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ooffmlsorry · 7 months

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OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #ace x reader #sabo x reader

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threadbaresweater · 2 months

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one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan x reader

Arthur doesn't think you're interested in him any more than you're interested in fishing, which ain't much. You hope he shares even an inkling of the feelings you have for him. It's no surprise to anyone else in camp that there's something between the two of you, and they make sure you get a chance to show each other how you really feel.

The details: 3.9k words. Female reader with a backstory that isn't really elaborated upon in this fic but might be at a later date if I have the spoons; several gang members act as side-characters/wingmen (and women); alcohol and cigarette use; sex (pretty vanilla, but a little rough and intense). NSFW. This is also my first fic for a new fandom, so please be gentle with me. It's been a while.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grab at each other like it's the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you want more than what the other of you is able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader

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miguelhugger2099 · 4 months

Text

Love ain't a Science!

Summary: Miguel takes notes on your dates. You just want him present with you. Miguel x Reader, Fluff, Drabble.

Liking Miguel wasn’t easy. Well, it was, it’s just he made it hard for himself. You sat across from him in a diner, milkshake in front of you while you sipped from the straw and stared down at Miguel while he scribbled in his notebook. His glasses slipped down his nose and he scrunched his face up to lift it back. His eyebrows were furrowed as he mumbled to himself and left his own milkshake unattended. You sipped loudly from your cup with a deadpan expression, hoping to get Miguel’s attention but he was still in his own world. You began to think about the last ‘date’ you went on with Miguel. It went very similar to this. Both of you went to the same diner as today, a step up from last time when he couldn’t decide where to go, but you had picked a different milkshake from today. He recommended one from the menu and you smiled happily and accepted it. Miguel seemed pleased at your response, gaining a bit of confidence and standing straighter next to you as you ordered and he paid. Only when you got to your seats, the booth at the corner of the wall next to the window, he pulled out his notebook from his backpack. He began scribbling like he is now, just a little less tense. He asked you questions about yourself and even asked what you liked and didn’t like–if the milkshake was good. You responded to all of them happily, beaming he seemed much more interested. Until today, where you went to the same diner and instead of ordering the milkshake Miguel recommended, you ordered a different flavor and paid for yourself. He snapped his head down towards you, baffled and not realizing you had paid while he was slack jawed. When you go to your familiar seats, Miguel pulls out that damned notebook and looks up at you from his glasses, an unsure look on his face. “Did you not like the one from last time?” He asked softly. You blink and look at your strawberry milkshake. You had chocolate previously. “I did,” You nodded. “I just thought about trying something different today and to pay on my own as thanks for last time.” You smiled at him and took your first sip from the drink.

Miguel let out a sigh as he looked at you, still unsure. He opens his notebook and begins scribbling in it. Has been for the last twenty minutes. His milkshake had gone lukewarm, whipped cream slipping down the glass and cherry nearly toppling over. Your sipping became loud and obnoxious as you finished the drink, chewing on the plastic straw in mild annoyance. Deciding you had enough, you slid the empty glass to the side and snatched his notebook from his hands. Miguel gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a frightened gaze and tried reaching for his notebook across the table but you held it up and away from him with a frown on your lips. “Just what is in this notebook that you bring it and ignore me every time we hang out?” You tsked and flipped open the notebook, Miguel letting out a strangled yelp when you did so. Miguel was rendered helpless, his cheeks growing warm since he was unable to be rough with you and fight for it back so, he let you skim through it.

Inside his notebook were various pages filled to the brim with messy writing about your past dates with him. All ranging from the very beginning, crossing out places you may or may not have liked so he could pick the best option to writing down your favorite foods to find the best meal he could give you. You saw your answers to his questions scribbled on the next page, crossing out ideas that didn’t fit what you liked. Other random spots were drawings of your face done completely out of angles, figuring out each angle and curve of your features to its perfection. His recent page was even more scribbled on why his ‘hypothesis’ of you liking chocolate milkshakes didn’t work this time. Your frown broke into a smile, flattering blooming in your chest. You started laughing which prompted Miguel to sink in his seat, place his elbows on the table and cover his blushing face with his hands. “Are you seriously using science on our dates?” You asked between laughter. Miguel grumbles, his face growing hotter by the second. “I’m not one of your experiments, Miggy.” You close the notebook and tap it on his head that made him peek through his fingers. You smiled reassuringly at him with a few giggles escaping you. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, dropping his hands to reveal the dark red on his cheeks. You shook your head. “I’ll allow it this time, but I’m keeping this,” You waved the notebook before setting it down next to you. Miguel restrains himself from reaching out to take it back. “Just stay with me. Here. You won’t figure me out by studying me. I like you, You like me–let’s not make this complicated.” You explained and set your hands on the table. He sets his own hands on the table, awkwardly looking at the marbled surface. He glances at his melted and warm milkshake and looks at you. You give an encouraging nod to him. Miguel takes his glass and brings the straw to his mouth, a sheepish grin on his lips as he looks at you. You don’t break eye contact as he takes his first sip and laughed when the taste registers in his mouth and he gags, coughing and desperately trying to swallow it down. “How was it?” You laugh. He sputters a bit, his voice a little hoarse.

“Really, really stale.” He coughs and you keep laughing. He looks at how much brighter you seemed now and his heart skips a beat. Miguel pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and smiles softly while your laughing died down to giggles. This was much easier than using science.

A/N: *grips shy nerd miguel in my grasp so hard his eyes bug out of his sockets* quieres?

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #Spotify

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0cta9on · 2 months

Note

Nayeon fucking her hot manager in front of some trainees to make them know that they'll be fucktoys for their future managers

Sorry for taking so long, here u go!

Three pairs of eyes stare at you, nervous yet eager and willing to learn. You weren’t exactly sure why Nayeon asked you to show up at the dance room, but judging by the sly look she gave you upon entering, you figured it would be worth your while.

“Ladies, this is Twice’s manager, he makes sure that all of us are focused on the schedules for today and takes very good care of us,” Nayeon says, introducing you to the three girls that sat in front of you. “Oppa, these are Lily, Haewon, and Sullyoon. They’re gonna be debuting soon and I thought I would show them how to properly treat their managers.” So that’s why she dragged you here. Your cock immediately gets hard at Nayeon’s mischievous bunny smile, but you try not to let it show. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.

You exchange kind greetings with the girls, not wanting them to be intimidated by the show you’re about to put on. “Being a manager is a lot of hard work, especially when he has to watch over all nine of us at the same time. That’s why we like to give him a little treat every once in a while, to show him how much we appreciate him,” she explains before rubbing your boner through your sweatpants, a lustful groan escaping your lips. The girls’ eyes go wide with shock, their bodies frozen from this sudden development. So cute, so innocent. Your breath quickens at the thought of breaking everything they thought they knew about becoming an idol.

“Don’t be afraid girls, first times are always scary, but it’s a lot of fun if you just embrace it,” Nayeon giggles before kneeling in front of you, eyeing your dickprint with excitement. Slowly, she tugs at the hem of your sweatpants until your large cock pops out, nearly slapping her in the face. “Isn’t he so big and thick, girls?”

Before you even have a chance to blink, your cock disappears into her gaping mouth, drawing gasps from the trainees. It’s no surprise that Nayeon is the main vocalist with how well she can use her throat. Her bunny teeth slightly graze against your length, a sensation none of the other Twice members could reproduce, while her tongue expertly works on your head with each buck of your hips.

Despite the incredible feeling of getting your dick sucked, your focus is mainly on the reactions of the girls. A wall of disgust and apprehension is still up, but you can see cracks start to form. The squirming of legs, the biting of their lips, their hands trailing down their bodies. It’s only a matter of moments before they succumb to the idea of becoming personal sluts for their manager.

The sound of Nayeon gagging on your member is always music to your ears, but you want more. You want to watch these girls break right in front of you. Grabbing Nayeon’s hair, you pull her off your cock and throw her to the floor so her plump ass is sticking towards you. Despite her cry of pain, Nayeon’s lips are curled into an excited smile as she looks back at you, your fingers hooked around the waistband of her pants.

