#charming zombie man

[ekwalker]

the real challenge is working out whether i’m hearing zombie sound effects or if it’s just morrissey whining

#zombies run #tag yourself as a morrissey grunt i’m the high pitched one in this charming man

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

#Alex Skopic #theory #the ramblin' rover

[studioghibelli]

toothache- a joel miller x reader fan fic

note: hello friends :) this is my first fan fic in a loooong time, and i've been quite inspired by all the lovely joel miller fics i have been reading lately. he's a character i find pretty... alluring. (hehehehe.) it's been quite some time since i've written anything about a fictional character so i hope you all enjoy. any tips, criticism, advice, comments, etc. are always welcomed, so feel free to say anything!

summary: after two long years apart, a failed relationship, and a wasted engagement ring, you and joel reunite at a family christmas party. old feelings come up, arguments ensue, and you somehow end up naked beneath him.

rating: 18+, "mature content" as the kids say, mdni!

word count: 5ish thousand

warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, dbf!joel, big phat huge giant slutty age gap (you pretty much decide, no specific ages actually mentioned, but obvs reader has been legal their entire relationship), no outbreak!au, daddy issues, reader has a bit of an outburst, mentions of christianity, reader is hit by their father once, a delicious bit of angst littered about occasionally, reader just got out of a relationship, childfree!joel, daddy issues, guilt, cocky arrogant charming!joel, a few catty arguments, joel and reader have a PAAAAST, SHMUT (PiV, unprotected sex, creampie, f and m receiving oral, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, ehhh i think i got it all.)

Beneath the canopy of glimmering Texas stars, a blanket of dark solitude rested upon your covered shoulders. This night, a chilling, nippy Thursday evening half past eight, was much more calming than most. The wind howled sweetly in the distance, accompanied by the fluttering shake of oak leaves, crisp with the oranges of autumn, browning and crisping at the edges like an overbaked pie crust.

Looking in through the dusty, fogged windows of your childhood home, you saw your mother pacing about, hanging up tinsel and elaborate ornaments throughout the living room, muttering what you could only imagine would be prayers as she dealt with the stress of party planning. Your father sat on a leather arm chair, legs crossed atop the mahogany table, flipping through the channels like a drone, his zombie crusted eyes glazed over with the promise of mindless watching.

The annual Christmas party your parents held religiously each year was tomorrow, Friday the 22nd, at exactly 6PM. You had flown in from the city you had managed to settle in almost three days ago, and were met with all the reasons you had left Austin in the first place. An aggressive and brutal father, a critical mother, and a wallpaper stained room full of regret, slathered with the oil of guilt. Your bedsheets reminded you of him, your pillows were fluffed with images of his graying curls, and the sight of your carpet made your knees burn with the thought of all the times he had you kneel before him.

His hands, rough and calloused by long days working on his truck, contracting out his skills, fixing sinks and mowing lawns for the neighbors. Long fingers leaving trail marks and imprints red with the burn of lust, rough lips that had memorized each part of your neck, your shoulders, your thighs, your collarbones. Your cotton sheets still smelled like him. Like waves of vanilla bergamot wafting through an amber forest, like a night full of sweet promises and well-kept secrets.

Deep down you knew you shouldn't be thinking about him. Especially not right after a breakup. A breakup with the man you had planned to marry. Some mornings you could still feel the weight of the now lost diamond atop your ring finger, somedays you could still smell the citrus of his shampoo, feel the smoothness of his kisses. But he wasn't Joel.

Joel.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn't have closed your eyes and imagined him, especially not while being fucked by another. But for some reason, some reason completely unknown and foreign to you, you just couldn't burn his image, his taste, his scent from your memory. Whether your ex-fiancé would climb on top of you, take you from behind, lay beneath you- whatever it was he did- you couldn't shake Joel fucking Miller from your head.

"Tha's it, babydoll." A guttural groan seared through your ears like the heavy bass of a song, engulfing your senses with the high burning flames of pride that his praise so often left you feeling. "S'good for daddy."

Joel watched with darkening eyes as your tongue swirled along the tip of his head, licking the precum that leaked from his thick, twitching cock. His fingers had stitched themselves within the yarn of your hair, pulling and guiding you exactly where he wanted you to go. But Joel didn't have to do that much. Oh, no. Not with you. It was as if you were apart of him, as if you knew exactly what he wanted, right when he wanted it. Like you could read his mind. His thoughts were yours to swim through just as much as they were his.

You stared up at him with big doe eyes and, unbeknownst to him, eyes full of adoration. All you wanted was to please him. All you wanted was to taste his cum and feel his love. All you wanted was him. Every day, every night, every morning, every holiday. And although you were young, you were certainly not naive, and you knew why Joel snuck in through your window at night. Not for love, not for deep conversation, not for peace. When he sought you out, he wanted to partake in carnal sin with you. Joel wanted to lick your skin and taste your passion, he wanted to swallow your moans and take you like a wild animal, hungry for a taste of your sweet, devilish nectar.

You gulped thickly in the dead silence of night, staring up at the crescent moon. Thoughts of him filled you dreadfully full to the brim, and all the guilt from the nights you spent dreaming of him and not the man you were supposed to marry, came bubbling up to the surface, choking you. In the end, it was the reason you left your clueless, heartbroken fiancé. You could no longer lie to yourself, you could no longer go about with the it is what it is mindset.

As the night darkened with swirls of purple and navy, and the air grew colder with December chills, you decided it was finally time to go inside. When you got in bed you were met by the absence of his warmth, by the longing for his touch, the smell of his skin, the linger of his fingers. You fell asleep to thoughts of him, dreaming of what once was.

_______

The living room of your old home had been transformed into a winter wonderland full of crimson and gold, the smell of mulled wine and freshly baked bread thick in the air. A crackling fire raged on in the fireplace, filling the room with a warmth not usually found within their walls, and guests were strung about on couches talking, leaning against walls and flirting, and some lingered about the kitchen taste-testing your mother's newest creations.

You wore a simple red dress with black tights and a matching cardigan that would just not stay up on your shoulders, blending in with everyone else for the most part. Your makeup was done, hair perfect, jewelry secured- everything that played a vital role to look presentable at a function held by your parents, you had made sure to do. There was no use in upsetting them, not after the anger and resentment they threw at you when you broke up with that dear sweet boy they thought was just much too good for you.

You rolled your eyes at the thought.

There was a heavy knock on the door that it seemed only you heard, the radio to your left playing a mix of vintage Christmas music you had had memorized since you were a little girl. Setting down the glass of wine, you made your way to the front, slowly opening the door.

A slap in the face of that delicious, panty soaking cologne threw you for a loop. You didn't have to look up from the broad, flannel covered chest to know exactly who it was. Your legs were already shaking, mouth already watering. Yet, despite this, anger drummed within your chest, tugging at your heart with its gnarled, sharpened claws.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. Those honeyed orbs that reminded you of the earth after a fresh rain, deep and knowing and mysterious and.... perfect. Always so perfect, so beautiful.

"Joel Miller." You stated, much more plainly than you thought you could ever muster.

"Well hello there darlin'. Long time no see." He purred so sweetly you would have missed the sarcasm if you weren't properly listening. A shit eating smirk tugged at his lips, hidden behind the dark moustache you had become well acquainted with many moons ago. "You sure look pretty. Did ya' miss me?"

A tight clench to your jaw caused your teeth to hurt, nostrils flaring with the heat of aggravation. Your body deceived you, crying out for his touch. It didn't forget all those orgasms he gave you, all those marks he left. How could it?

"No. I did not." You finally lied right through your teeth, cementing your fate in the fiery pits of hell as you grudgingly allowed him to enter.

Joel still towered over you menacingly, and it made your thighs press against themselves. He stared at you, long and hard, taking you in like a drunkard scanning the liquor aisle. "No ring?" He finally spoke.

"No. I left him."

He sniggered, raising an eyebrow. "Probably 'cause you were thinkin' about me too much."

"Just go get some beer, talk to my dad, and leave me alone!" You finally snarled, narrowing your eyes at him. Joel raised his hands in silent defense, shot you a wink, and left you standing in the foyer like a dumb, lost fool.

All night you tried to avoid him. Despite this pact you made with yourself, your eyes always managed to wander towards him, and he always managed to catch you staring. He never approached you about it, he just tilted his lips in a smirk and went right back to whatever conversation he was apart of, nursing a dripping bottle of Modelo, with that damned smirk never leaving.

It wasn't until dinner was being served that you noticed your place card settled right beside his. Great. You groaned.

"It's too late to change places now. You should have told me earlier." Your mother scolded you for your audible discomfort, setting down the casserole dish of sweet potatoes. "Next year, tell me in advance. Instead of waiting last minute and moping about!"

"Yes ma'am." You muttered.

A group of men walked in discussing football amongst themselves, and the remaining chairs were soon full of their laughter and conversation. Joel sat down beside you, smoothing out his jeans with those perfectly roughed up hands. You glanced down at them, tracing his knuckles and nail beds with your eyes. You began chewing on your lower lip, and he had no doubt what you were thinking of.

"Betcha' missed these hands. Hmm?" His voice was so quiet, only you could hear. "These fingers, too."

"You are the most arrogant fucking man in the entire universe, Joel Miller. Has anyone ever told you that?"

His eyes lit up with delight. You stared into them, old memories and feelings you had tried to suppress rushing to the forefront of your mind. The sting of guilt filled your heart. "You jus' did, darlin'." You groaned again, quietly this time, and your ears twitched in annoyance at the sound of his sly chuckle.

"Let's say grace." Your father held out his hands, that fake smile of his stretched out across his face, painfully taut and insincere. He wore a pitiful clown mask. Always had.

You took the hand of the person to your left, someone your mother used to know from a Bible study, and with an annoyed eye roll, grabbed Joel's hand to your right rather brutally. The roughness of his palm felt warm and familiar, and Joel took note of how your legs squeezed together at the initial contact.

"Our father..." Your own began, and you slowly turned to face Joel.

His tongue swiped across his lower lip, his eyes shut as he did his best to listen to the falsehoods your father peddled, about family and togetherness and the giving season of Christmas, and so on so forth.

But Joel wasn't stupid.

He felt your gaze burning holes right through him, and had no problem cracking open an eyelid to meet your line of sight. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment, and you quickly looked away, too nervous, too scared, too everything to meet those chocolate orbs again.

His thumb circled itself across your knuckles, the rough pad of his digit igniting a fire within you, and you felt his arm slowly moving your entwined hands down towards your thigh. You didn't stop him. How could you? He let go of your grasp, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sheer tights, lifting your dress up ever so slightly. His short nails danced across your skin, lightly tracing shapes and letters against it. Slowly crawling higher, higher, higher....

"- We love you, our good and almighty Father. Amen."

