OC x Canon relationship would be rivals to lovers (I don't think we can classify them as enemies, not even sure if we could classify them as rivals really), but as Python likes to chant in my head, "Stone might be a bigger bitch, but I'm still a bitch!" (I don't know why he likes to chant that in my head.) So um, this is just how Python is, I guess.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost #ghost cod #ghost riley #task force 141 oc #call of duty oc #cod oc #simon ghost riley x male oc #simon riley x male oc #simon ghost x male oc #ghost x male oc #ghost riley x male oc #task force 141 oc: python #call of duty oc: python #cod oc: python #python x simon ghost riely #simon ghost riley x python #python x ghost #ghost x python #call of duty #cod modern warefare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #this is short whoops #:)

[petrssecrethideout]

"Alright everyone we are back! And y'know what, instead of trying to do more of an intro, I'm just gonna leave it to you Dale."

"What? Why?"

"...you're kidding right? It's December second there's no way you're not gonna spend the whole podcast talking about cu-"

"OHHHHH YEAH! I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. Well folks, the cum drum challenge is finally over, and I... well I have some bad news. I didn't fill a whole barrel."

"What?"

"Yeah dude I'm really bummed about it, I feel like i let a whole bunch of people down and--SIKE! I ACTUALLY FILLED TWO!"

"Oh my god, you--"

"Hahaaaaah, I got you there didn't I? You were so worried!, but don't worry y'all, when Dale says he's going to deliver, he fucking DELIVERS!"

"So how the fuck did you manage that?"

"Ok so you know how i said I had to cum 10 times a day to make my goal, well 10 quickly turned into 14, then 23, then 34, and after that I lost count because I got this machine from a friend that jerked me off while I was sleeping, so even after I was cumming 34 times a day there was more after that."

"Jesus Christ dude, that's crazy."

"I know, I was in this constant horny haze, it felt so good, like outside of the podcast all I was doing was lifting, eating and jerkin it! Kind of felt like a vacation honestly."

"How did it affect your gains?"

"Get this: I gained 20 pounds of muscle in a month."

"NO FUCKING WAY!"

"i KNOW RIGHT! And like, I'm fucking huge so every pound at this point is an uphill battle, so, like 20!? its crazy."

"Fuck, man."

"And I'm not the only one either, I got some dms about guys who also took the challenge, and dude holy shit look at this."

"Who is that!?"

"That is.. well I'm not gonna give out full names but Douglas from North Carolina, who was a former bodybuilder, kinda got out of it, tried out the challenge, and gained.... you're not ready for this: 134 pounds in one month."

"That--there's no way that isn't possible."

"I'm telling you dude, I thought it was fake, but he's been posting on Instagram every day and its not only real, but its SO fucking hot. He said something about competing again and, dude PLEASE. I would love to flex on stage with you."

"Ok stop trying to flirt with the fans."

"Hey, we just proved that cumming as much as possible makes me get fucking huge, I think we should let me be as horny as I want now."

"Okay, fine I guess I can't argue with that anymore, but how are you feeling now?"

"My balls hurt."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think its like the lack of stimulation. Honestly I might have to up my rates a bit. Oh, also that reminds me I have a business idea for you. You know how those people did the bathwater thing? Well I was thinking we could maybe sel--"

"No. Absolutely not. That's probably illegal."

"Ok but if it isn't can we do it? I know I'd be able to keep up with demand, and once I add a jerking off schedule to your workout plan you'd definitely be able to help"

"MY WHAT SCHEDULE??"

#ai muscle #muscle fiction #cumcast

[last-starry-sky]

Kate, consider this: making out with a girl to get Simon’s attention. Naturally, he gets possessive and drags you away. Then you get weirdly jealous over how he’s tasting another woman’s lips when he kisses you 🤪

warning - listen, i am painfully heterosexual 💀 but do i enjoy a toxic scenario between two fundamentally broken people enough to get over it? hell yes.

[MDNI - reader/f!oc (I guess? she's written very vaguely so have fun with that) - nothing nsfw, just some drinking and kissing. I wrote it more that Simon becomes jealous, reader doesn't plan it, sorry. maybe some spice if you want a part 2???👀]

You don't understand why he's mad.