“Now ladies, your manager might like it- Ah!” She squeals as you slap her bare ass, covered in nothing but a thong, thoroughly soaked in her arousal. “Your manager might like it rough, so it’s always important to be ready for- SHIT!” Her sentence gets cut short again as you impale her with your cock, pumping into her pussy at breakneck speeds. The sound of slapping skin and cries of pleasure echo throughout the room, filling the girls’ ears with a chorus of sinful acts.

You watch in delight as the girls start to get restless, their chests rising and falling as their breaths get heavier and heavier. None of them dare to break first, but it’s obvious that they want to touch themselves so badly. They just need a little encouragement.

“It’s okay, girls,” you say, panting with fervor. “You can touch yourselves.”

Haewon is the first to break. Almost immediately as the words leave your mouth, her hand shoots into her pants, digging her digits into her wet pussy. Sullyoon follows soon after, massaging her breasts with her free hand. Lily struggles to hold on, but eventually falls victim to her desires at the sight of her fellow trainees fingering themselves combined with her senior getting pounded into oblivion.

The sounds of their cute little moans mixed with Nayeon’s drives you to the brink of orgasm. Nayeon, sensing this, pushes her ass into you, meeting your hips with each thrust.

“Oh my god oppa, I’m about to cum! Fucking cum inside me while they watch!” She screams. You sink your hands into Nayeon’s ass, holding on for support as you feel the pressure build in your loins. As you gaze at the trainees, their bodies melting with passion, you and Nayeon’s orgasm melds together, your juices swirling deep inside her pussy. After nearly a decade of managing and fucking each member of Twice, this is the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

The both of you collapse breathlessly onto the linoleum floor of the dance room. The girls seem to have reached their own happy little ending as you glance at their weary bodies, barely clinging onto the chairs anymore. Nayeon giggles watching them, her fingers playing with the mixture of your cum leaking out her pussy.

“Oh, sweet girls, the fun isn’t over yet,” she comments, her smile widening with glee. “Now, who wants to lick the cum out of my pussy first?”

#twice #im nayeon #twice nayeon #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #nayeon x male reader #nayeon x male oc #twice nayeon x male reader #twice nayeon x male oc #smut #nayeon smut #twice nayeon smut

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moonstruckme · 9 months

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hellooooooo, could you please make (when you have the time) something where James Potter has a girlfriend that its sooo touch starved but also has a hard time being touched/hugged (for some reason kissing doesn't bother her but she gets really shy with that) an she is unable to receive compliments, she tries to express her love in other ways tho

i'm that type of person so i would love to see something like that:(

Ugh same baby! Thanks for requesting :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You and James are on opposite sides of the couch, and you feel like you’re going to combust.

The issue is his foot. You’re covered by a blanket, but James’ foot is brushing your calf through the fabric, moving back and forth so slowly you wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. And it’s not not nice, but even that tiny bit of contact (again, through a blanket) is almost too much for you. Every nerve in your body is at attention—you don’t think James could breathe in your direction without you noticing it—and you want him to cover your entire body with his even if it’ll probably kill you.

“You doing alright over there, lovely?” James asks, eyes still on the TV. He must be paying more attention than you realize.

And one of the difficult parts of your relationship with James is that there are some parts of you he simply cannot understand, but that won’t stop him from trying. Like, James is a naturally tactile person. He wants to hug and kiss and love on you all day long, as he made abundantly clear from your very first date. But you’re not. You want to be, you want to let him give you all the affection he has to offer and return it with twice the zeal, but no one touched you like this before him. Your family weren’t the physically affectionate type, and your friends didn’t bother with it around you, so James’ particular brand of overly touchy loving was…new. You crave it and yet when he gives it to you it feels foreign and borderline uncomfortable. You’d done your best to explain it to him, and James had taken it all in stride, though you could tell there was some mixture of pity and bafflement at your odd love/hate relationship with physical closeness. Now, he does his best to give you that particular form of affection in small doses. He checks with you before putting his hands on you, hugs you just until your blush gives you away, and restricts his casual contact with you to chaste areas. Like his foot and your calf.

“Mhm,” you reply, unsure how to explain the effect he’s having on you and unwilling to say anything that’ll make him stop.

Narrowed brown eyes move from the TV screen to your face. “Promise?”

“I’m okay.”

“Something’s bothering you, though.”

You hesitate. You don’t want to lie to him, it’s just that it’s more complicated than that. “Not really.”

“And you’re not really avoiding the question, right?” James grins at you, though it’s tinged with worry. “C’mon, angel, be straight with me. Something’s on your mind, yeah?”

You’re silent, but an involuntary glance downwards gives you away. James’ foot is drawn back towards him in an instant. “Ah, that was too much, huh? My bad.”

“No, James, I—” you sigh heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, lovely girl,” he says it easily, but not without gravity. “I’m the one who didn’t check if it was okay.”

“But you shouldn’t have to check.” You’re shaking your head, drawing your legs into your chest, shrinking from him even in your frustration that you shrink from him. “I don’t want you to feel bad about touching me, James. It’s not like it scares me or anything, I don’t know why I’m so weird about it.”

“Hey.” His voice is lightly chiding, remonstrance gentled. He’s not touching you, but he’s doing his next best thing, turning his body to face you so you’ll know you have his full attention. “I know, you’ve told me how you feel about it. I don’t take it personally, sweetheart, I just want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to be scared to not be having a good time.”

You let the quiet noise of the TV fill the silence for a moment, looking at him. He’s smiling just a tiny bit, even now. He told you once that he can’t help being some degree of happy when he’s with you, no matter what’s happening around him. His eyes are big and brown and open behind his glasses, eyes that haven’t learned to dull themselves for the sake of self-preservation, but there’s a slight pinch around the corners. He’s evaluating you, trying to figure out where your mind is going and how to meet it there.

“I think my problem,” you say, trying the weight of each word before voicing it, “is that I want you to be able to show…affection, whatever way is natural to you.” A crease appears on James’ forehead and you can see the rebuttal forming on his tongue, but he lets you say your piece. “And it makes me feel bad that I’m stopping you from doing that, and that I can’t show it back to you either.”

The crease deepens. James has an easier time choosing his words than you did. “I don’t mind not being able to touch you. I mean, would I have my hands all over you day and night if you wanted it?” He flashes a flirty smile. “Obviously. But I care about you, not that, and you aren’t as used to that stuff. The idea of touching you is as unappealing to me as I imagine it is to you, because you’d be uncomfortable the whole time. What kind of boyfriend would I be then, huh?” He sticks out a foot to nudge your knee gently. “Anyway, I don’t need you to be all over me to know you care. You think I thought the muffins I ate this morning made themselves?” He raises his eyebrows at you, nodding for you to answer.

Your face warms. “No.”

James nods encouragingly. “As I suspected. And that was some of the best love I’ve ever tasted! Plus, those little notes you write when you’re going to be home late or you know I have a busy day? Angel,” he says, voice dropping into soft earnestness, “those make my entire week.”

You bite your lip, but you’re powerless to stop the spread of your smile. “I’m glad you like them,” you reply bashfully.

“Like them?” James throws up his arms, indignant. “Sweetheart, I can feel the love coming off those things like you’ve drowned them in amortentia. Don’t get me wrong, I love hugging you, but that?” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing better.”

You imagine your complexion is approaching fire-hydrant red about now, but you’re so happy to hardly care. “Thanks, Jamie.”

“Thank you, angel,” he says, and you can tell he’s smothering his grin intentionally to make you take him seriously. “I mean it, I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my best girl, understand?”

You can’t look at him for embarrassment, but you nod. After a moment, James’ silence draws your eyes back to him, to find him grinning. The sight is familiar, as is the warm, fuzzy sensation that spreads through your insides. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing you.

“Do you feel like a hug, lovely girl?”