Joel took his hand away, and no one was the wiser.

No one except you. You cleared your throat quietly, beginning to pass around the fresh, steaming food to those nearest of you.

For a while you stared at your plate. Honeyed ham, whipped potatoes, sauteed green beans, crisp broccoli. None of it sounded good. You poked around with your fork, chewing on your lip as you mindlessly paid attention to the conversation bustling around you. Joel was immersed in a conversation with your father about the NHL or NFL, you didn't know because you didn't really care, and your mother was laughing with her friends about shared nail salon stories and talks of their husbands.

"You know, our daughter could have had a husband by the New Year." Your mother finally said, pointing the rim of her wineglass towards you. The blood colored liquid sloshed against the transparent glass, dribbling down the side like falling tears.

Looking up from your plate, you faked a smile. "Yep. Could've."

"Can you believe this girl, Joel?" Your father finally spoke, shoving a fork full of casserole into his wide mouth. "He was perfect, really. Polite, hard working, on his way to law school. Apparently she doesn't know what's good for her." He was practically guffawing, his eyes rolling with each syllable.

Joel turned, looking at you. His brows were knitted together, lips slightly parted, and he looked at you with a curiosity you had not seen him show before. You cleared your throat once more, finally taking a bite of your potatoes and steering away from his burning gaze.

"You're right, dad. I don't know what's good for me."

"When I was her age, phew..." Your mother wiped the fake sweat from her brow, her friends joining her in a choir of laughter. "Let me just tell you, I never would have let a catch like that go. He was so handsome, too."

"Why'd you even leave him, anyways? You never did tell us. Your poor mother was up all night crying when you finally broke the news."

You dropped your fork with a loud clang against the porcelain of your mother's finest China, shrugging your shoulders with an exasperated groan. "You know, I don't really know. I guess I just felt like it!" You lied, your tone dripping with annoyance, soaked with the familiar hiss of sarcasm. "I guess- well you know me- my tiny little female brain can't possibly comprehend what's good for me!" Abruptly, you stood up from the dining room table, narrowing your eyes.

"Don't talk to your father like-"

"You want to know why I really left him, pops? Are you dying to know?"

His cheeks had puffed up like the chest of a mating bird, eyes darkening dangerously quick as he stared daggers into your soul, praying and hoping you would keep talking. Anything for an excuse to have a go at you. "Why?" His voice was low, yet still inquisitive.

"Because the only time I could cum was if I was thinking about another man. Are you happy now? He couldn't please me. He was lazy. Annoying. Li-"

Whack.

Right across the face. A searing hot poker branding your cheek with a hefty, molten, angry slap. His tongue swiped the inside of his cheek, yellowing teeth gritting against themselves so hard you could have sworn you heard a crack. He had his finger pointed, ready to pull the trigger and unleash a spew of cusses and shouts your way, before he was stopped by Joel's deep, anger laden voice.

"Hey!" Joel had jumped up on his feet with lightning fast reflexes, and the room had gone eerily quiet. "Come on now, man. That ain't how we treat ladies." He had grabbed your elbow to help steady you, your head dizzy and eyes clouded with prickling tears. Your father shot daggers at you, paid barely any mind to Joel, and stormed out of the room, steam bellowing from his ears.

Joel looked at your mom, the deep crease settling in against his forehead. "I'll help clean 'er up. Jus' stay here and enjoy the rest of your dinner." He managed a charming smile despite the anger brewing inside the tightness of his chest, and you walked alongside him as he led the way to your room.

Your room.

Joel found the lingering scent of vanilla and tobacco candles filtering in through his nostrils, the familiarity transporting him back to nights dripping with the silver hue of the moon, the softness of your skin and the swirling of your tongue heavy at the forefront of his memories. It reminded him of your gaze, hungry and devilish, the sharpness of your incisors biting into his skin as he took you hard, as he took you rough, as he made you his. The whisper of your sweet voice, the feeling of your chest against his, the way you made him dizzy with the addicting high of desire.

Now is not the time. Not now, while you held your cheek and stared angrily at your wall, tears of both resignation and resentment pooling, your mascara flaking by the corners of your eyes. He felt a bit like a horned up asshole, admittedly.

Joel crouched in front of you. His jeans spread tight against the thickness of his thighs, the top buttons of his flannel unbuttoned, giving you access to the golden hue of his chest. Now is not the time, you thought to yourself. Not when you wanted to be angry at him, not when you craved to push him away.

"You are the last person I need taking care of me." You snarled. "I-I-" A hiccup erupted from your mouth, a shaky sob leaving you. You were embarrassed by the fact you had crumbled so quickly. "Just leave. Like.... like you did the last time."

"The last time?" He spoke incredulously. "Is your brain workin' properly?" You stared bitterly in his direction, arms now crossed over your chest. "I don't know if you remember, but you're the one that left me."

You sat in silence, top lip curling with confusion. "I asked if you wanted to come with me..."

"To some fancy city hundreds'a miles away from my home? Just up an' startin' a completely new life? That's what you were askin' me to do, babydoll. It was you who decided to leave." His fingers found their way to your knees, his voice calm yet firm. He gave them a tight squeeze, letting you know he was there, that he was present, that he wasn't planning on letting go.

"Are you blind? Did you not just see what happened out there?" You sniffled, wiping your runny nose on the sleeve of your black cardigan. You didn't push his grip away, not when it felt so warm, so good. "I had to leave, Joel."

"If you woulda asked, instead of running off all impatient like ya' did, I would've taken us somewhere. Southwest.... Dallas, maybe. I-I haven't put much thought into it." A complete lie. Even Joel couldn't convince himself of that.

Oh, he had thought of it alright. Day and night, when all he had was his right hand to keep him company, when you were far away sleeping with that kid who wasn't him. For the first time in his life, he had found himself feeling jealous. Jealousy caused by a woman he had no business being so fond, so infatuated, so in love with. A part of him felt ridden with guilt, unsure of the implications your relationship had. The other part didn't give a flying fuck.

"You.... you really would’ve?" Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Joel felt his heart tight against his chest. It hurt for you.

All he did was nod.

"And I-and I left you!" You wailed into your hands, falling against his chest. "I fucked it all up!"

"Shh." He held you quietly, his heavy palm rubbing circles into your lower back, gently thumbing the fabric every so often. "S'alright, now. I'm here. I've got you, babydoll."

"I can't even imagine how you felt." You mumbled into his ear, your fingers finding a stray curl behind it. "Knowing I was off with some idiot." A thick stutter of breath got caught in your throat, your nose still sniffling. "I thought of you everyday."

Joel nodded against your head. "I know, I know you did."

"Now is not the time for your ego-"

He cut you off. "I know, because I did too. And me and you? Well, I always thought we were entwined. One in the same. Same typa' fabric, or cloth or.... somethin'."

You pulled away, blinking slowly. "Are you being romantic with me?"

He nodded slowly.

You weren't quite sure what to do, you just stared at the man before you, heart pounding, eyelids fluttering. He moved his hand higher up your leg until he reached your waist, tightly holding it. His fingers grasped into your skin, gently keeping you in place for his eyes only. Joel savoured your presence, taking in every inch of you that he hadn't seen for what felt like a lifetime.

"Will you get up here... with-...." you trailed off for a moment, slightly worried, "-with me?"

"I was startin' to think you'd never ask." He climbed up on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. Joel pat his hands on his lap, beckoning you to come closer and take a seat on him.

"Maybe.... take those off?" You pointed to his jeans, chewing on the inside of your cheek. A smirk graced his mouth, and he nodded in silent agreement, quickly kicking off his worn leather boots and denim jeans. You settled down on his lap, legs on each side of him as you straddled his waist, nose to nose with him.

You had always adored his nose. Slightly curved, with a beautiful bridge that ever so slightly jutted out. Joel was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you had seen many men. The crows feet by his eyes had deepened since the last time you saw him, and his curls had been salted with more strands of white. His cheeks were scruffy with prickly facial hair, but his thick moustache had always remained the same. You gently ran your finger across it, setting your palm against his cheek.

He leaned closer to you, fingers brushing a few stray hairs away, before planting his lips against yours in a deep, sensual kiss. Your stomach awakened with butterflies, fluttering and kicking against your rib cage, before all you could taste or smell was Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

That's all you heard in your mind.

Joel's fingers crept towards the heat of your middle, and he let out a deep grunt of frustration when he realized you still had on your pantyhose. It didn't take long for him to quite literally rip them off, setting you back down on his lap as he held you tight and close, almost fearful of letting go. His thick finger traced down the middle of your cotton underwear. Joel felt the wetness pooling at the front, and he smiled a genuine smile against your mouth.

All for me, he thought to himself.

"Look at me."

You pulled away, his lips now stained like cherries from your lipstick, his hair slightly disheveled and out of place. He took a hard swallow, gently running his hand down the side of your face, burying it in your hair.

"Let me make you feel good."

You nodded quickly, falling back on the softness of your mattress.

He peeled your cardigan off, followed by your dress and his own shirt, and you were left with nothing but your mismatched bra and panties, a picture of perfection laid out before him. His hands trailed down your belly, its supple softness a stark contrast to the well-worked leather of his aging hands.

Joel slightly shook his head. "You're so beautiful." He leaned down, planting a kiss to your stomach, his chin resting on your cloth covered mound. "But you already knew that." You giggled softly to yourself, rolling your eyes as you gently cupped his head in your hand.

"If I didn't before, I certainly do now."

He fingered his digits through the hem of your underwear, quickly discarding them and throwing them off to the side. "Ain't she a 'beaut..... now that's somethin' I've not seen for quite some time." He pushed your legs apart gingerly, face to face with your pink, glistening pussy, open and laid bare for his eyes only. You saw the thirst swirling around in the orbs of his eyes.

Joel circled your swollen clit with the tip of his index finger before gently pushing it into your opening, smiling to himself as he heard your wetness. A quiet moan escaped you, and you gently brushed your thumb against the corner of his eye, staring down at him.

He was so handsome. So handsome. That's all you could think of as his fingers continued their much welcomed exploration of the folds of your labia. Joel relished in the slick coat of your glistening arousal on his fingers, and he felt his jaw tighten with a mouth watering craving for the sweet taste of your cum in his mouth.

He couldn't hold back anymore.

He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit. It elicited a long moan from your lips as you tried your hardest to remain quiet, your stupid family’s Christmas party still playing its scenes just outside your door. Joel swirled the tip of his tongue against your button, his big hands holding your thighs in place.

"Oh, Joel." You mewled quietly, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. "Right there baby, right there."

He hummed against the folds of your pussy, tracing shapes with his tongue, altering between slow and quick, soft and hard. He knew just what you liked, just what you wanted from him, and he had no problem entertaining your wishes.