He's the one who led you on for weeks. Texting and calling at all hours, which you answered promptly (like a moron), only to be suddenly left unread? You understood he was military, but there was only so much you could swallow.

You'd cared for him too. Stuffed his massive frame and all his stuff into your tiny car when you picked him up from the airport, given him a place in your house to rest and unpack his bags, too, if only for a few days. You expected the newfound closeness to also push him to become, you know, closer to you. But it's like every ounce of your desirability evaporated once you gave permission for him to stay.

Whatever, you think as you get ready to go out after work. He’s not even there. It's his loss really. If he's going to treat you like a hotel, then he can enjoy the lumpy mattress in the spare room alone.

You have all this pent up energy to let off and a whole night to do it.

The cub is nice and busy: filled wall-to-wall with bodies on the dance floor and the bar. It’s dark and hazy, enough to see your drink in front of you, maybe a face if you really tried, but no one is here for that. You’re here to melt into the crowd stuffed into the little brick building, get drunk and maybe have a little anonymous fun.

You’d just managed to squeeze a spot in at the bar, the bartender mixing up your drink quickly in front of you before jetting away. Shame, you think as you spin your ice cube with the pretty fruit skewer. He was cute.

“Hey!” A woman's voice says behind you as she slides into the stool next to you, her hand on your back. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Oh, you think, she’s cute, too. A sparkly gold dress that matches her eye shadow hangs off her frame as she rests her head in her hand. You can tell she’s been dancing her heart out. Sweat beads at her hairline and neck, making her sparkle even more in the dim light.

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning in so she can’t hear you. “Need something to drink? Water?”

She laughs a musical laugh as she catches her breath. “Buying me a drink already? You move fast.”

You nod, a new boldness growing from all the disappointment you’ve been shoving down since Simon set fire to your expectations.

“I have a tab,” you tell her as she pulls her stool close enough to touch your knees. She’s signaling for the bartender before you have the words out of your mouth.

You order another drink each, falling into easy conversation once the music changes from a thumping rave to slow and melodic. You talk about your lives, jobs, the reason you both came out tonight, all while you carefully tiptoe around mentioning the man staying at your house.

“You wanna know why I sat by you?” She says, finishing her second drink.

You shake you head and stir your own drink with the skewer, cherries falling down into the alcohol.

“You looked sad,” she says reaching out to hold your wrist. “Pretty girl like you? Didn’t want you to sit at the bar all night. Wanted to see you smile! Get out there and dance, be happy, you know?”

You feel a blush creep over your cheeks. You look down to where she’s touching you. It’s innocent, but something about her look says she wishes it wasn’t.

Might as well tell her now.

“I . . . I invited this guy to stay with me and he turned out to be a total ass,” you blurt out.

She reaches out immediately with both arms to pull you into a hug.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she says smoothing her hands down your back. Her words are soft and sweet in your ear. “Guys can be so dumb sometimes,” she says pulling away, her hands trailing down your arms to hold your hands. “That’s why I don’t even bother anymore. Wanna dance?”

You nod again, a small smile mirroring hers as she pulls you away from the bar.

Her hand is on your back as she leads you onto the dance floor. The crowd is gathering again now that the music has picked up tempo, but her hands casually draped on your hips tell everyone else to give you space. You like it. She’s warm and energetic, already swaying to the music. You thread your arms over her shoulders nervously. This can’t be any different from dancing with a guy, right?

“Relax,” she says leaning in to your ear. “Not gonna bite.”

You nod back. She pulls away until you’re nose to nose.

“First time?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

You nod again. She pulls you into closer, until your hips are flush, breasts pressing deliciously together, your faces only a breath apart. You can feel how wide your eyes are.

“”sokay. Just lean your head on my shoulder. I’ll lead.”

You do as she tells you. Closing your eyes as she rocks both of your bodies to the beat. You enjoy it. A spore of a thought lands in your mind to ruin it, though: what if Simon hadn’t been such a distant prick? Could this have been you and him? Would he have even come out with you?

You feel a vibration in your pocket as she slides her thigh between yours. You whine at the contact, not even registering the next text that comes through for a full minute. You sluggishly pull away, pulling your phone out as you do. You give her a sheepish look as you check your lock screen.