You nod again as you go to him, abandoning your blanket. James’ arms open, his legs parting automatically to slot you between them. One hand finds your mid-back while the other cradles the nape of your neck, and you press both of yours to his shoulder blades, drawing him downwards and into you. He makes the most of it, fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt. You can feel his heartbeat a few inches to the right of yours.

A tiny shiver of pleasure goes through you, and you tighten your grip on him so he won’t let go, but James understands, and pulls you closer.

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galacticsuperstitions · 2 months

Text

the minds of a lab at three different points (LONG rambling under the cut)

I am constantly in awe of the analyses people put out about Arknights on this website. I feel like my own interpretations are somewhat lacking as a result, but I was confident enough to post this, at least. I've had this idea for a long time now, I think since Lone Trail released, but I've only been able to make the time for it now.

Rhine Lab has so many fucked up elements and people involved in it that it's actually impressive. They were really gunning for "most unethical scientific consortium" reward. Really, though, it's just the result of Kristen gunning for her parents' wishes. All of the directors want something and all of those somethings are different.

Things I want to mention or just feel proud of (allowing myself this because of how long this took):

-I was originally planning on crossing out Saria's surname to reflect that we still don't know what it is in canon, but I don't know why whoever has this poster would do that, so I just kept it in. Hermon refers to Mount Hermon, which Saria's name apparently derives from. Technically, her name here is the same thing twice. Oh well.

-I don't know who this poster belongs to. It's just in some Rhine Lab tech's personal desk, I guess? Doesn't explain the doodles, though. Maybe they were bored and feeling spiteful about the potential job insecurity of your boss being comatose in space.

-I realized only while making this post that I made Saria's, Muelsyse's, and Jara's doodles reference Kristen, yet Kristen's only references herself and her parents. Completely unintentional, but appropriate nonetheless.

-I am so happy with how the poster came out. It makes up for how hard I had to fight Canva for it to come out like that. Here it is in full if you want to look at it closely for whatever reason. (writing an actual description for this thing was fun!)

-Andenate doesn't actually have a face under the sticky note. That's why he's still Mike Wazowski'd in the poster png. I didn't feel like drawing one since it wouldn't be shown in the finished pieces anyway. His jacket is just the same as Magallan's.

-Ifrit's picture board was a literal last-minute addition. It's why the images are sketches rather than being in the lineless style of the poster. It feels fitting, though, so I'm keeping it that way. Seeing Ifrit all grown up and doing so well in Lone Trail was wonderful. There's something in her being happy and healthy and also surrounded by not just her loved ones and friends from Rhine Lab, but also people outside of it. She's cultivated her life to be as fulfilling as she wants it to be, and while there is still room to grow, she has plenty of support and insight from others for it to do so. I may be misrepresenting her a bit (the sleepiness doesn't help), but man. I love Ifrit. She's so cool.

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creativesaturn · 3 months

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hey!! i absolutely love your writing style, and i have notifications specifically on so i don’t miss when you post :) i had an idea that literally just came to me but i don’t really have any plot to go with it 😭

so basically, any cm character (maybe hotch, emily or spence?) walking in on the reader drawing said character & the reader gets really embarrassed and tries to put it away, but the character actually really likes the drawing and asks to keep it and just something wholesome idk 😭🫶

absolutely don’t feel pressured to write this, just had an idea and thought i’d share <3

Summary: Hotch finds out about your drawing hobby.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 515

a/n: sorry this took so long to post! I wanted to scrap it and redo it but I decided not to. That's really sweet of you thank you so much!!! hope you enjoy 💞💞

Aaron knocked on your hotel door, not once, but twice.

You were too busy listening to music that filled your sense of hearing, and completely focusing on the pencil in your hand.

For the past few days you've been struggling to find something to draw. It was one of your hobbies that you genuinely enjoyed, but it was always hard finding motivation.

But today, on the jet. You burned the image of Aaron sitting by the window during the sunset, just so you could draw it later. It was a sight for sore eyes. You didn't care if he could notice you staring, you needed to keep every detail engraved in your mind.

So--as soon as you step foot in your hotel room, you knew exactly what you were going to do.

"y/n?" Aaron's voice startling you as he stood inches behind you.

You quickly turned around, looking up at the tall man. You pulled your headphones out your ears; mouth agape unsure what to say.

He glances behind you to see what had your attention, his face had an expression you couldn't quite make out. So, you thought of the worst.

You quickly turned back, taking the piece of paper to turn over and hide.

"Is that me?" He asked, voice soft as he spoke.

"Uhm--Yeah.. Yeah, it-it is.." You stumbled over your own words, "It's totally stupid though, 's not even done yet." You mumbled, your voice so low he was unsure if he heard you.

"It's not stupid," He retorted, reaching for the paper. You quickly pulled back, watching his eyes as they widened.

"Let me see."

"No.."

"Please?"

You looked down at your hands, sighing as you slowly handed him the paper. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in his expression.

"You're very good with details," He complimented you. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asked sincerely, looking up from the drawing to look at your face.

"Just something I learned over the years," You shrugged. "I get bored a lot." You looked up at him, profiling his reaction.

He had a soft smile, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed and you swore his eyes glistened.

"Can I keep it?" Aaron asked.

"You--You want to keep it?" You asked, shocked at the question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, bringing the page down to his side to show he had his attention on you.

"Because.. I don't know..." You shrugged, unable to hide the smile that he gave you.

"The team is waiting for us, by the way." Aaron laughed, seeing the bright pink that danced across your face.

"Okay." You nodded, making your exit out of the hotel.

Not many people knew you drew, at least well. When you'd tell people they expect stick figures and doodles you'd find on the side of a middle schoolers test. And every time they'd notice, it was always the same expression. It never failed to bring you joy and validation from others compliments.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

#creativesaturn #syd's aaron fics #criminal minds #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds smut #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for ditching adults to hang out with children?

Pretty much what the title says. I (26F) enjoy the company of children more than adults. I find it hard to talk to adults. I'm always not talkative in their company. That's why, I only managed to keep only 2 of my friends that I grew up with, I feel as if people grow up and leaving me behind, and relate more to children. The only friendship I had at work quickly fell apart for many reasons, but the person being older than me and me not knowing how to talk to her was a big factor.

In family reunions that we have twice weekly, I tend to prefer running around and playing hide and seek with children and toddlers, or talking about their day, their favorite colors, making silly faces at babies, teaching kids how to write and draw etc etc. I'm able to pass this off as "babysitting" because "I love children but have none of my own", so no one found it weird yet and they can have time without having to keep an eye on their children, even in parties and weddings, I grab the nearest baby relative so no one will talk to me and potential suitors would assume I'm married, but the truth, I just find the things children talk about more interesting than adults and they understand me better. They are easier to talk to. I have better relationships with the younger relatives aged 0-16 but the more they grow up I start talking to them less and less. The cousins that are around my age and used to be my best friends growing up are now very distant to me because I don't know how to talk to them anymore, and I get along with their kids instead. They do often comment on this part though. "Why don't you talk with us" and stuff like that.

Specially oneday, my cousin (13F) had her friends over in the same time as we were gathered in their house. I went in her room to say hi and intended to leave immediately, but I saw they were playing a fun card game and ended up joining them. We were talking and laughing a lot for a while, until they asked me what grade I was in. My cousin laughed and told them, "she has a full time job!" And all of them were shocked but asked about my job and stuff. Thank God they weren't uncomfortable with it or anything, but my sister (33F) saw me and gave me a weird look that prompted me to leave. She exasperatedly asked my why was I doing that, since it was clear what I was doing doesn't count as babysitting.