Joel pulled away, pushing his middle and ring finger inside your entrance, its tightness engulfing him right up to the knuckle. He groaned, knowing how good you felt stretched out on his cock like the good girl you always were, always had been, for him.

"Jus' like this, darlin'?" He muttered, already knowing the answer. Your eyes met his, as he slowly pressed up against the spot he knew made you go crazy.

"Mmhm." You whimpered, holding his curls even tighter. "Need to cum, Joel."

"Ask nicely, baby. Where are your manners?"

"Please. Please. I want you to cum for you, daddy."

"That's better." Joel growled a primal growl deep in the confines of his throat, leaning back down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

If there was one thing Joel loved without a doubt in this life, it was eating your pussy. He loved pushing his nose into your clit while he fucked your folds with his tongue, he loved overstimulating it after a particularly violent and shattering orgasm, he loved teasing it with feather light touches. He loved feeling you squirm, hearing you whimper, listening to his name like a prayer on your lips. You chanted his name like he was your God, your savior, your protector. You chanted his name like it was the only name you had ever learned. And by God did it get him riled up.

Joel shoved his tongue further inside of you, tasting your sweetness, lapping it up like a dog who had just found water after days of searching.

"Damn honey, gonna give me a fuckin' toothache with the way you taste. So fuckin’ sweet. So good.” His voice was raspy with desire, fingers fucking you deep and hard, your clit trembling between his lips.

"Oh, God.... oh, daddy."

"Tha's it, babydoll. You gonna cum for me?"

"Oh!" You cried out softly as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, his tongue swirling across your clit steadily and firmly. You were on the brink now, right at your breaking point. He kept up the sameness of his movements, repeating each step as perfectly as the last. It only took a few blinks, and waves of pleasure came rushing across your body, flooding all your senses as your ears rang with your first proper orgasm in God only knows how long.

"Daddy, daddy, Joel, oh-fuck me-Jesus, oh, God." You had no wits about you, blabbering and muttering like a fool, clawing at his scalp and pulling his hair until his eyes burnt.

Joel pulled away from your clit and placed the flat of his tongue against your folds, slowly licking you from bottom to top, before his mouth rested on your sensitive button once more. He planted a deep kiss against it, making sure he didn't miss an ounce of your dribbling cum.

"Was that nice?" He asked smugly, his facial hair coated and shimmering with your juices. He already knew the answer his question would elicit, he just liked being a bastard sometimes.

"Mhmm." Was all you could manage.

Your eyes wandered down to his remarkably tight boxers, his bulge tenting up against the fabric. "Fuck me." You whispered. "Please."

"So polite." His voice was like a purr, and he shot a cocky smile your way. "Yeah, I'll fuck you alright. Daddy's gonna make that pussy feel real nice." His deep Southern drawl sent shivers down your spine, his voice so deep and raspy. All man, Joel Miller.

He climbed on top of you, his arms on each side of your head, cradling your face as he looked down at you. Your gazes met, and a lovesick smile broke across your face. "God, I missed you."

Joel had to strain his ears to hear you properly. "I missed you." He admitted in turn.

He grinded against you, his boxers coated in your arousal. You felt the thickness of his cock pressing deeper into you, and your moans of want, no- of need- were all that filled his ears. "Want me to fuck that lil' pussy?"

"Please. Please, daddy."

"Don't think I'm gonna go easy on ya' just because it's been a while." He chuckled into the crook of your neck as he pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out with a gentle slap against your thigh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"That's my girl." The head of his dick was pressed against your entrance, and he met your forehead with his own. Your noses melded together, lips brushing against the other, and Joel pushed in with one swift motion.

You couldn't help but gasp. "Jesus Christ. Feels so good, Joel."

"You're so fuckin' tight."

Your nails gently dug into his shoulders at the sound of his voice. Deep, guttural, primal. His eyes were blinded with archaic desire, lip caught between his teeth as he watched your face with every thrust, every twitch. Joel thought you looked perfect beneath him. A portrait of angelic beauty, for his eyes only. Smooth skin, a dazzling smile, eyes full of emotion reserved just for him- he felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to take you just like this. His thumb swiped a strand of hair that had strayed away from your scalp, and he nuzzled his prickly cheek against yours, causing a faint burning sensation that felt too good to pull away from.

“Joel?” You muttered quietly into his shoulder, your fingers cascading down the center of his broad shoulders.

“Y’okay babydoll?”

“Joel, I-” Your forthcoming soliloquy was cut off by a moan from the back of your throat, and your fingers grasped ahold of his curls even tighter, his face scrunching up with a pained wince. “Sorry. I-”

Joel’s thrusts were deep, hard, slow, he hit every spot he knew made you shiver, every spot he knew made you drool and gasp for him. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, the way your eyes would go wide and nostrils flare with every deep breath, the way your tits looked as your chest inflated with gasps of air.

“What was that?” His words were laced with smugness. He was making you feel this good. He was. Joel Miller was the luckiest man in the world, getting to fuck your pretty pussy.

“I just wanted to say- I- Oh!” His cock twitched inside of you, and you could feel his own orgasm soon approaching. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Followed by a whimper that made Joel’s stomach twist with some fancy feeling he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

“For?” He muttered between each thrust, eyebrows knitted tightly together as he focused on his movements, one of his hands holding himself up, the other buried against your head, warm beneath the comfort of your hair.

“Everything. What you did for me earlier, oh-oh! Mmm. Yeah, right there. And-and how you take care of me. How you make me feel.”

Joel nuzzled his forehead closer to your own, eyes dead set on the other, lips brushing together. You felt his fingers gripping tighter, teeth clenched, eyebrows tightly together. For a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t have said what you said, or perhaps waited until a better time, but Joel quickly relieved you of the negative thoughts creeping in, and kissed you with a fervent passion he didn’t know was inside of him.

You moaned against his mouth, tugging at his curls, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he kept his pace.

“Makin’ me blush.” Joel groaned out once he pulled away, nodding a bit as if he were giving himself an internal pep talk before continuing his speech. “Thank you for lettin’ this old fool take care of you.” You giggled softly, shaking your head in disapproval.

“You’re not an old fool.” Peppering his face in soft, gentle kisses of affection, you laid your head back down and stared up at him. “You’re just old.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter how old I am, darlin’. Still gonna make you cum for me.”

You let out a soft moan at his promise, feeling his hand snake down to your pussy once again. His middle finger began tracing circles in your sensitive clit, wet and welcoming as he filled you up to the hilt with his thick cock. He had never felt something so good, so sweet. He figured he must have been the luckiest man in the world, and he knew he was an idiot to have willingly let you go so many moons ago. Joel figured he could have saved you from a lot of heartbreak and restless nights.

Your walls clenched tightly around him, and you felt that familiar sensation of an oncoming high brewing within your stomach. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cum for you.”

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over this dick? Like the good girl you are?”

That did your head in. That was the final nail in the coffin. You had to bite down on his shoulder, hard, to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, your pussy contracting against his dick as he rode you through your orgasm, making sure to hit that spot as he did so.

It wasn’t long until you felt his own orgasm coming in the form of sloppy pushes and muffled grunts. Sweat had started beading up at his forehead, stray curls sticking down in every which way, and you held his face in your hands as you watched the emotion enter and leave his masculine, solemn features. There was nothing quite like watching him finish inside you. His jaw would clench, his forehead would wrinkle, and his eyes would always meet yours as he pushed his nose into your cheek, whispering your name like it was a promise. And this time was no different.

Joel held you tight, stuck to you like glue as his orgasm washed through him, and when it faded away he was still holding you against his hot, sweaty chest, hands in your hair and mouth on your neck.

“Oh, Joel.” You murmured, brushing his hair back.

There was a long moment of silence as he caught his breath. Finally, he spoke:

“Let me take you away from here.”

Swallowing a thick lump that had been forming in the back of your throat, you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him curiously. “Right…. right now?”

“I should’ve done it two years ago. I should’ve…. should’ve known what was goin’ on. If I knew he hit you like that-”

“It isn’t your fault, Joel. I shouldn’t have….” Taking in a shaky breath, you scooped his hand into your own. “Take me anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, and I’ll be by your side through it all.”

Joel looked at you with a glimmer in the darkness of his eyes, and in that moment he knew just what he had to do. He would move mountains for you if it meant keeping you safe, he’d climb Mount fucking Everest if he had to, and in that second your eyes met, he promised himself harm would never, ever come to you again.

In the silver light of the moon that came swirling in through the transparent curtains of your room, he had never seen you look so beautiful. He knew he was in love, as your big eyes stared up at him, full of hope and adoration. He knew he would do anything it took to take you away from this God forsaken place that had caused you so much harm.

He would be your protector, until the day he died, and no harm would come to you under his watch. As he took your face in his hands and professed his love through deep kisses, that was all he knew. You, and the deep, lovely feeling that you would always be for him and his eyes only.

Oh, if only Joel knew the world would be ending soon.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #tlou fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #fan fiction #fan fic writing #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #smut #tlou smut #tlou series #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader

[sixosix]

PLASTIC FLOWERS | LYNEY

i. summary the great magician lyney wooing nine-to-fiver reader

ii. tags 1.8k words, fluff, reader is a little slow but hey that’s what 9-to-5 does to someone, pining lyney, awkward flirting, and a lot of wilted flowers im sorry…

You’ve heard of Lyney and Lynette in passing before. You might’ve rushed past one of their street performances once or twice, or maybe you stumbled upon flyers promoting their grand shows fluttering past. However, today, they are the center of every discussion, particularly Lyney, from your gushing coworkers. They swoon about how charming the young man was to them, and how exceptionally talented twins are.

You start to feel a little left out. You want to witness what all the excitement is all about, too. Your nine-to-five has you rushing back and forth the streets of Fontaine like there’s no tomorrow—and to your defense, with all the rumors and prophecies floating around, it might as well be that case.

Afternoon. Nearly evening. Your legs feel like water, liquid, and unable to keep themselves upright. You’re like a zombie walking back to your humble abode, drained of human life from too much human interaction.

A round of applause has you slowing your steps, your attention pulled towards a small crowd as if struck by a magnetic force.

A young man stands at the center, grinning devilishly as the crowd once again erupts into gasps of awe. He clutches a deck of cards in his hand, the classic image of what comes to mind when you think of magicians. Yet, you find yourself unable to move. It might be your water-legs; it might be how the man has everyone spellbound.

“Thank you, everyone!” he says, and the spell is broken at once. Was it a spell? It felt like one. “Be sure to come next week to Lynette and I’s performance at the Opera Epiclese, alright?” So he is Lyney.

Witnessing his elegance and heart-stealing smirk, you at least now know that your coworkers were certainly telling the truth.

The crowd filters out one by one. You do the same, wondering how much the tickets would cost. Hopefully no more than your usual dinner; that would mean you’d have to eat frozen bread for an entire evening.