It’s Simon.

You sigh and fall back into her waiting arms. You don’t want to answer him. You have a sinking feeling he's just gotten back to your empty house and now he's trying to crawl back to you, apologizing and begging for a crumb of pussy like before. You don't want that though. You want to stay here, in the arms of someone who gives a damn about you, who makes you feel good.

"Your guy?" she asks, more mirth than disappointment in her voice.

You nod into her shoulder. You pick your head up with another sigh. "I should answer him back," you shout over the crowd.

She flicks her head back, indicating the front door, before leading you through the wall of bodies off the dance floor.

She holds your hand until you walk out into the chill of the night. The crowd of smokers looks back at the both of you before turning back, minding their own. You pull away to look at your phone. Another message from Simon had come through. Before you can unlock your phone to read them, she grabs your hand again.

"Hey, I-" she says snuggling up to you, hands circling your hips again. Her slinky dress can't be keeping her very warm. "I had a great time with you, so, no pressure, but if your guy is still being an ass-" You let her pull you flush to her body, your heart pounding in your chest. "you can come back with me tonight," she whispers before pecking a kiss on your lips.

Neither of you pull away. You do forget about the phone in your hand and the plans you'd made almost immediately. Silently, you press back against her lips, your hand coming up to rest on her neck.

You can taste her lip gloss as you kiss her, nothing but plastic and chemicals, but it makes your head spin. It's almost sweet, how chaste the two of you are. Standing outside of a bar, her shivering and moaning, as you hold one another and share a long goodnight kiss.

Your phone vibrating in your hand knocks you back to reality. This time, you hold it up to your face, and your phone unlocks into your messages automatically.

where are u? gone out? want to talk. outside. give u a ride home.

You hear unmistakable rattle of your car (you've been meaning to get that noise looked at, honest) as it pulls up behind you as you read the last message. A chill rolls down your spine.

trying to make me jealous? get in the car. bring your friend with you.

((OKAY I HAVE TO END THIS NOW BC ITS BEEN ROTTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES BYE))

#mw2 #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #for all my tag following people: I;M SORRY. feel free to yell at me to write a part 2 where they all fuck. #starry writes #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2

[tnt-kokoo]

Favorite

pairing: Sae Itoshi × fem!reader

summary: After winning against another team, the U-20 decided to celebrate their win. Sae was about to leave, as you came onto the stage.

Important: reader is an artist, reader plays guitar and sings, kinda nervous reader I guess??

"I am not going."

And with that, the older Itoshi sibling walked out of the changing rooms while the rest of his team was staring at the now closed door.

The U-20 team had just won and was already planning on walking around the city to find a pub or a restaurant to celebrate, that was, until Sae Itoshi had told them cold heartily how he wouldn't take part in their celebration.

Without wasting any more time to think, Aiku jogged behind the reddish haired boy and eventually caught up to him. The heterochromian boy grabbed his shoulder and pushed him towards his own chest to not give Sae a chance to ran again.

"Oh come on now, we only won because of you. You NEED to come with us." Aiku said as he praised him. The taller boy leans down and wispered with a sly smile "and who knows, maybe you'll find someone interesting?"

____________________________________________

Sae didn't know why but he agreed to go with the others. If he was honest (which he is), he would say that this is a waste of time.

As the team and the coach walked towards a place that seemed to be perfect for them, they all went inside.

The smell of cigarettes from a few and the stinging smell of alcohol made the older Itoshi look at disgusting at the place his team choose. He wanted to leave and somehow even Sendo noticed that, which is why he grabbed the prodigy and led him to the table with the others.

Sae looked around at the table and saw his fellow teammates already drinking themselves to unconsciousness. He disliked places like this. Infact, he hated them. And sure, Sae being Sae he will dislike many things but drinking with people he doesn't wanted to waste his time with gotta top it all.

As the red haired prodigy was thinking of leaving he heared how the announcement said something about someone new coming to stage and giving an performance. Usually he wouldn't even have cared but for some reason he wanted to know what will happen.

'The worst thing that will happen is that I'll be bored by this performance' he thought.