I do think it's a non issue for adults to be friends with minors, however I question myself because 1. I'm sorta lying about the babysitting thing 2. I'm mainly friends with minors. I keep reading about how that's a red flag if an adult only interacts which children and I keep feeling like an AH for it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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whoistartaglia · 1 year

Text

you avoid your crush.

how do you deal with an unwanted but undeniable crush? you avoid them: save the friendship, mourn the relationship. or, so you thought.

including: cyno, the wanderer.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight angst, mostly fluff.

cyno.

when you realized you’ve developed feelings for cyno, your best friend, you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t tell him and ruin the friendship. that would be a disaster, and break your heart twice over: once, to lose cyno as a friend, and again, to lose him as anything more. so you resigned yourself to only have your heart broken once: you would avoid cyno until your feelings disappeared, and keep your friendship with him intact.

so that’s exactly what you do. everything was going fine, too—until today, when cyno cornered you in a small alcove at the akademiya.

“oh, cyno…! funny seeing you here…”

“is it, though?” he asks. “i do work here. we both work here, actually. wouldn’t it be stranger not to see me?”

yes, it is, but cuno doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues: “so isn’t it quite strange that i haven’t seen you in what? a week or two now?”

“yes… i guess.”

cyno waits for more, but you give him nothing else. you fidget under the weight of his stare. he’s observing you and you get the feeling like you’re an experiment gone wrong, a conclusion miscalculated.

“al-righ-t,” cyno finally says, drawing out each syllable. he hesitates for a second before his face hardens and he says, “if you want to avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist, then you can avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist. i can’t stop you, even if i hate it. but i would have at least wanted an answer as to why.”

cyno steps aside then, as if to tell you the conversation is gone, you’re free to go. but you don’t move, can’t move. you can’t even think as cyno steps away, only his words ringing in your ears: i would have at least wanted an answer as to why. you owed him that much, at least.

“wait, cyno—“ you take in a deep breath, and the words tumble out all at once. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for avoiding you i— i really thought it was the best since i like you and you don’t like me, and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but it just ended up hurting the both of us and it was a really stupid, but i didn’t know what else to do and… i’m really sorry.”

you look up when cyno doesn’t say anything. he’s still studying you, maybe even more intensely than before.

“yes.” he finally says.

“what?”

“it was really stupid.”

your face burns in embarrassment. cyno continues, “not just your plan—but that you thought we couldn’t be friends if i didn’t feel the same way back.”

“i know i just—“ you abruptly cut off, repeating what cyno just said in your head. “you feel… the same way back?”

“yes. i’d tell you it was stupid not to realize i also like you… but until now, i didn’t know you felt the same.”

“oh.” and then again, because you don’t know what else to say, “i’m sorry.”

cyno allows a faint smile to grace his lips. “i’ll forgive you this time, [name]. honestly, i’m just relieved you don’t hate me.”

“i could never hate you,” you say immediately.

“it didn’t feel like that this week. or last.” you look down again, disappointed that you allowed yourself to make cyno feel that way. he continues, a little gentler: “you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“how?” you ask, already knowing you would do anything.

“how about you let me take you on a date? granted that’s something you probably want but there, you can tell me everything.”

you wouldn’t say no on any circumstance, but especially not when cyno’s finally smiling at you again. your relationship was off to a more than rocky start, but you find yourself hoping you can turn it around for the better.

the wanderer.

it was hard to avoid the wanderer as you were adventuring over teyvat together, just the two of you. when you first realized your feelings for him, and decided they would only prematurely end your expedition when he didn’t feel the same back, you swore to keep them a secret. to do that, you would need to distance yourself from him, but that proved rather difficult and… well, extremely obvious.

you stare into the flames of your small campfire. you sit opposite of the wanderer, though on previous cold nights like these, you probably would have been right next to him. similarly, you both would have trading stories and reminiscing about past adventures, not blanketed in this silence.

it’s clues like those, coupled with the equally obvious signs that you were had feelings for him, that let the wanderer discover your plan.

the wanderer leans back, resting on his elbows. the sun was setting, and already the stars would come out. on clear nights like these, you would spend hours—maybe the whole night—pointing out the different constellations.

looking at you now, eyes boring in the fire, the wanderer knows that’s not going to happen tonight. at least, not if he doesn’t do something about it.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he starts. you glance up sharply at him.

“yeah, i guess,” you mumble, looking back down.

“why?”

you trace circles in the dirt. “i’m just… tired. i guess. yeah, i might just go to bed early—“

“have you ever heard of,” the wanderer cuts you off, “the phrase, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder?’”

you pause. he can’t possibly know… can he?

“i’ve know of it,” you reply tightly.

“so then you also know that you’re little idea of ignoring me in hopes that your feelings go away was doomed from the start, right?”

startled, you look back up again, and meet the wanderer’s gaze. you meet the wanderer’s gaze, and like all the times before, you know there’s no use in lying to him. not when he already suspects the truth. “i… yes.”

“and i assume you didn’t want me knowing because you didn’t think i liked you back?”

your silence is answer enough.

“well, you’re right.”

what.

what?

but then the wanderer cracks a smile, and he’s beside himself laughing: “oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“you’re the worst.” but now there’s a smile on your face, and you’re also laughing: at him, at your plan, at how despite your fears, the wanderer likes you back.

it makes you feel giddy, like you could spend the entire night laughing under the stars—and looking at the wanderer, now coming to sit next to you, you feel like you just might.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact the wanderer #scaramouche x reader #the wanderer x reader #scaramouche headcanons #genshin impact scaramouche headcanons #the wanderer headcanons #genshin impact the wanderer headcanons #cyno x reader #genshin impact cyno headcanons #genshin impact cyno #cyno headcanons #genshin fluff

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martybaker · 6 months

Text

Only Fools Rush In

So the setup for this is that Hob and Dream are professors in their forties at the same university, they’re friends who are very much pining for each other. They’re not oblivious, just taking things slow. Unfortunately, some meddling students and staff didn’t get the memo 😅

There will be more parts to this fic - as the word count kept running away from me I just decided to split it up and post the parts separately, however, I cannot promise when the next part will be completed.

——

Part 1

“Seriously? Where are your gloves? Hat? Scarf? Literally anything to keep you warm??”

Dream scoffs at getting scolded upon sight, taking the few more steps necessary to join Hob at the entrance to the outdoor ice skating rink.

“I’m warm enough,” he argues, earning a disbelieving look from Hob, who takes off his own gloves and grabs Dream’s hand, finding it cold, as expected. Dream snatches his hand away with a petulant pout.

Hob laughs at him. “You’re freezing! And you’re ridiculous! Having a fashion style to uphold is all fine and dandy, but dressed like this you’re just asking to catch a cold!”

“I thought I was here to try ice-skating, not to get a lecture on the way I dress,” Dream grumbles. “Besides, won’t I warm up by the activity? All this fuss is unnecessary.”

He makes for the door of the building where ice skates can be rented, with a ‘the sooner to get this over with, the better’ attitude.

Hob follows, raising an eyebrow at him: “Oh, Mr. Confident thinks he’ll be skating circles around me in no time? We’ll see how you’ll feel about the lack of gloves and padded clothing when you’ll end up on your arse, time and time again!”

Dream rolls his eyes. “I’m sure that was your exact intention when picking this activity, making a fool of me, all for your amusement.”

“Hey, I won the bet fair and square! Didn’t you have a blast when you won the last one, making me shave my stubble clean and draw a fake beard on? The students weren’t able to look at me in class without bursting into laughter!”

Dream cannot help but grin at the memory. “You were able to captivate them with the material nonetheless.”

“Yeah, but I had to work twice as hard to shift their attention away from the beard!”

—

They keep bickering as they rent a pair of skates each, finding a spot on the bench to change into them. Hob demonstrates how to properly tie the skates.

After Dream’s finished, he checks Dream’s work, grabbing onto the skates and testing the wiggle room.

“It needs to be tighter. Tied loosely and your ankles would move about, unsupported. You could get hurt.”

Dream nods, listening carefully. Hob is the expert here, or at least the one with lots of experience to draw from.

“Here, let me help you,” Hob slips from the bench down to his knees, Dream’s foot held in between them, and reties his laces, pulling them tight. Dream blinks rapidly, surprised by the action.