“Wait, wait!”

You turn at the frantic exclamation, startled when Lyney is looking directly at you and rushing toward you. Panicked, you quickly scan your surroundings, only to find that there’s no one else he could possibly be referring to.

Just you.

“Hello,” you murmur begrudgingly once he’s at a close distance.

“Hi,” he says back, a little breathless. “You missed the show earlier.”

“I—I did.” Is he seriously talking to you? “But don’t worry! I saw enough. It was really cool!” Really? It was really cool?

He relaxes, his smile turning pleased. Lyney’s gaze feels heavy when you’re the only one holding onto it. “That’s a shame. I’ve seen you around before, zipping through. I won’t let you slip through my fingers this time around.”

His voice is smooth. You find yourself liking the lilac of his eyes.

At your stunned silence, Lyney continues, “Here, watch my hand closely, alright?”

You nod obediently, mostly to conceal how flustered his presence is making you feel. It feels as if his voice is right beside your ears, or it might just be how it seems like the world quiets down for this moment.

He closes his palm. You hear him huff a sweet laugh. You get distracted and glance up, though it seems it was a mistake. He grins at you knowingly, eyes twinkling—his stupid, dark eyes. You look back down, and a flower has magically appeared square on his palm.

It’s a flower you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s beautiful and smells sweet so you find yourself uncaring of whatever it could mean.

He stares patiently.

You blink, dumb-struck. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says with a dazzling grin.

“Oh, thank you, but I— I really don’t know how to take care of these things, and I’m so busy, I don’t know if I should—”

You reject it. Which, in hindsight, was most rude.

Lyney tilts his head, smiling like you’re some cute cat he found passing by—and that gaze has your words dying on your tongue. “I’m not giving it to you for you to feel burdened with the responsibility of taking care of it. Trust me, I just want you to have it.”

You look at him, uncertainty flashing in your expression. “You don’t want to give it to someone else…?”

“Why would I? I saved this one especially for you,” the sweet talker says.

You highly doubt his words, but it’s nice to hear nevertheless. With a bashful smile, you take the flower and vow to yourself to take care of it as much as you can. It’s the only flower you’ve received your entire life.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He lights up impossibly, standing out so easily against the crowd. Just like that, you’re captivated.

The next day, Lyney reappears in your life. You're beginning to suspect that his hat conceals an infinite stockpile of these roses, and maybe that's the true magic: the enigma of Lyney's never-ending supply.

This time around, he’s loitering the streets without plans for any performances, however small. Though, he still entertains you in different ways.

“My work’s not too nice,” you tell him when he asks why you look tired, all too aware of your sore feet and cheeks from straining smiles all day. “I don’t know how you performers do it non-stop. I feel like I could just sleep on this sidewalk.”

“It might be helping that I love doing what I do,” Lyney supplies after a thoughtful hum. It’s still a little surreal having the man printed in posters and pictures all over The Steambird is now casually walking alongside you, but it’s nice. You feel your world has just brightened up a little—the new change of pace painting over the dull back and forth you’ve been living through for a while.

“Hey,” Lyney starts, as your eyes flick up from the ground to him. He’s holding another flower.

You smile as you gingerly take it from his fingers, skin brushing against his glove-free hands. “You’re helping the flower shops thrive, that’s for sure.”

“What can I say? I’m wonderful like that.”

You laugh, but it quickly dies down when you catch a glimpse of how Lyney is staring at you so openly with a bit of awe.

You clear your throat, looking away.

Lyney does the same as you find your face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Um,” scrambling for a change of topic, you say, “Are you trying to get me to watch the show you and your sister are holding next week?”

“What?” Lyney blinks, caught off guard. He smiles lopsidedly as you await for an answer. “No, I’m talking to you because I like you. And here I thought I was making myself obvious.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow,” you say, in a daze at his blunt confession.

That was nothing (that has to be). That was probably just your imagination, honestly—fantasizing about a handsome face, a small braid, and a mischievous grin. And you definitely don’t find yourself lying awake at night thinking about it.

As always, Lyney comes with a flower in hand. And you find out that he wasn’t lying when he said he saves a special flower for you.

You’re not sure how it seamlessly became a routine with him. At times, you wonder if he’s actually keeping track of the roses if you haven’t been throwing them to the trash. You wouldn't be able to deny it; you eventually would have to discard a once again graying rose, no matter how heartbreaking the parting is.

This time, you’re prepared. You've been studying up, like a lovesick high school student devouring dating magazines during your spare moments at work. The rose will still most likely wilt unfairly fast with how you’re barely a presence in your own home; sleeping soundly as soon as you arrive.

Lyney is smiling softly as he gives this one to you, silent. Though that’s probably because you’re raving on about how you swear that the next ones he’ll give will live longer if you figure out how to do it right.

He likes doing that—staring at you like watching a film play even though he’s the one on stage more often than not.

“Do you know what all those flowers I gave you mean?” he asks as you’re twirling it around and counting the petals. They’re still bright pink, fading to yellow at its tips. You shake your head. It could mean anything, really. You haven’t gotten to that part of the book yet. “My feelings for you,” he says. “I give them to you every day so you’re reminded of it.”

Your finger catches on one of the petals, your skin burning. “…Is that what you think? I feel horrible; the flowers you’ve given me all die in a day or two.”

Lyney laughs. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“How else can I show you I’m not just casting your feelings aside?”

You turn to Lyney, wondering why he suddenly went silent. Only then, you see how he has his face buried in his palm, a dazed smile peeking out from what’s visible. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“...Sorry.”

He recovers fast. “Don’t be sorry.” Lyney holds your jaw in a precise grip, keeping your gaze focused on him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s only the next morning do you realize that the petals haven’t changed at all. You’re not sure why you haven’t noticed earlier.

Then again, you should’ve realized when he brought up what they mean so suddenly, that slick bastard.

Lyney sees you around the afternoon, and immediately he sees something new around your collar, probably because he keeps staring at it.

Lyney pulls you closer with a hand on the small of your back, and the other inspecting your brand-new necklace. “Is this…?”

It was a bit difficult to craft your own accessory, but you tried nevertheless. If Lyney goes out of his way to purchase different kinds of flowers, the least you can do is show him that each one makes you as happy as the first one did.

“You said they’re kind of like your feelings, right?” you say, unsure as to why you’re whispering. Lyney’s expression looks a little fragile. “So I made them into something to remind me of you every day.”

He presses his face onto your neck, and you nearly lose balance, holding onto the back of his head to keep yourself upright. “You’re too cute, amour. My heart can’t handle all of this,” he weeps dramatically.

( “Close your mouth, Lyney. You’re drooling,” Lynette says as she follows his gaze, watching you flutter past.

Lyney’s mouth snaps shut, wiping at his lips. He frowns. “I wasn’t even drooling.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind that—do you know who that was?”

“No,” Lynette says simply. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to figure out eventually.” )

lyney went back to giving you real flowers after that btw

this was inspired by me daydreaming about lyney’s character quest and remembering that he literally gave us that flower accessory

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin x you #x reader #lyney fanfiction

[vernons-girl]

hugs and kisses | boo seungkwan

fluff,wc:0.4k

It has been a long day, you were tired and all you wanted to do was going straight to bed and sleep for at least 8 hours because you were exhausted to say the least. You did not get much sleep and barely got any break to have a good enough rest through the all day which resulted in you being in a total zombie mode only barely able to execute the tasks you were assigned.

As you were walking home, the only think you thought about was your bed, the soft pillows and that thick warm comforter patiently waiting for you to bury yourself under.

Your plan was set to be successful but what you did not expect was for your boyfriend Seungkwan to be waiting for you on the other side of the door. You only noticed his presence when you looked up after taking your shoes off as he took in your exhausted state by one simple glance at your face that he still found incredibly charming despite the dark circles and tiredness.

“Hey love” he gently said, a small yet warm smile drawn on his face, “Hey kwanie,” you replied, “What are you doing here ?” you asked, kind of confused because he didn’t told you he would be coming over as he would usually do, “‘wanted to spend some time with you, is all.” he confessed which made your heart swell with love and adoration which lead to an unexpected outpouring of emotions that created small tears in your eyes as you offered him a tired smile in return.

Seungkwan was quick to react as he immediately pulled you in his embrace, one of his hand moving in comforting ups and downs movement along the expanse of your back and one coming at the back of your head to smoothly let it rest against his shoulder before softly placing kisses at the top of your head.

You two stayed like this for what felt like hours and gosh you wish you could spend eternity like this in his arms, man did this feel like home.

“Let’s get you in bed now.” Seungkwan broke the comforting silence, he kissed your forehead one last time before taking your hand in his and leading you to the bedroom. He helped you out of your clothes, helped you cleanse your face a little and get your hair out of your face and finally dressed you in your favorite and comfiest pyjama set.

You slid in bed waiting for him to join you, which he did after a few minutes, pulling the cover atop of the both of you he once again hugged you, keeping you as close to him as possible with a firm hand at the small of your back and the other still stroking your head while you slowly drifted off to dreamland in your lover’s arms.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seungkwan #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan x reader

[urfavoritewriter]

Ghostface Meal, Part I

Content: Male Vore, Oral Vore, Male Prey, M/M, Digestion, Belching, Belly Worship, Male Observer, Male Worship

A commission for someone here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Chris moved confidently through the Halloween party, the dim lights casting eerie shadows across the room as the muffled beats of music filled the air. The atmosphere was electric with excitement, and the room was filled with an eclectic mix of costumes. There were vampires, witches, zombies, and even a few superheroes scattered among the crowd.

As he navigated through the sea of people, Chris's eyes scanned the room, taking in the various costumes with interest. He was clad in a sexy Ghostface outfit, the iconic mask perched atop his head, while his sculpted physique was proudly on display, shirtless and adorned with fake blood splatters. His muscles rippled beneath the dim lights, drawing admiring glances from party-goers around him.

Amidst the throng of costumes, one particular outfit caught Chris's attention. A man dressed in a casual cream-colored outfit with sprinkles scattered across it stood out from the crowd. The man's attire resembled a giant ice cream cone, complete with a cherry on top. Chris's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he approached the man, his gaze lingering on the tempting sight before him– He was hungry, and he saw a guy who made him even hungrier.

Without hesitation, Chris made his way over to the man, his steps purposeful as he closed the distance between them. The man turned to face him, a curious expression crossing his features as he took in Chris's imposing figure. Chris towered over him, his muscular frame casting a shadow over the smaller man as he loomed above him.

"Hey there," Chris greeted him with a charming smile, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in closer. "Couldn’t help but find you delicious in that costume." He teased, intending it as a joke.