As you appeared on stage with a guitar, the whole atmosphere seemed to change completely. His usual nonchalant demeanor turned into an curious one. He didn't didn't notice how people were cheering for you as you began singing or how the lights were dimmed because to him, you seemed to glow on stage. It looked so natural and you resemble what he could never be- an angel.

He looked back to his teammates who were mumbling about how beautiful you were. And your sure were the prettiest girl Sae had ever seen.

Oh, how much he wished only he could look at you like that. Only him hearing you play and sing. Only him being able to touch you and love you.

As the song finished, people were clapping for you. Now, instead of the calm persona you had before, you were standing up there with a nervous smile and shaking hands that held the guitar.

'Huh.... she looks cute like this' is what the boy thought while seeing you in what he thought was your 'off-stage' persona.

____________________________________________

"You're Y/n, right? I enjoyed your performance."

Turning around to face the one who talked to you, he seemed familiar but the dim lights shone brightly against the back of his head which made it harder to decifer his features.

"Yea, and you are...?" You looked kind of relaxed but still wary of this guy.

"Sae"

"I see, it was nice meeting you Sae." you smiled.

"Can I get your number by any chance?"

Oh?

"Why not?" You let out a small laugh.

____________________________________________

AN: I AM SO SORRY THERE HAVEN'T BEEN ANY STORIES LATELY 😭😭 tmmr is my first final exam and I am trying to get a good grade (it's german 😣)

ANYWAY i still don't know whether to choose Prosa or to choose Erörterung but ik for sure, I won't choose lyrik 💀

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #reader x sae itoshi #u-20 sae itoshi #bllk x female reader #x female reader

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 9

•

Pomni was finally setting out on her first adventure with Gummigoo, Max and Chad. It was a big day!!

She sat atop her horse, Jingles with a small belt around her waist to support her pistol which was in its holster. Gummigoo was beside her, fussing over his horse Tang. The pair were waiting for Max and Chad to get their steeds ready. Max’s was named Sour and Chad’s was named Horse. Very fitting.

“Sooo.” Began Pomni, sheepishly. “What exactly are we doing on today’s ride?”

“We’re gonna be scouting for resources and citizens if all goes well Poms.” Hummed Gummigoo, giving Tang some affectionate pats from where he sat in his saddle.

“R-Right, I remember now-“ She nodded with a hum. “That’s why me and you have saddle bags, mhm? And why Max and Chad don’t?”

“You’d be correct, we never know what you’ll find out there in terms of resources. We learned the hard way back along when we found our first bunch of citizens and Chad had to leave his saddlebag at the location. Unfortunately, loosing said bag in the process. Usually it’d be just me with the bags, but now that you’re joining we’ll get twice as many supplies!”

Pomni nodded at this again with a smile.

“Y’know… The more I talk to you guys the less you seem like Bandits-“

“Huh, I guess you’re right there.” Mused Gummigoo. “It’s just what people have always called us.”

“How about, we just refer to our little four as… The Scouting Saviours? Cus you know- We go out for supplies, sometimes we come back with people too- So, The Scouting Saviours!”

“The Scouting Saviours, huh~? I like how you think Pommy! We’ll have to engrave it on our bags or something-“

Pomni snickered at this, rolling her eyes softly.

“I don’t know about that-“

“Nope, it’s happening. You’ll see!”

“Uh huh-“

Max and Chad were soon ready and the four headed out!

Pomni found it refreshing to be up so high and going so fast! Her new body from the circus had her feeling kind of small… In the sense that she was feeling a lot shorter and smaller now- But also in the sense that she felt helpless- But look at her now! She was out on a horse wielding a gun with her three buddies! They were helping people! Going on adventures!

Everything you’d want to see from a digital world! If you asked her-

Eventually Gummigoo, waved her to slow down, the four arriving at what looked to be an old run down orchard. It wasn’t far from the Candy Kingdom, so Pomni had to guess it was where a large portion of the kingdoms food came from.

“Alright lads, Pommy, you know what to do.” Grinned Gummigoo, chucking a saddle bag to Max and Chad. “Fill up on food and anything else that might be useful.”

“You got it boss!”

“Off we go!”

The two scrambled off to fill up on supplies.

“And we’ll cover over here, that alright with you Pommy?” Hummed Gummigoo, gesturing to a green house like building.

“Sounds good to me! Let’s get finding!”