“There, that’s better,” Hob says, looking up and laughing at whatever expression it is that he finds on Dream’s face. “What? No one has ever tied your shoes for you before?”

Dream huffs. “Of course not,” he says, cheeks a little rosier than before, and lowers his gaze down, as if to inspect Hob’s work.

Luckily, Hob doesn’t tease more, he slowly stands up and then offers Dream an inviting hand. “Ready to rock and roll?”

Dream sighs. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” and takes Hob’s hand.

—

The ice rink isn’t too crowded, which is good. Firstly because they have room to move slowly on the ice, with Hob skating backwards and helping Dream learn the ropes without the danger of being run over by someone. And secondly, it means there are less witnesses to Dream’s mortifying struggles.

“Why, again, is this considered fun?” He grumbles, letting Hob pull him forward slowly, feeling extremely embarrassed as he can’t figure out how to move forward on his own without turning it into awkward stumbling rather than skating.

Hob laughs, squeezing Dream’s hands tighter.

“It is fun, it just takes some time to get into it. You’ve gotta lean forward a little, you’re too stiff and upright,” he advises.

Hob explains and demonstrates the right motions to him, over and over with great patience. Dream tries his best to follow the advice, and after a while, it does get better. Hob praises him and asks if he wants to try on his own for a bit, but Dream gives him an anxious look.

“Hmm, maybe you could try with the skating aid?” Hob suggests.

Dream grimaces. “Over my dead body,” he says, prompting Hob to burst into laughter again.

“Okay, got it. No skating aid for grown-up Dream. How about you skate near the boards and I'll be on your other side, so you could have something to grab on when you feel unstable?”

Dream nods.

Hob moves into position on his left side. Dream skates forward a few feet, wobbles and immediately grabs onto Hob’s arm with both hands, holding on for dear life.

Hob chuckles. “That’s alright, you’re doing great! Mistakes and falls are an inevitable part of the learning process!”

Dream glares at him. “Thanks for the tip, professor Gadling.”

Hob grins. “I’m no professor here, just an ice-skating teacher.”

“Whatever. Hold my hand,” Dream commands, and Hob happily obliges.

They do a few rounds like that, and it’s…actually not bad. Dream is getting used to the mechanics of the movement and he’s not that anxious with a steady support by his side.

He tries speeding up, and it works. He maybe even starts to feel a little bit of that excitement that attracts people to practice this activity regularly.

“You’re doing amazing!” Hob says, and Dream cannot help but preen.

He raises an eyebrow at Hob: “What were you saying earlier, about me landing on my arse again and again?”

Hob laughs. “Clearly, you have a good teacher!”

Dream snorts. “Clearly, I am a good student.”

“That you are,” Hob says with a smile, and pulls Dream to skate faster.

And faster.

And Dream stumbles on uneven ice, falling backwards and taking Hob with him.

They both land on their arses.

Hob, of course, reacts to this with laughter. Dream really doesn’t know where that man takes all that optimism from.

“Sorry, my bad, I went too fast!”

“Yes, you do that,” Dream mutters under his nose.

“Pardon?” Hob asks, brows furrowed as he picks himself up from the ice and holds out a hand for Dream.

Dream looks at the outstretched hand but doesn’t take it. “You’ll have to have patience with me, Hob. I don’t have the guts for barrelling into things headfirst anymore.”

“It’s generally recommended to avoid barrelling into anything while you’re ice skating,” Hob jokes. Dream gives him a look and this time Hob does catch on that Dream’s not talking about ice-skating anymore.

His gaze softens. “You can take all the time you need, Dream, I’m not in a rush.”

He plops down onto the ice next to Dream, back against the boards. “Wanna just chill here for a while?”

Dream gives him an unimpressed look. “We can’t sit here, we’re in people’s way.”

“Eh, they’ll make do for a minute.”

Dream shakes his head and pulls them both up to stand again. “I should get back on the horse, shouldn’t I?”

Hob grins. “I think that’s a different sport, love.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “It’s called an idiom, you twit.”

Dream dusts off his gloved hands and picks up the hat that he was wearing. Hob actually forced his own gloves and hat on him before they started and Dream has to admit to himself that he’s glad for them now. Of course, he’s not about to voice that and give Hob the satisfaction. The pompom on top of the hat is silly, but it does keep Dream’s ears warm, so he’s willing to commit this small fashion crime in the name of comfort.

To top it all off, Hob’s knitted Doctor Who scarf is now also in Dream’s possession. He has no objections to that one, though it does look better on Hob.

He would feel guilty for leaving Hob to freeze but the man’s actually wearing a big puffer jacket, zipped up to his chin. And his cheeks are endearingly rosy when he smiles at Dream, which is also, uhm, something.

“Shall we?” Hob asks, and Dream reaches for his hand again. This time, Hob doesn’t pull, but matches Dream’s own tempo.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x dream #the sandman #sandman #my writing #dreamling fic #sandman fic #I would tag this as conscious slowborn #as in they both have feelings and are aware the other one os on the same page #but they decide to take it slow #unfortunately meddling coworkers and students are there to create chaos #more in next part #ofri dreamling au

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artificial-transmutations · 10 months

Text

Transformation Letter: Dian

Hello. My name is Dian and I wouldn't mind transforming into anything or anyone. I'm an single 38 bisexual teacher, whom works out twice per week. My students would most likely describe me as the boring brown math teacher with the medium length black hair.

It wouldn't be right to say that today it is your favorite day of the year. To be honest, it's not even clear if you even have a favorite day of the year, at least regarding to your job.

Not anymore, at least. With your 38 years, you are teaching math for over ten years now. Ten years of reiterating the same and same again to your students. It is what people describe one of the biggest boons of teaching math: The subject never changes. While your colleagues have to integrate some new events or discoveries into their lessons every now and then, math never changes.

So, why is today one of the days you look most forward to? Because it's time for curve sketching again. This is both the subject you discovered your passion for math with and the point in the curriculum where you can see clearly which students are able to grasp the concepts of math - and which are too dumb.

Still, calling that one of your highlights sheds a sorry light on your academic career. Becoming a teacher *seemed* like a good idea, but the truth is that the endless repetitions are mind-numbingly dumb. You could have gotten a research job at university, but you decided to become a teacher. Ever since, every day is the same, every week, every year. Everything is on repeat. Teaching, driving home, working out twice a week, like a clockwork, summer holidays, winter holidays, one and the same.

You shake away the thought and sigh before entering your classroom and begin your lesson. You have the feeling you will lose half of your students today, intellectually, but you can hardly feel sorry. Math in school isn't hard. There is no reason for anyone not to get it.

So, you drone on and slowly approach one of the central milestones of the subject.

"And, as h approaches zero, we narrow in to the slope of the curve on that singular value for x. That is what we call a dancing quotient."

You look into the confused faces of your students. What did you just say? No, this is wrong. You try again.

"Sorry. The diffuse quo..." You trail off. Something is not quite right with you. You should know the word for that... thing. You look at the blackboard again. A big line with letters above and below, some arrows and a drawing of some curve. If you are honest, you don't understand fuck about all that. Weren't you supposed to teach math? Where are the numbers? What are letters doing in math.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" one of your students asks. Something else is wrong. When you look at your hand holding the chalk, it is way darker than it is supposed to look.

"Excuse me..." you mumble, surprised how deep your voice sounds. You exit the classroom and head towards the nearest bathroom, almost running.

The world seems wrong, too. It's like you’re looking at it from way too high. When you finally arrive and look at the mirror, you notice that your clothes are tight and constricting. Looking back from the mirror is another man, not the 38 year old math teacher you are used seeing every morning. The face looking back at you is younger, twenty-something. And it is Black, African American heritage, definitely. You can see your medium length black hair receding into your scalp, leaving you with the shortest buzz cut, as your nostrils become wider.

Not just your face changed! Your muscles grow and your shoulders expand, bringing your clothes that are riding high close to the breaking point. They don't break, however, but reform into a simple work uniform, covering your massive black body. At your groin, you can see the ample bulge of your dick and it makes you smile contently. You might not be the smartest, but you sure are both the strongest and best endowed man around here.