The man's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected attention, but a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded in response. "Not the first guy here who wanted to eat me," he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he extended a hand towards the man. "I'm Chris," he introduced himself, his tone friendly and inviting. "What's your name?"

The man hesitated for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. "I'm Alex," he replied softly, his voice barely audible over the music.

"Nice to meet you, Alex," Chris said warmly, his smile widening as he gestured towards the nearby bedroom. "Shall we?"

Alex cheeks flushed with color at the suggestion, but he nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation as he followed Chris towards the secluded room.

Chris and Alex slipped into the dimly lit bedroom, the muffled sounds of the party fading into the background as the door closed behind them. Chris's eyes gleamed with hunger as he gazed at Alex, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

"Ready for a little fun?" Chris teased, his voice laced with excitement as he stepped closer to Alex.

Alex nodded nervously, his heart pounding in his chest as he met Chris's gaze. "Yeah, let's do it," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a swift motion, Chris lunged forward, his powerful arms wrapping around Alex as he pulled him close. Alex let out a muffled cry of surprise as he was engulfed by Chris's massive form, his body disappearing into the depths of Chris's voracious maw.

The room fell silent as Chris swallowed Alex whole, his throat rippling with each gulp as he devoured his prey. Within moments, Chris emerged from the bedroom, his belly distended and bulging with his latest meal. Drool dripped from the bottom of his mask as he passed by a row of photos on the wall, his memory jogged by the sight of the party's host.

"Huh, guess that was the host," Chris muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he continued on his way.

Chris swaggered through the crowded party, his shirtless torso adorned only with the iconic Ghostface mask. His muscles rippled beneath the dim lights as he made his way upstairs, the weight of his recent meal sloshing around in his distended belly.

"Fucking stuffed," Chris muttered to himself, shaking his belly slightly to keep his prey squirming inside. He shot a sly grin back at Alex, who was undoubtedly feeling the effects of his journey through Chris's digestive tract.

As Chris reached the top of the stairs, he ducked into a random room and flopped down onto the bed, his belly protruding heavily as he settled in. He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes flicking over to the door as it creaked open a few minutes later.

A petite man entered the room, his eyes red and puffy from tears as he wiped them with the back of his hand. Chris's gaze softened as he watched the stranger, sensing his distress; The man was wearing a velvet, devil costume that accentuated his petite figure in an attractive manner.

"You okay, man?" Chris asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as he gestured for the man to come closer. The petite man leaned against the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," the man replied, his voice trembling slightly as he glanced up at Chris.

Chris extended a hand towards the petite man. "I'm Chris," he introduced himself with a charming grin.

The man hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to shake Chris's hand. "I-I'm Robin," he stammered, his cheeks flushing as he met Chris's gaze.

Chris chuckled warmly, gesturing for Robin to come closer. "Nice to meet you, Robin," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Why don't you come over here and give my belly a rub?"

Robin's blush deepened at the suggestion, but he complied, stepping closer to the bed and tentatively placing his hand on Chris's distended stomach. Chris let out a proud smack, causing his belly to jiggle slightly as he unleashed a monstrous belch.

Robin couldn't help but giggle at the display, finding himself drawn to Chris's confident demeanor and undeniable charm; He thought Chris was fucking hot.

Chris lounged back on the bed, watching with amusement as Robin curiously rubbed his distended belly. "You know," Chris began, flashing Robin a mischievous grin, "I always joked about wanting to eat the entire party, but now I really wanna fucking do it."

Robin chuckled nervously at the comment, his cheeks flushing pink. "Well, why don’t you go and surprise everyone then?" he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Chris let out a hearty laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hey, it's not every day you get to fulfill a fantasy, right?" he quipped, winking at Robin as he playfully patted his belly. "And hey, I wouldn't mind letting you rub an even bigger belly next time."

Robin's blush deepened at the suggestion, but he couldn't help but smile at Chris's playful demeanor. "You're crazy," he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

As the conversation continued, Robin couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and warmth in Chris's presence. After a moment of comfortable silence, Robin shyly looked up at Chris, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Um, Chris?" he began tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned to face Robin, his expression curious. "What is it, Robin?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Robin hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak. "Um, do you think you could...uh, belch again?" he asked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Chris chuckled softly at the request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure thing, Robin," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he bounced his pecs, thumped his chest, and let out a monstrous belch that echoed through the room.

Robin couldn't help but giggle at the impressive display, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Thanks, Chris," he said sincerely, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Chris flashed Robin a charming grin, giving him a thumbs up as he got up from the bed and began to strut out of the room. "No problem, Robin," he replied casually. "Just doing my part to make you feel better."

Turning around at the doorway, Chris glanced back at Robin with a playful smirk. "Stay put, okay?" he said with a wink. "I'll be back for you, with an even bigger belly for you to be a good boy to." And with that, he disappeared out of sight, leaving Robin alone in the room once again.

#m/m #male vore #male pred #digestion #male prey #gay vore #fatal #male observer #belching #belly worship

[blicketdabest33]

Y'all remember that MCYT PJO au I asked for help with awhile ago? WELL HERE'S THE CABINS AND MY EXPLINATIONS BEHIND THEM!!

#1 Zeus Cabin: Jimmy, Joel Jimmy: He's a Zeus kid, but everyone somehow forgets about it. Joel: He's competitive and strong. Also, because Jimmy is his half brother through godly parent, i get to make a fun bit about him dating Lizzie. And one of his origins in Afterlife SMP was a thunderborn

#2 Hera Cabin: Scott Scott: Scott's whole thing is loyalty. Hera is the goddess of marriage and is insanely loyal to Zeus. However, I feel like Hera should get at least one affair. So now Scott can use peacocks as weapons.

#3 Poseidon Cabin: Skizz Skizz: Poseidon kids tend to be really, really loyal to a fault and heroic, both qualities I think Skizz possesses.

#4 Demeter Cabin: Sausage, Shelby, Bdubs, Stress Sausage: This man built Sanctuary in a jungle and has flowers in his hair. He sells wood. There is no other place to put him. Shelby: Mushroom gnome, spooky mangrove witch, powerful storm witch, i need not continue. Bdubs: Moss man. Stress: SHE HAS FLOWERS

#5 Ares Cabin: Martyn, False Martyn: His planet is Mars, which is the roman version of Ares. He ended Limited Life in such a violent way, i can't help it. He was also red for the majority of Secret Life. False: I just feel like False should get to kill people more often.

#6 Athena Cabin: Grian, Pix, Owen, Xisuma Grian: This sums it up pretty well

Pix: Smart man. Archeologist and definitely a nerd. I wanna see him skipping out on training just so he can read history books. Owen: He likes to explore and discover new things in Pirates. In Rats, he's a tinkerer. In New Life, he's an explorer who wants to study hybrids. In Empires, he's a Llama who's curious about how humans work. Just a very curious character overall. Xisuma: Admin. I'm not elaborating.

#7 Apollo Cabin: Gem, Oli, Lyarrah Gem: She is an Apollo kid because of her Empire in S2. She's the sunlight princess. Apollo kid. Oli: MUSIC. MAN. Lyarrah: She writes the captions for the hermitcraft recap.

#8 Artemis Cabin: Pearl Pearl: Y'know, Artemis could've just like... had a kid, even though she took that oath. It wouldn't even have to be with a guy. Gods can change to whatever gender they want. Anyway, Pearl gets to be an Artemis kid because her symbolism is moon, she loves dogs, and will commit murder and hunt at night.

#9 Hephaestus Cabin: Doc, Mumbo, Tango, Impulse, Cub, Zedaph, Fwhip, Iskall Doc: Redstone Mumbo: Redstone Tango: Redstone Impulse: Redstone Cub: Redstone Zedaph: Redstone Fwhip: Redstone AND has a red scarf (don't ask me how that's relevant) Iskall: Redstone

#10 Aphrodite Cabin: Keralis Keralis: Okay, I don't know why, but Keralis gives me the vibes of a very charming person. His voice is nice to listen to, so imagine how useful it'd be if I gave him charm speak.

#11 Hermes Cabin: Scar, Etho, Joe Scar: Trader Scar, scammer extraordinar. Etho: All i must say is Shady-E's. I get "jack-of-all-trades, master of none, often better than master of one" vibes from him. He's funny, he's mischievous, it just works. Joe: Comedy man. Excellent delivery. And, yet again, i look at this man and go "That right there is a multi-talented man with a habit for mischief."

#12 Dionysus Cabin: Joey, Beef Joey: *points at his season one empires theme* i need not say more Beef: Idk, food. I don't really have a reason. I don't know too much about Beef.

#13 Hades Cabin: Zloy Zloy: Zombie man. He writes the Hermitcraft recaps in the dark at 2am with nothing but pure spite.

#14 Iris Cabin: Katherine Katherine: SHE. HAS. COLORS. and also I couldn't put her in Demeter cabin because Shelby is already there and i am NOT excluding Nature Wives from this au

#15 Hypnos Cabin: Bigb, XB, Wels Bigb: Sleepy stuff, right? WRONG. Gaslight. Go in everyones dreams, make fake prophecies, peace out, and cause chaos. XB: I look at his fanon design, I see an alien, and I go "aha he sleeps" Wels: This guy (@dingdinghq) said so and i completely agree. Something about sleeping in S6.

#16 Nemesis Cabin: Edit: wels not here no more

#17 Nike Cabin: Ren Ren: VICTORY. I don't know much about Ren's story in the Life Series, but I look at this man and see someone who has won a lot.

#18 Hebe Cabin: 

#19 Tyche Cabin: TFC TFC: Man goes mining and gets really lucky. That's it.

#20 Hecate Cabin: Lizzie, Cleo, Jevin Lizzie: Witchy vibes. Also, Arson. Cleo: Arson. She uses her magic for Arson. Jevin: He's a magic slime. Also, Arson. All Hecate kids love Arson.

#mcyt #scott smajor #trafficblr #hermitblr #hermicraft #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #joel smallishbeans #ldshadowlady #bigbst4tz2 #zombiecleo #tfc #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #rendog #docm77 #ijevin #welsknight #pixlriffs #zloyxp #katherine elizabeth #shubble #geminitay #pearlecentmoon #fwhip #mythical sausage #joey graceffa #vintagebeef #keralis #iskall85

[utilitycaster]

look, I know polls are silly and fun and so I want you to understand writing this rant is silly and fun for me but EMON? Emon is the Critical Role Entry for Most Place of All Time? I must call bullshit. And so:

Friends, fellow critters, and people who have me blocked but hate read my blog each morning over breakfast: Emon is not even the Most Place on the Material Plane. It is not even the Most Place in Tal'Dorei. Hell, it's not even the Most Place on the fucking Bladeshimmer Shoreline, which includes a destroyed city now overtaken by bandits, and a cave system that hosts both a rift to the Far Realm and a different rock than residuum that can make a different magical drug than suude. Emon is if you took the aggressively mid vibes of Washington, DC and transplanted them to the inconvenient location and city of refuge for flaky people who avoid gluten for non-medical reasons of Los Angeles. The second Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III invents the motorcar that sumbitch is going to have traffic bad enough to summon Tharizdun. Also there's a literal pit of fire that's been burning for 30 years that both hasn't been adequately addressed but also doesn't really seem that interesting. Like oh a bunch of dragons destroyed your city? Big deal. Draconia got so fucked up it doesn't exist anymore, and at least Westruun has some fucking charm. At least Pike and Grog actually lived there, whereas Vox Machina got a house in Emon and proceeded to spend their time literally anywhere else.