It was a successful trip! Everyone had found a large collection of resources which were easily taken back home to be used by Ma and the Candy Kingdom Survivors. Max had only pierced himself a few times when picking the fruits, which luckily could be fixed with a smear of syrup! Apparently, syrup was the main medicine for the candy based creatures.

On the journey back Gummigoo explained how their skin was made from gelatine and that it only really got torn or pierced in most cases of injury. Which meant in most cases, maple syrup and the odd bandage or two would be used to patch up the injury and hold it together to heal. It was certainly an interesting mechanic! Pomni was curious to if it would work on her. She knew she couldn’t get hurt in the circus, but since she’d been here so long, that may change-

She’d just have to wait and see-

•

Ragatha, Gangle, Kinger and Zooble were interrupted in their little happy get together. By one of Caine’s adventure portals dropping Jax right into the centre of it.

“Ughh.. Something is definitely wrong with Caine.” Grumbled Jax, rolling onto his back.

“JAX!- What happened?” Spoke Kinger, making everyone jump with his initial yell.

“I don’t know- He sent me on a solo adventure- It was [————-] awful. I can’t count on my two hands how many times the adventure restarted because I almost died-“

“That’s no good.” Frowned Zooble.

“Y-You sound exhausted Jax, you should lie down.” Spoke Gangle, shying into Zooble’s side.

“For once ribbons, I agree with you.” Muttered Jax, dragging himself over to a bean bag near the group.

“J-Just shout if you need us!” Hummed Ragatha, anxiety clearly back on her mind. WAS POMNI OKAY???

“Take a deep breath Ragatha, I’m sure Pomni is fine.” Spoke Kinger, in another moment of clarity. He put his hands around her side, pulling her to rest her head on his shoulder. He hoped the gesture would make her sleepy enough to go to sleep. A break from the worry. Another building block between her and falling into insanity. From her and abstraction.

Gangle looked to Zooble with worry, slowly shuffling closer to sit by her and continue with her doodles. The almighty Jax knocked off his feet by one solo adventure courtesy of Caine. A Caine who definitely didn’t seem sound of mind at the slightest. Gangle really hoped Pomni would be okay- Maybe she’d ask Jax what kind of adventure Caine sent him on- And why it was so bad- Hopefully… he wouldn’t be a [——] about her trying to care.. Although… Zooble had been super helpful in talking to her about how to deal with Jax’s general sass and sense of human. Aka being a giant [——-]. So, hopefully it’d be easier to talk to him!

That’s why Gangle liked Zooble so much- She was helpful and fun to talk with!! All in all, she was just the best~

Wait a minute it kinda sounded like she was starting have feelings for-

Oh no-

Part 10

#fanfiction #caine’s lesson #gummigoo #gummigoo x pomni #pomni my beloved #pomni x gummigoo #tadc #tadc au #tadc caine #tadc fanfiction #tadc gummigoo #tadc kinger #tadc gangle #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc zooble #tdac caine #tdac ragatha #tdac jax #tdac pomni #tdac #tdac gummigoo #tdac gangle #tdac kinger #tdac spoilers #the amazing digital circus gummigoo #the amazing digital circus pomni #the amazing digital circus #pomni

[woahajimes]

why am i crying outside the donut shop

#1. there used to be only one guy in charge of the mini donut place and it was the best fucking place like the donuts were delicious and #so aesthetic and round and poofy and that man had an art degree bc. (ykwim) #like i used to go to the place and just chat with him bc he was the only one and he'd give me extra donuts and he was just so nice #something happened to him and he doesnt work there but now there's a new guy and i went and he was very quiet and younger (still late 30s) #so now he's like the only new guy there i guess #the donuts were terrible #they were like shrively(?) and poorly decorated but it was near close and i could tell he had a bad day and idk they were terrible but the #taste was fine and he seemed genuinely sad and the previous customer got mad at him and he was so tired and why am i crying #2. also today at my own work a lady tried to steal and she tried to walk away with the cart but i like caught up to her bc i was interactin #w/ her before and she's like 'im gonna spray you'' and when i dont back away she says "im gonna call my brother to come r*pe you'' #like uh #and then my coworker intervened but from far and it was a little scary i was def paranoid.