You give the mirror one last wipe and begin to clean the toilets with the janitorial equipment in your cart. Being a janitor in school is good work and doesn't require much of an education. That's why you even clean the toilets happily. However, it doesn't really pay well, either, so, recently you have gotten a second job as a bouncer in front of a gay club.

You don't mind the club visitors ogling your body or touching it from time to time, so the combination of both jobs makes for a diverse and eventful life! The strange letter you sent two weeks ago is already well forgotten.

Another one of those Transformation Letters. You, too can send one, over at my riot page!

#TransformationLetter #male transformation #muscle transformation #racial transformation

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oleander-nin · 11 months

Note

1 and 8 for the verbal prompts for platonic yan donnie where he sees the reader as a little sibling, if thats ok?

A/N, not important: Thank you for the message specifying it was for Rise! You're very sweet. Sorry for the absence, a lot has been going on. I'll try to catch up w/ requests soon. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Kidnapping, yandere themes, slight manipulation(?), injury to hand

Words: 1613

Prompt(s) requested: 1V("Well that wasn't very smart.") & 8V("See. Look at this. We're bonding.")

Summary: Hanging out with Donnie has been great! It's just, you'd really like to go home now.

“I want to go home.” My voice resonates through Donnie’s lab, my feet swinging back and forth as I spin on the chair Donnie parked me in. He doesn’t move, and I assume he didn’t hear me. “Hey Donnie? Can I go home now?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, fiddling with my thumbs. Donnie barely moves at my words, the slight tensing of his body the only sign he heard me. I let out a loud sigh, leaning back in the chair. I watch Donnie’s back. No reaction. I sigh again, louder this time.

I was getting frustrated with Donnie’s lack of acknowledgement, I couldn’t understand why he was ignoring me. I slip out of the chair, it spinning slightly from the force I used to get off. I walk up to Donnie, my finger hooking onto the fabric wraps on his arm. I tug twice, my face furrowed. “Donnie?”

Donnie glances at me, his face set in a hard stare. His hands were tense, his eyes clouded with thought. It didn’t seem like he was even looking at me properly. I stomp my foot, tugging on the fabric again. Donnie finally sets his current project down, the screwdriver set to the side. I straighten up, proud. I had gotten his attention, all by myself. I didn’t even have to go to Raph this time!

“I want to go home.” I repeat, my hands now clasped around his arm. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet. Maybe my parents would make my favorite food tonight, I hadn’t been home in a while. Mikey’s cooking was great, but nothing came close to what my parents made. I look at Donnie expectantly, waiting for him to get up and show me the way out. Maybe he’d let me ride on his battle shell again. I hoped so, it was fun.

Donnie’s eye twitches slightly and he takes a deep breath. I frown. He wasn’t standing up. He finally turns to look at me, my hands dropping to my side so he could move his chair fully. I grin up at him, waiting for him to get up, for him to take me home. I missed my parents. Donnie and his brothers were cool, but I liked my house. I was ready to go home. Donnie invited me to stay over with him two weeks ago, but I was bored now. It wasn’t as much fun living in the sewers as I thought it’d be.

Donnie’s eyes flick over me for a moment, his gaze scanning my features. He slumps in his seat a bit, two fingers rubbing where his sharpie on eyebrows were. I frown; he still isn’t getting up. I move to grab his hand again, but he picks his hand up and faces his palm towards me. “Why do you want to leave? I thought you were having fun.”

“I was, but now I want to go home. Please Donnie?” I whine, my voice drawing out the syllables to ‘was’ in a flair of dramatics. I pout, trying to get him to take me. I was tired of sleeping in the spare bedroom the Hamato’s lent me. It was cool I got to decorate it, but I missed my room. It wasn’t the same here.

“No, not right now. We’re bonding.”

I whine, throwing my hands in the air. “But why can’t I leave? We ‘bond’ all the time.”

Donnie sighs, his hand flicking through the screen to his right. I watch his hand move, the writing and diagrams flicking past the screen faster than I could compute. He glances back at me, a chart showing on the screen. His two pointer fingers touching on the screen, then moving apart makes it zoom in. The softshell angles the screen towards me, my body shifting to lean on his chair so I could examine the graph.

“This is your area’s crime rate,” His voice is soft, his hands moving across the screen and pointing at different sections of the graph. It was a line graph, showing the amount of crime in our area over the year. I puff out my cheeks, annoyed. How was this relevant? My parents were home and they were fine. “It’s been spiking recently. My brothers can protect you here, I can protect you here. I’m your brother, I’m not sending you back home to your incompetent caretakers.”

Donnie’s words take a moment to process and I blink up at him. He was still talking, his hands moving around while he explains on and on about how living here with him is better, safer. I look away, my eyes focusing on the floor, then they table. Donnie isn’t my brother; He’s just a close friend. I chew on my cheek. Who did he mean by my ‘caretakers’? My parent’s? A deep frown etches onto my face, my bottom lip sticking out. He insulted my parents in the same breath he claimed to be my brother.

“You’re not my brother.”

My sudden words make Donnie pause his rant, his eyes shifting back to me. His face twitches again, his eyes narrowing to meet my own. His hands settle down at his armrests, a finger tapping against the chair. “Of course I’m your brother you dumb dumb.”

I stomp my foot, my face growing hot in anger. “No you're not! And I wanna go home!”

Donnie ignores me, his hand waving away my words as if they mean nothing. His face is tilted, looking at me like I’m some dumb kid, like I don’t know any better. “You are home.”

I exhale harshly through my nostrils, turning sharply on my heel and heading for the exit. If Donnie isn’t going to take me home, maybe one of his brothers will. I hear Donnie moving around behind me, the sound of items on his desk being shuffled around makes its way through the lab. I march up to the door, grumbling. It wasn’t fair, Donnie was just being a jerk. My parents were not incompetent. They loved me and the stupid crime graph didn’t mean a thing. Donnie was just being stupid.

The metal doors of the lab swing shut right before I reach them, and I jump back in surprise. I look at the door, my frustration and anger building in my chest. I hear Donnie’s footsteps behind me, his presence taking over the room. I punch the metal doors, pulling my fist back in pain. My knuckles were red and my hand was throbbing, the metal not even dented. I feel myself tear up, my emotions building up and threatening to spill out. A large green hand encases my wrist, bringing it closer to Donnie’s face. I try to pull away from his grip; I’m still mad at him.

“Now that wasn’t very smart.” He chides, his tongue tsking against his teeth. I stomp my foot, trying to wrench my arm out of his grasp. He holds tight, tugging on my wrist to get me to follow him. “Come one, I have some bandages in here we can wrap it with.”

I stumble behind him, dragging my feet as we walk. I pout the entire way to the cabinet, his grip on my hand staying firm the whole time. He wasn’t letting me pull away. Donnie clears a spot on one of his nearby work tables, sticking me on it so he could better access my hand. He turns to grab the bandages and I stick my tongue out at him. A surge of pride settles in my chest at the small rebellion. My face quickly schools itself back to normal when he faces me once turns back, my legs swinging back and forth as if I had done nothing wrong. My tears were long forgotten, but my anger was not.

I flex my hands as he tries to wrap them, closing the hand into fists and opening them again at random to mess him up. I snicker quietly at his frustrated face, my own expression molded into a fake innocence. His hand shifts in how it’s holding my wrist, his thumb now pressed against my palm and making it difficult to close my hands. I slump backwards, my face pinched. Donnie looks down at me, rolling his eyes at my dramatics.

He finishes wrapping my hand and let's go, the mutant’s eyes scanning the bandages carefully. I pull at the wrapping, grumbling at the way it made my skin itch. My foot lightly collides with his knee, his attention turning back to my face. Our gaze meets and I hold his eyes for a moment. “Can I go home now?”

The softshell scowls. “Why would you want to leave? You have everything you could ever want here. I’m taking care of you.”