Here is a brief list of places on the planet of Exandria in the Material Plane - not even across Critical Role's main campaigns/EXU, which includes such non-Exandrian places as "living city of people who mind-melded and escaped to the Astral Sea during a century-plus-long war of the gods"; "Ligament Manor"; "Ryn's groovy pied-a-feu, man I wonder what made the scorch marks on that furniture, anyway", and "THE MOON THAT IS ACTUALLY AN PRISON FOR A THING THAT EATS GODS AND IS POSSIBLY HATCHING" - that are more of a place than Emon:

Jrusar: 5 spires no waiting, sweet cable car system, city almost entirely destabilized by goo creatures as part of an overly complicated plot to blow up the aforementioned moon

Bassuras: (literally "garbagetown") Run by Mad Max gangs and everyone is cool with it; regular sandstorms; one of those gangs apparently sits atop a hive mind and NO ONE has examined this (except for them)?)

Whitestone: has a tree planted by one god over a buried temple to another god that was corrupted in the name of a third, shittier god; overrun by zombies but it's fine now; streetlights and two bears that are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want.

Yios: The canal system of Venice meets the colleges per capita of Boston meets the orcs from your fantasies, also there's some kind of kitchen-based organized crime ring so intricate it could be its own campaign (so, also like Boston).

Vasselheim: literally no one understands what the fuck its government system is. Old as balls. Temples everywhere! Temples full of trees. Temples full of blood! Temples full of an old guy who will kick your ass. A sphinx that regulates the monster hunter mini-game. Presumably the giant titan full of the ancient cannibal dwarf city is like, still there, as a new fixture, since I don't see how they're moving that.

The arctic: where teleportation doesn't work, there's a river of lava in the middle of the snow, ancient ruins full of snow globes full of actual people, and the Chaos Bisexual Emerald - and that's just a smattering of what Eiselcross has to offer.

Since this is about space and not time we can toss Aeor and Avalir too, since they once were places, and while we're at it whatever the fuck is going on with the Shattered Teeth and its permanent fog cloud and fish dream cult and capitalist shipwrecked merchants.

And, of course, any arbitrary square millimeter of Wildemount, frankly, has more Mostness than the entirety of Emon could muster under absolutely ideal conditions. But for the sake of one place per region, let's hand it to Rosohna (city of eternal night for practical purposes, built over the Evil God Headquarters); Uthodurn (underground! Giant goats! Elves and dwarves, living together, mass hysteria!); Hupperdook (steampunk gnome party city); Nicodranas (Fjord, Jester, Veth, Marion, and Yussa literally all live there at once; plumbing used to be courtesy of an imprisoned marid...but watch out); and Blightshore (Blightshore).

In conclusion: Emon is boring, nominating it was a mistake, there are literally sealed gods in other parts of the world and also way better taverns, good night, and what the fuck.

#critical role #long post

[sukirichi]

PURELY BUSINESS.

pairing. pantalone x fem! reader

cw. explicit smut, minors dni. creampie. fingering. pantalone likes to grope tits. backshots. creampie. vague mentions of death. reader does illegal jobs. implications of degradation. marking. pantalone is slightly possessive. unprotected sex. unedited and i wrote this in like an hour so agahsjkal

note. idk what happened, i saw a pantalone playlist and now i wrote this. honestly been simping for this man ever since i saw him ?!?!! i’m more of a dottore fucker but like pantalone is mad fine

darkness engulfed the languid town. the bitter moonlight casted a pale glow on the people’s sunken, gloomy faces, emphasizing how the frost had seeped into everyone’s bones and transformed them into mindless, lethargic zombies. such was a normal sight in the outskirts of snezhnaya—where all the less than beautiful people and less than sparkly trinkets were thrown. eradicated. not quite in the middle of nowhere, but exiled far enough to let the outcasts be consumed by the cold.

leaning back onto the abandoned building behind you, you pulled at your gloves. the cold in snezhnaya was nothing to take lightly. you were not a local here so your breaths came out fogged and ragged—merely a merchant of some sorts who would do pretty much anything when it came to the right price. and sometimes, the right clients.

rare as they may be since you hated the cold, there were certain circumstances that made sneaking into the mysterious ghostly territory worth it.

“still cold, i see? i could warm you up should you need assistance.”

you heard him before his dark, tall silhouette slowly appeared from the shadows.

silky black fur rested atop his shoulders that fit him snugly. the sight made you sniffle back the cold as you narrowed your eyes at the man, bewitched by his charming smile yet you knew better that his heart was as cold as his homeland, and his beauty only served to mask his sinister desires. desires that more often than not included in you warming each other up in his grandiose bed—an event that gradually became a normal routine in your life.

“pantalone,” you greeted, pushing your back off the wall and closing your eyes as his lips brushed across your cheek. “i’ve delivered the goods as you asked.”

“lovely,” a smirk paints over his handsome face. one glance at the inconspicuous carriage in the alleyway was all he needed—pantalone never doubted the quality of your service and trusted you wholeheartedly. even if he technically shouldn’t as you were an outsider. at this point, you knew too much about the harbingers’ motives that he should be hanging your head at his manor as a trophy, yet the both of you felt such violence was unnecessary. “though never as lovely as seeing you again, hm?”

“always the charmer, pantalone. let’s cut to the chase. i’ve delivered and you—”

“—must do my part and proceed with the payment, yes,” tilting his head to the side, your brow shot up at the sight of his bodyguards lurking in the shadows slowly back off. “shall we go, then?”

just like he, you had also broken your own rules when it came to doing business.

it was supposed to be simple: discuss the client’s needs, receive payment, and terminate the contract to ashes to leave no traces.

but with pantalone, it was either things became much simpler or your business would tumble downhill. it wasn’t part of the contract that you would be discussing each other’s needs in the bed just minutes later—his large, gloved hands gripping your hips with much eagerness from a man who hadn’t tasted his fleeting lover for weeks now. you weren’t supposed to kiss him back in the same fervour. fingers carding through his smooth locks and swiping his glasses off to the nightstand until pantalone was hovering over you, and you moaned into his mouth. legs wrapped around his waist.

you could spend the rest of your nights like this—rolling around with him in the sheets and leaving your scent in his satin pillowcases. true, there may be no promises you’d ever see the next sunrise with him, but who cared? the fog in snezhnaya was so thick it often blocked some proper light, and you were gone from pantalone’s quarters before he could notice.

that was the routine; one you’d never get tired of when pantalone knew your body better than you did. he reached sensitive places in you that you never knew existed, and the cruel man’s calloused hands held you gently in times he didn’t want to fuck you like you were a whore.

(it may be hard to believe, but pantalone was an expert at making love without love being thrown into the mixture.)

“would it be unprofessional if i said i missed you?”

his words were left muffled at the crook of your neck. pantalone’s hand sneaks under your blouse and unclasps your bra with ease, letting your head fall to his pillows with another guided hand. his eyes not once leaving yours as he awaited your response.

“hmm,” you mused, helping him shed his precious coat onto the ground. the both of you held each other like that, skin to skin and breaths shared into one. your nipples brushed across his solid chest littered with scars that held stories you hadn’t heard before. curiously, you traced your fingers above them, and the man sucked in a shudder before you. see, pantalone was a fearsome harbinger who was not to be trifled with, but you were a different story. you held no intentions of meddling in his business. it was never in your nature to poke your nose into matters you shouldn’t be involved with, but being involved with pantalone alone? perhaps you could look away from the strict rules of professionalism and simply give in to one’s desire.

even pantalone didn’t find it too bothersome to be rebellious every now and then.

“perhaps not,” you leant up to leave a kiss to one of the scars residing above his breast, legs spread wider to accommodate some space for him. there also laid the unspoken question of whether any of you had space left for each other to occupy, though the natures of your careers said otherwise. so you cupped his cheek, pulled him in for a sloppy kiss that was more tongue and teeth clashing than lips romantically moving in sync, and gnawed on the bottom plump of flesh. “i dare say i missed you too—pleasure doing a business with you as always, my lord.”

pantalone’s deep laughter reverberated into the spacious room.

“oh, i would understand why. your pockets must be filled deep each night you travel to where i ask you to.”

“as satisfying as it is that i can have whatever i want thanks to you...” dragging your tongue across his cheek, pantalone let you nibble on his earlobes. you were a teasing little minx—knowing full well it was the small, simple touches that always had blood rushing to his cock. you were proven correct, too, when he grinded his crotch against yours. his balls grazing the back of your thighs and his pinkish tip leaking with desperation; his poor hand must not have been good enough right after he’d had a taste of you. “...i’d rather you fill me deep and fuck me so hard i’m gonna limp my way back home.”

“is that a challenge?”

“it’s an order.”

pantalone shook his head with a small smile. were you anyone else, he would’ve shut you up effectively for speaking so casually with him. he was the ninth fatui harbinger, after all. the only treatment he accepted was that of extreme and utmost respect. but for you, he’d let it slide. he was more than willing to play into your little game for as long as you liked if it meant spending more time with you, yet he wasted no time diving back for another kiss. his hands travelling between your legs and cupping your mound until he was rewarded with a breathy moan.

“if my lady asks, then my lady shall get.”

when pantalone sunk two thick fingers in you, you pulled away from the kiss abruptly and fell back on the pillows. he curled them at just the right spot. mimicking the come hither gesture while his thumb paid attention to your clit, cooing out sweet words to help you reach your high. you saw stars flutter before you then at the pleasure. pantalone’s pace kept going faster that your juices began to pool at his palm, your legs closing itself to shy away from the impending orgasm but he was having none of it.

one strong arm pushed your leg flat on the bed till you were reduced into a panting mess. chest coated with sweat despite the biting cold, you let the hand covering your mouth fall beside you. if there was anything pantalone asked of you in bed, it was that you let him know how good he made you feel.

not only did his flutter his ego, but it drove him to make you feel even better. and when he saw your eyes rolling at the back of your head, felt your inner thighs quivering as your abdomen tightened, pantalone immediately pulled his fingers out.

you were about to complain for refusing your orgasm when pantalone’s lips suddenly latched onto your neck, the empty feeling in your cunt now replaced by a thickness that could only belong to pantalone. you moaned at the pleasurable intrusion. nails scratching down his back and relishing in the glorious image of his back muscles flexing with each slow thrust to get you accustomed to his length—pantalone’s girth too thick that it left a slight sting.

soon, the pain ebbed away with a few gentle roll of his hips and his hands worshipping your tits.

“fuck,” he chuckled under his breath, “you feel stellar. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to this.”

“you should. i’ll be coming back here more often than you think.”

pantalone leaves one last nip at your neck before his arm rested at the side of your head, his fingers caressing your skin with a butterfly touch. once his fingers found home in your hips, pantalone’s lips tilted upwards into a mischievous smirk. “yeah?” inch by inch, he pulled out until only his pulsing tip was left sucked in by your walls. “for professional reasons, i suppose?”

“purely business as always but that can cha—”

with one swift thrust back inside you, the wind was knocked out your chest. rendering you speechless was his cue to fuck you as he pleased—taking note of your command to fuck you so hard you had to limp back home. while the chivalrous man inside of him told him it wouldn’t be such a good idea since he had no idea where you lived, and he didn’t want your journey back home to be a dreadful one, he also took pride at the thought you would be reminded of him with every step you take. your thighs would burn and sitting down would be a menace. his cum would leak out of your tight pussy each time you made a small move.

groaning, pantalone pulled his cock out and grabbed you by the arms. he didn’t give you time to think when he’d flipped your body. head pressed flat on the pillows and your thighs grabbed by strong hands to jut your butt out to him. no more words could be spoken as you let out garbled moans and whimpered his name over and over again, pleading for pantalone to go harder. go faster.

and who was he to say no?

pantalone gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, determined that remnants of your passionate with him would traverse beyond lands he wouldn’t dare cross. his punishing thrusts were what pushed you to the edge, hands fisting his sheets hard enough to leave wrinkles. the lewd aroma of sex filled the numbing air of frost. your loud moans echoed and mixed along with his deep grunts at every instant you pushed your hips back to meet along with his. each deep drive of his cock was sure to mold the shape of him to your pussy. and he’d be lying if he didn’t grow harder at the thought only he could fuck you like this. only he could see you arch your back and call out his name so sinfully like this and this moment was meant only for him.

“how much i’d fuckin’ pay to have this pussy again,” pantalone snickered before delivering a harsh smack to your bum. you did most of the work now by wiggling your butt, body moving forward then backward as your walls fluttered around his thickness. the sight of you fucking yourself onto him was so vulgar that pantalone fell forward, hands reaching under to fondle your tits. “you comin’, baby? can feel you squeezing tight around me—fuck.”

“yes, yes, yes,” you were mindlessly babbling at this point. hands joining pantalone’s as he tweaked your nipples between your fingers and you cried out, your pussy sucking him in that pantalone drew a sharp gasp behind you.

as you came, pantalone’s whole body tensed before you felt his thick cum explode in your womb. the both of you collapsed on the bed; pantalone quick to move to the side as to not crush you while his softening cock left the confines of your heat. wincing, your legs remained open as you felt the cold breeze contrast with pantalone’s warm cum seep out of your cunt—leaving pantalone to rub his fingers on your slit while you tried to catch your breath.

staring up onto the high ceiling, your eyes began to feel heavy with sleep. the heat emanating from pantalone’s body had never been more welcoming, and the calming scent of his body wash was lulling you into slumber. and oh, you could have the best sleep of your life here in his king sized bed and thick duvets if only you didn’t want to get caught by the other harbingers fucking around with their comrade.

no, you valued your life much more than the tempting call of sleep.

“i... i gotta go.”

“so soon?”

“yep,” grimacing as you sat up, you reached for a towel pantalone prepared at his night stand every time you were bound for delivery and cleaned yourself up. legs aching and cunt still reminiscing the pleasure of having him fuck you into oblivion. the whole time, you could feel pantalone’s piercing gaze on you as he rested his face onto his palm, elbows bent and posing like a greek god—eyes narrowed sans the glasses whilst he burned the shape of your figure at the back of his mind. immensely flattering, his attention was, and you didn’t miss the way his cock began to harden once more as you fixed your tits back to your bra. “pantalone. we’re not having a second round as much as i’d like to.”

“i take no offense,” the man offered an easy smile, “this can always be a promise of a second time.”

“you can hold onto that. i might even return in two night’s time.”

“two nights? i didn’t ask you to get me anything—” the knowing smile you wore let pantalone know your next visit would be... less professional this time around. less professional settings meant there’d be no need for you to rush returning back home, and pantalone proudly sat up to plop his glasses back on. “i’ll clear my schedule for you then.”

mock saluting him, you winked.  “till the next time, my lord.”

“i will patiently await you, my lady.”

#pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #pantalone x you smut #pantalone smut #pantalone genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact pantalone smut #genshin impact pantalone x reader smut #pantalone x fem! reader smut #🖤.after dark #not sft

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: An Evil Without An End

Lady Talmere was a monster long before she rose from her grave, having taken to the recreational murder of commoners the way that others of her social class took to falconry or painting. Killing was a hobby for her, a privilege of her aristocratic birth that she could indulge while others were forced to work for a living. She chose her victims purely for the fact that it was easy to make them disappear: her country estates were far from prying eyes, her demanding nature excused the high turnover rate in her staff. She employed those with nowhere else to go, to hardworn by life to ask questions, and when complications did occur it was so easy to wriggle out of them by charming or greasing the palms of the local magistrates .

It was a true injustice that Lady Talmere died happy and of old age, moreso that her wretched spirit was not claimed by some devil and dragged to hell, instead rising some decades later as a mohrg. While most of her old self has rotten away, Talmere still possesses her love of killing and scene of digression, prefering targets that will go unnoticed. To make matters worse Talmere is now prone to reanimating her victims with the parasitic worm that makes up part of her undead corpus, simultaneously creating a new minion while getting rid of the evidence.

Adventure Hooks:

In recent weeks rumours are beginning to spread about the "Tattergaunt", a thing that wanders the night preying on lone travellers and isolated homesteads. The authorities are skeptical and have yet to post a bounty, suspecting beasts or even slavers given the lack of remains left behind. It's only when the party stumble into some of those remains on the side of the road, reanimated, worm bloated, and dragging another corpse that the picture becomes clear.

Talmere is having her zombie minions clean up after her, stashing away the undead that are about to slip out of her control in the hopes that no one will find them. Her choice of using isolated locations for these zombie stockpiles makes for a great random dungeon encounter.

The party may find themselves tasked with investigating a haunting at Talmere manor, inadvertently begun when the spirits of the lady's victims sensed that she'd risen. Unable to communicate through any means other than terrifying vision or violent poltergeist activity, the spirits long to be put to rest, and don't care how much they have to terrify or imperil the manor's mortal occupants in order to get that message across.

Challenges & Complications:

The old groundskeepeper served Lady Talmere in the final years of her life. Though he was only a boy he assisted the previous groundskeeper in all his tasks, which meant he also helped dispose of quite a number of bodies in the first few years of his employment. Riven by guilt and fear of punishment, he'll point the party in the right direction while keeping mostly to himself. However, Interrogating the old man or secretly leafing through his journals might provide the party a vital clue.

Though they want the haunting dealt with, Lady Talmere's descendants are just as prideful as any noble family and won't stand for their ancestor's honour to be besmirched no matter how true the accusations are. The party could make powerful enemies should they go blabbing about the old woman's crimes to the commons, or worse yet the local temple.

Likewise resistant to the investigation is the demon that's been lurking in the Talmere family estate for generations. It didn't corrupt the lady or drive her to violence, merely fed off the injustice of her kills and used it's power to ensure she was a little less likely to be caught. Every body burned to ash in the estate's furnace was a sacrifice on it's altar, and it seemed only reasonable to return the favour by seeding her body with the spark of unlife as she lay on her deathbed. If the party investigate well enough to disturb the demon they will soon find Lady Talmere's corpse knocking on the door of her own home with a small army of undead at her back, ready to massacre anyone inside, including her decendants, just for the thrill of it.

As her life (and subsequent unlife) suggests, Lady Talmere has a knack for escaping punishment. Any time she is slain, her mind transfers to another of her worm-animated undead, beginning a process of transforming it into a mohrg. As such she always keeps a few of her undead in reserve, scattered about the countryside or mixed in with those stockpiled zombies that've slipped her control. Once she's "settled in" to a new body she can start making more zombies provided she finds someone to kill, meaning unless the party stikes her hard and fast (ideally getting rid of her stockpiles before fighting her) she'll always be one murderspree away from cheating death again.

As she exists as an emboyment of moral and cosmic injustice, it seems only right that a weapon of true justice would be Lady Talmere's end. If they haven't already gone searching for divine aid, Midway through their troubles the party is approached by a temple scholar dedicated to the goddess Erathis, who has received a vision compelling him to help the party and lead them to a weapon wielded by a saint of the lawbearer herself. This might be as easy as swearing an oath on the saint's tomb, or as dangerous as tracking down where the stolen relic was hidden by the goddess's enemies.

(thanks @thirdtofifth for the monster stats)

Artsource

#undead #monster hunt #mid level #haunting #manor #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #horror

[the-faceless-bride]

Wasted on a dream...

Imagine: In your final moments you confess how you've wasted your life on a dream, and you figure you might as well tell someone how you feel, even if it isn't the one who is about to take your life... Or... Was.

Includes: Asa (the collector), Jesse (Chromeskull), Jason (the zombie), Daniel(Candyman), Thomas (leatherface)

Asa The Collector

You weren't meant to be in his collection, it was meant to be one of your roommates to start. He was watching for a while and thought they would be a pretty addition to his collecting, a pretty new butterfly... Well until he saw how much prettier you were...

That night he had your roommate in the box and you and the other tied to chairs, he planned to be a bit more creative tonight feeling inspired by his recent catch, and while the other roommate kicked, screamed, bit, and cussed a storm at him trying to get away... You sat there in silence.

At first, he thought you just knew you weren't getting out and had already given up, but there was much more than that... You were thinking about how much time you waisted...

Staying home every night, waiting for that prince charming you dreamed so much about, taking all those cold showers, and wasting all that time... Throwing your life away on a dream that never came true...

When he finally had more on to you, you were already lost in thought. You smiled, your lower lip quivering slightly before letting out a huff of a chuckle. "Wanna know something funny?" Asa paused, this was new. People didn't talk to him... Well, at least not as you had just done now. How interesting. "I always thought I was gonna have a fairytale life, with a prince and a perfect home, and be taken care of all my life... All that dreaming... Waiting... Wishing... And it was all for nothing... Im gonna die, and I never even got to see that prince... Not even once..." A tear slowly descends on your cheek.