I shake my head and the turtle groans. He taps his foot on the ground, his hands on his hips. His lower lip juts out ever so slightly as he tries to figure out what to do. “What if… What if I showed you SHELLDON’s blueprint’s? Would that make you less upset?”

I pause for a moment. He would show me SHELLDON’s blueprints? My brain shifts, the exciting offer forcing itself into the forefront of my mind. We could argue about going home later, but he may never offer to show me these again. I slip off the table, grabbing his hand and leading the mutant towards his desk. Donnie smirks as he follows me, happy to have distracted me in the moment. He could deal with a game plan on how to keep me here later. Donnie would always figure it out.

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ironstrange1991 · 1 year

Text

Too Tired

+18 smut

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is tired from a mission and after two rounds with you, you still want one more. Will he be able to met with your expectations?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Its a smut, but a soft and romantic one. P in V, Oral sex with female and male receiving, mastrubation with female and male receiving, lots of dirty talk.

A/N: Guys I have been thru a lot in my personal life so thats the reason why I have disappeared but I love be in here, I love this comunity and I love to write for Stephen, right now its the only thing that is keeping me alive LITERALLY. So belive me when I say I wrote this from rock bottom and took this words from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoy it.

Stephen rolled onto his side of the bed, body sweaty, breathing heavily after two rounds with you, the second being a particularly long one. He was spent.

You were apart for two weeks and when he got home that morning you simply attacked him demanding to be sated of all the love and desire you felt for him.

Stephen had a relatively high sex drive, but sometimes he was surprised by you. Positively of course. That morning he made you come three times, once on his face, twice on his cock. He came hard twice himself, the first time in your mouth and the second inside you and yet as he threw himself back on the pillows trying to regulate his breathing you crawled into his chest placing kisses on his neck, moving up to his face, his cheek, rubbing your face against his goatee and squeezed your thighs together like a cat in heat and he knew it was going to be a long day and he wasn't complaining, he loved that about you but to be quite honest he didn't know if he could meet your demands and expectations.

Stephen was tired. The mission had been a long one and although he came back in one piece this time with no bruises or broken bones, he could feel the weariness getting to him and as much as he wanted to immediately go for a third round he doubted he could get an erection that fast.

You cupped his face pulling him to your lips and stuck your tongue in his mouth kissing him so hot it brought a moan from the back of his throat. "Oh sweetheart..." He caressed your face watching as you bit your bottom lip "I love it when you kiss me like that"

You grinned and kissed him again, this time giving his bottom lip a little nip. You took his hand and brought it down between your legs. He sighed feeling how wet you were again when minutes before he had cleaned you up. "You're insatiable, sweetheart, look at that, all wet for me again" You lay back on the mattress and spread your legs wider for him "I've been without you for two weeks Stephen, do you have any idea how hard that was? I I had to resort to other methods, but it's not the same as having the Master of the Mystic Arts fucking me."

Stephen chuckled, he propped himself up on his elbow as he dipped his middle finger deeper inside you, slowly fucking you with rhythmic strokes. You moaned louder. "Is that why you called me in the middle of the night? Because your toys alone weren’t enough to make you come?"

He added a second finger to draw a passionate sigh from your lips. You shook your head, your eyes were closed "I needed to hear your voice" You confessed.

"Aham, just my voice or all the dirty things I whispered to you on the phone?"

"Both... Ah Stephen I want you to make me come again"

Stephen kissed you. Not a simple kiss, but that kiss where his tongue wandered to each corner of your mouth, sucking your tongue hard and biting your lips in the process. You could have sworn that only that kiss was capable of making you come.

You groaned loudly, your hand on top of Stephen's hand showing him exactly what you wanted. He managed to put his thumb on your clit and started circling it slowly. "Like that?" He asked in your ear in that wonderful whispered voice. You could only nod your head in approval, your mouth went agape.

"Oh I know sweetheart. I know exactly how you like it. You need to have just the right amount of pressure here, don't you?"

You shook your head vehemently.

"I know. Just let go then. I know you so well, my love." He put a little more pressure on his thumb as he moved both fingers in an intense rhythm and he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. Oh he loved that feeling. He loved it much more when it was in his cock, but it felt powering. Knowing he was responsible for leaving you in that state made him feel more powerful than any spell.

"Oh Stephen, you're going to make me come..."

Stephen hummed in your ear and nibbled your earlobe reveling in the way your skin prickled "Come on, sweetheart, come hard for me, show me how much you love me"

He didn't have to ask twice. The combination of the intense penetration of his fingers, the friction of his thumb on your clit and his voice whispered in your ear was explosive. You came. Hard.

Your moan was almost a whimper, but Stephen insisted on swallowing it with another breathtaking kiss.

He took his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, sucking them provocatively "You taste so good"

You smiled charmingly at him opening your arms and he throws himself into them giving you a crushing hug and biting your neck rubbing his goatee there making you shiver and giggle. He rolled to the side, but kept you firm in his arms, your head on his chest, your hand caressed his chest and went down to his belly and kept going down, not satisfied you started giving light kisses on his chest that quickly went from Innocent to provocative, your hand grabbed his cock which was only half hard.

"I dont know if I can do it again sweetheart, even though I want it, I am tired."

You hummed undaunted by the challenge ahead and held it tight in your hand stroking it up and down slowly.

He squeezed you in his arms and you turned to kiss him and God, that kiss alone would be more than enough to make his cock hard if he wasn't so tired. Even so, the way you moved and your kiss was enough to bring some life to it, though still not enough.

"Put it in your mouth sweetheart, make me hard for you."

You were moving to put it in your mouth when he pulled you past his head, putting you on all fours and bringing your pussy up to his head giving him a privileged view of your soaked slit. You didn't wait a second to put it in your mouth and he didn't wait to grab your thighs and pull you to his mouth sucking and surprising you with delicious voracity.

Stephen wasn't small even half flaccid, but as he hardened in your mouth he grew and you loved to see that transformation. Stephen had a delicious cock, but more than that, his cock was beautiful. Just like him. Big, thick, with the pink tip and bulging veins that pulsed in your mouth.

Stephen loved to suck you. He could be hard just by smelling and drinking all your fluids, but he also loved the way you rolled on his face without any shame. You had a hungry clit, he loved to take it between his teeth when it was all swollen and red from your arousal, to flick his tongue on it or simply suck on it and feel his entire body quiver in response. Pleasuring you was always the best way to get Stephen hard.

He loved your moans, he loved the way you reveled in your own pleasure and he especially loved knowing that he was responsible for leaving you in that state.

Stephen knew all your weaknesses, he knew for example that you came faster if you had friction on your clit along with the penetration, he also knew very well that getting you face down from behind pinning you against the bed with his body weighting above you as he rubbed the beard on your neck and whispered all kinds of filth in your ear was the most delicious way to make you come and fall head over heels in love with him.

Just like he knew that, like now, you loved being able to wiggle in his face and rub your pussy in his goatee.

But he didn't want you to come yet, your next orgasm would be on his cock which was already rock hard for you again.

"That's right sweetheart, you are awesome, look how hard you left me again. Come here, ride me. I want to feel you bouncing on my cock"

You were more than happy to comply with his request. And a second later you were directing his cock at your entrance completely soaked by your lubrication and Stephen's saliva.

You moaned as you lowered allowing him to go deep inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate him inside you. It didn't matter that he'd fucked you twice already, it was always quite a challenge to contain him inside you.

"Fuck you feel so good, love. Move please, ride me hard" You leaned against his chest and started rocking on his cock, alternating between back and forth and up and down movements. Increasing your pace slowly, the noises of his cock moving in and out of your soaked pussy was always so delicious, it made you extremely horny for him.

Stephen took one of his hands around your waist and grabbed your tit with the other letting you do all the work.

"Oh sweetheart you do it so good, I love it when you fuck me like that"

It wasn't common for Stephen to relinquish control in bed, usually he did all the work being dominant all the time and you loved that about him, but sometimes when he was tired he chose to let you be in control and the result was always extremely pleasurable for both and you knew he was a lot more tired than he let on.

Even from that and from the way his cock was throbbing violently inside you, you knew he wouldn't last.

"Fuck, if it continues at this rate I'm going to come, sweetheart, I can't hold back, you feel too good"

You were so close to your orgasm that stopping wasn't an option. "I am almost there, Stephen. Hold it" You bit your bottom lip bending forward to get just a little more friction "Slap my ass"

Stephen grinned and complied. You moaned loudly "Again"

He did it. "Again" He did it again and then it happened. Your entire body shook on top of him, your walls squeezing his cock so hard and pulling him to his too. "Oh thats right sweetheart... oh fuck, fuck..." Stephen spilled inside you and you loved that feeling.

You collapsed on top of him and Stephen wrapped you in his arms putting you on the bed but keeping you in his arms.

"That was... intense" You finally said and then you both giggled.

Stephen kissed your lips lightly and got up going to the bathroom and came back with a cloth. He cleaned you up and then cleaned himself up and then came back to bed holding out his arm for you to lie comfortably next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder and caressed his face lightly watching him. His eyes were red with sleep.

"Poor thing, I took advantage of you a lot, didn't I?"

He smirked, but his eyes were practically closing by themselves "I pretty much enjoyed every second of it"

You smiled cupping his face and pulling it to your lips. You kissed him softly.

"Yeah I know. And you were amazing as always, but I will let you sleep now, Stephen. You deserve it."

He hummed squeezing you in his arms "Thank you sweetheart"

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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tobiasdrake · 20 days

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love your db analysis posts! i'd love to hear your thoughts on ultimate gohan, if you have any. between him having little to no reaction to finding out everyone on earth is dead, and randomly letting gotenks fight buu instead of himself, he did not seem to be the same character at all to me, and iirc even piccolo says so, i just... find it hard to believe a non-rage-triggered power-up would do that to him.

Much like Android 16, I do wonder if there were more plans for Ultimate Gohan that wound up being scrapped by the shift in narrative direction.

We're first introduced to the concept of Ultimate Gohan as the Elder Kaioshin is explaining his abilities.

Gohan's dormant power has long been a recurring attribute of his character. In fact, this isn't the first time he's had an elderly sage draw out his dormant power.

Teaching him to draw out and control his dormant abilities was (stealthily) part of Goku's training with him. That Gohan was finally starting to make it his own and tap into his true ki is the reason for why he was repeatedly unimpressed by Goku's abilities.

Gohan didn't even realize it, but through his mastery of the Super Saiyan, he'd also begun to take control of and internalize the tremendous ki he'd always had stored away in him. And as he came into his own ki, what he could sense of Goku's ki proportional to his own didn't make sense to him.

Super Saiyan 2 was, then, the culmination of Gohan's development. His full power, channeled through the Super Saiyan and its amplifying effects - both for better and, uh, for worse.

But it's been seven years and Gohan's been indulging in his true love of academia, in accordance with the agreement Goku and Chi-Chi made about his future.

Goku may have successfully escaped having to get a job by conveniently dying at the last possible second, but Gohan's future is set on a course. He's going to be an academic. It's what Chi-Chi wants for him, and it's what Gohan wants for himself; Even Goku acknowledges that.

Seven years of rigorous study and zero martial arts practice later, Gohan isn't the guy anymore. In fact, examining just how much Gohan isn't the guy anymore is the whole point of his fight with Dabra.

Goku eyeballs Dabra as being roughly around Cell's power. This allows Dabra to serve as a yardstick for Gohan, so we understand what it means for him when he fails to measure up.

Gohan that was a Zanzoken/Afterimage. Nobody even does those anymore. They became obsolete after ki-sensing was normalized, because everyone can now easily sense which "image" is the real one. The one other time we saw a Zanzoken return post-23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, it was against Frieza, who can't sense ki.

Dabra is mocking you right now. He legit thinks you're so shitty at martial arts that you'll fall for this amateur-hour guff. And he's right.

I kinda feel Geets here. If I had to watch my last chance to ever fight my rival get wasted on this, I'd be losing my mind too. He fucking fell for a Zanzoken; Can I just take over already?

So. Yeah. Full Power Gohan isn't a thing anymore. He can still tap into the form - and for some inexplicable reason so can Goku and Vegeta - but this is no longer Peak Potential. Which is where the Elder Kaioshin comes in.

This is a classic formula of Dragon Ball. We've seen it in the RRA, Piccolo, Saiyan, Namek (twice!), and Android arcs. First, Goku gets the shit kicked out of him - sometimes even to the point of being presumed dead.

While the surviving cast members scurry about trying to find a way to face the bad guy, Goku - sometimes unbeknownst to them, sometimes not - is recovering and preparing to come back stronger than ever. This typically takes the form of some sort of godly trial or ordeal guaranteed to make him stronger than ever.

Then, at the 11th hour when all else has failed and all hope is lost, Goku makes his return to have one last epic battle for the fate of the world/universe/cosmos.

This is the Dragon Ball formula. Has been since the day the Four-Star Dragon Ball saved Goku's life from a lethal Dodonpa. Of course, getting Gohan back up to speed isn't going to be enough, since Majin Buu in his weakest form was able to do this to our Cell-adjacent yardstick.

I wonder what Dabra Cookie tastes like? I imagine it's like the wafer part of a Keebler cookie. Sugary and nice on its own but better with fudge.

So. Yeah. If Gohan's going to throw hands with Buu, he's going to need more than the power he fought Cell with. Fortunately, that's the Elder's specialty, and what makes this different than that other time Gohan had his dormant power drawn out.

That's right, we're limit-breaking again. Not the limits of human ability, the limits of Saiyan ability, or even the limits of Super Saiyan ability; We're limit-breaking Gohan specifically. Elder Kaioshin's abilities can not only draw out Gohan's full dormant ability but push it beyond Gohan's natural limits.

Full Power Gohan? Nah. This is Limit-Breaker Gohan. Not his full potential; Beyond his potential. Something entirely different from the Super Saiyan, but similar enough that he doesn't require much alternative instruction.

Kinda feels like a thing that shouldn't be able to exist, to be honest. After all the time that's been put into things like the strain of the Kaio-ken on a body, the effects of Frieza having power beyond his limits, or even what trying to use Super Saiyan 3 in a mortal body does to Goku in this very arc.

The idea of Gohan channeling ki beyond his limits seems like it should have some drawbacks, doesn't it? We do get some hints that something's weird about Gohan's new power. Piccolo can't even recognize his ki signature in this state.

This form is doing some weird shit to his ki. And, as Piccolo notes, Gohan's harder now. Gohan is here to take care of business, and nothing is going to get in his way.

But. Then. The switch happens. Suddenly, Gohan is no longer the protagonist and we need a way for Majin Buu to suddenly be too much for Gohan to handle. So we go from this:

To this:

In the span of two chapters. All so that Buu can ass-pull a brand new ability that's never once been mentioned before even though Kaioshin will later cop to having seen him do it twice, that will instantly make Ultimate Gohan stop being a solution to this problem two chapters after his debut.

A plan that, in fact, he began putting into place one chapter after Ultimate Gohan's debut. Never in the history of Dragon Ball has a brand new form or ability been obsoleted this quickly.

And then Gohan was basically thrown in the dumpster and this was never spoken of again, with Ultimate Gohan just becoming his new Strongest Transformation in follow-up products. You can feel the climactic final act being aggressively aborted around him, in favor of Goku and Vegeta's third act.

Hell, at one point, Goku even suggests bringing in Gohan to fight Pure Buu. Y'know. Since Ultimate Gohan is the strongest in the universe and all that. But Vegeta nopes it.

No explanation offered. He's just like, "That's not the plot anymore; Try to keep up, Kakarot." To be fair, Goku had a chance to bring Gohan into this too. They're both aggressively elbowing Gohan out of the spotlight here.

Mad disrespect.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #son gohan

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