You weren't paying attention to anything the man in the mask was doing but you heard a scream and then a gurgle before a bloodied hand reached out and roughly picked you up, and before you could fully process what was happening you were dropped in a closed small space before the top was closed over you.

Asa knew he was no prince charming, but if being taken care of and having a home was all you wanted? He could do that for you butterfly.

Jesse Chromeskull

Jesse had found you; Jesse had just finished playing with his latest piggy and was making his way to his car to go home. But stopped when he heard a soft sniffle, Jesse paused in his moments and turned on his heel. And that's when he spotted you.

Sitting on the curb of the street; tears falling down your glistening cheeks, lip slightly wabbling, shoulders jolting with each sniffle and harsh breath, eyes downcast looking at your feet. Aww, poor little piggy... Looking slightly to the left of you he saw an empty beer bottle, just how many of those have you had?

He slowly made his way over to you, briefly looking around to make sure there would be no witnesses and he slowly turned on his camera.

You heard some shuffling before it stopped right next to you, you sniffled one last time before turning and looking up at who was next to you. Jesse found you looking up at him with your puppy dog eyes endearing.

'What's wrong?' A custom text-to-speech voice asked you, and you let out a small huff. " it's a long story... But to sum it up, I was at a party with my boyfriend and uhh... Turns out he needed more than me... Caught him with my best friend... So much for prince charming..." Ouch, Jesse thought. You mumble that last part to yourself, but Jesse heard you. Jesse tilted his head to you, 'need a ride home?' The text-to-speech offered, and while he was a stranger and if you were sober would have said hell no, you were heartbroken and very much drunk...

You sat in the passenger seat of Jesse's sleek leather seated car, looking out the window as Jesse drove. You were still sniffling but weren't breaking down. Jesse was expecting you to stay quiet for the whole drive, but you surprised him. "Have you ever been in love?" Jesse teased for a moment his hands tightening on the steering wheel, "I always wanted to be... I always dreamed of being deeply in love with someone, someone who loved me and wanted to care for me, someone to have a family with, someone who would do anything for me if I asked... You think that's real?" Jesse slowly eased back up, and he thought for a moment... Yes, he was in love once... Well, at least he thinks he was in love... He did marry her, he was going to have a family with her, he was going to have a family with her, and if she asked him for the mood he would do anything he could to give it to her... Yeah, he is pretty sure that was love... Only she wasn't as in love with him as he was with her...

You softly laughed before looking over at him, "im starting to lose hope... That person doesn't exist, do they." You were no longer asking a question...you had started to realize that, that fairytale was nothing but a lie. No, Jesse thought, they exist... I was that person.

Jesse pulled a U and started driving to his house, this whole time he was gonna bring you to the playroom. You would've made a pretty piggy; hell you hadn't even given him your address, he just started driving and you just accepted it, just assuming somehow he knew where you lived. But Jesse had a new plan as he drove home, slowly turning off and removing his camera.

Jason V. The zombie

You met because of a date gone terribly wrong you went on a date with a 'nice guy' who you thought was finally the prince you were waiting for. when he said you were going to Camp Crystal lake you heard of the place and figured it was technically a resting place and it would be quite rude to just go rummaging around there without something? So you picked some flowers from your garden and went on your date.

It was not how you thought it was going to go, and it all went downhill as soon as you placed the small assortment of flowers at the docks and the first thing your date did was scoff you felt awful for what happened to this poor boy and your date only rolled his eyes at the story not feeling sorry at all. But the large man hiding and watching found it to be very thoughtful of you...

And it was the final straw when you went to sit down and your date started kissing you, but not in a sweet way... Lustfully, and didn't take too kindly when you pulled away with a frown, for a few reasons... The first being that this was still technically a resting place as someone did die here and was still here, or their body at least. And if they thought that you were going to drop your pants in the forest of said resting ground and degrade this poor boys place of rest they were horribly mistaken, and second you thought this would be the place to finally make it official and they would ask you to be their partner, here with the fireflies, wilderness, and the big ol' beautiful sunset... Guess not.

When they started berating you for being "a prude" and making those pretty eyes of yours tear up, they got an axe thrown into the back of their head... You gasped, a moment of shock as some small blood bullets landed on your face you let out a screech. Standing to run but managing to run right into a bear trap. You fall with a cry and look up at the large looming man above you. You whimper a please before laying your head on the soft dirt ground with a small cry.

Jason knelt down getting on his knees beside you, snapping open the trap as quickly and painlessly as he could. Before lifting you and letting your head rest on his strong chest.

It shattered his undead heart hearing you softly babble about how "this isn't how the night was meant to go", " this is where your fairytale was finally meant to start...", and "wasted so much time of something that was never going to be..."

You poor little thing... Don't worry, Mamma likes you, and so does he! He can give you a fairytale, just like the ones in the story books his mom would read him at night before bed. He could be your prince...

Just as long it meant you would be his princex and would give him his fairytale in return...

Daniel R. the candyman

You were forced to do this, the boy you liked and had been daydreaming about had invited you to his house and you were over the moon. You were convinced that this is where you were finally going to be noticed and loved... You were wrong, not a minute or two after showing up you were laughed at by him and his friends, called names, tossed in a dark bathroom, and told that until you said the words to summon the candyman you wouldn't be let out.

You were already crying by the time you got past the first word, it wasn't a secret that this stuff scared you and made you want to hide away under your covers like a little kid. And all you could hear was their laughter at your quivering voice.

Daniel slowly woke up and watched for you to say the last few words, he grew intrigued no one who called him was already crying. It was clear you didn't want this, so why were you? It wasn't until the fourth call that he could hear around him, your soft sobs and the laughter of the group behind the door... And while Daniel didn't know you locking you in here wasn't a very nice thing for them to do to you...

By the final call, you had covered your eyes with both hands and whimpered to be let out... But there was only silence. You went to open the door but were quickly grabbed and pulled away from the door. And he was there, looking down at you. "Now why would you do something so foolish as to call to me, when you clearly do not want me?" And you spilled. You figured he would kill you and you might as well confess everything in your heart now.

All your daydreaming, wishing, your dreams of "being the one someone looks at like your the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, to be loved and have someone be hopelessly devoted to you and you in return, to be the one that lights someone's world with a single smile..." And it touched Daniels bee-infected heart...

Daniel looked into your eyes, a slow tilt to his head before slowly caressing his hook along your jaw, "If that is what you want..."- moving softly up your cheek before moving back to lift your chin... -" then you shall have it..."

And just like that, when you blinked he was gone... When you wanted out you gasped in horror, the group was gutted and strewn about the room...

You were with a group of friends, the group had all stopped to grab some things at a convince store when you and Thomas locked eyes for the first time. He was helping his momma put heavy boxes up on some high shelves when you saw him, the sun caught in his dark curly hair, his eyes sparking a burning desire. He was beautiful and strong, and from how he was with the sweet old lady at the counter he was respectful and thoughtful, which was much more than any of the other guys your age.

But nothing can ever go your way, as you were immediately teased for your interest in the giant. One going as far as to make a joke about "beauty and the beast" taking a jab at your love for fairytales and your dreams of living one making the rest of the group all laugh at you. You knew they were only playing... That didn't make you feel any less silly or mocked...

But you head your head high, "look im sorry im not willing to settle for some jerk who is only interested in sex and thinks he is such a nice guy for giving the fantasy lover a chance, I want someone who really wants me not just for looks or body." I take a gab at the one who made the joke as she and her boyfriend had been fighting about how their relationship was all sex, but she hit a nerve and she knew how important it was to you... No matter how silly or childish it was...

While you were talking it caught the giant's attention... As well as his mother. And boy was she gitty about the whole situation, God had finally answered her prayers... Her sweet Tommy and a sweet person like you... Someone who will love Tommy with all theirr heart no matter what he does, or what he looks like...

Later that night when your group's can broke down and ended up at the Hewitt household, while your friends were taken down into the basement you ended up in a drug-induced sleep in Tommy's bed... His own sleeping beauty...

#slasher imagine #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher #slasher imagines #analeena's slashers #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jesse chromeans #jesse cromeans x you #jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #candyman x reader #chromeskull #chromeskull x you #chromeskull x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #tommy hewitt #tommy x reader #faceless bride's tag! 🪦🦋

[itgirlgyu]

fallen over, choi beomgyu.

🥥 ﹒ ! (＞人＜;)ᶻz ﹒★ beomgyu x fem!reader.

ꜝ ওফ্ফো  ! WC1072. ₍synopsis: during a sunny evening, whilst running away from your daily existential crisis you understand the importance of exercise. and,

sort of acquaint yourself with a charming fellow with kind of slippery fingers, and the prettiest face you've ever seen.

✫ this is dedicated to my best friend @itz-yerin i hope you like it baby!!!

"Don't mind me guys," you choked out despite trying your best to conceal the fact that your lungs were desperate for a steady source of air going in and out consistently, and letting you know that the lifestyle you had chosen for yourself all this while might be the case of being eaten alive if a zombie apocalypse did end up occurring in the near future.

"Go ahead," you were too focused on making sure your nostrils weren't flaring more than usual than speaking in coherent sentences, "Go!"

Your best friend, albeit initially confused but upon noticing and analysing the hunched over cycle posture and the sweat dripping off your body like a waterfall, had taken her befuddled, and slightly concerned boyfriend for a lap, or four while found a nearby bench to sit down to recollect your breath and think over how to expand your lifespan by a few more years.

Battling the urge to completely abandon the cycle onto the street, you lugged it with you as you crawled to the section with the grass, and collapsed beside the fallen torture device. The exhaustion gradually evaporates off your body like dewdrops under the scorching gaze of sunshine in the mornings of june, as a stealthy serenity sneaks in amidst the chaos of your surroundings, transforming all the clamour into a state of halcyon white noise.

You closed your eyes, allowing the gentle breeze to graze your heated cheeks, adorning you with the fragrances of all the florals it has been carrying. The sunshine played hide and seek with the clouds, drawing an array of inane shapes on your face like a toddler, tickling you with its sparkling mischief.

It felt good; it felt fine, despite the concerns that had kept you awake all night. It felt like you were alive in the moment and that's all that mattered. The blades of grass prickling your back, the June sun showering you with its rays and clouds coming to your aid. The warm gust of wind consoling you as well as the slight droplets of ice cold rain—ice cold rain?

You opened your eyes to uncover the mystery behind the whiplash of the capricious weather but to further push into a frenzy of perplexity, the clear blue yonder mocked you as it boasted an expanse devoid of any dark clouds—but the fog cleared up, and the reason behind the sudden downpour was someone's passionate participation in a topic you couldn't quite over hear. The sugary droplet falling off your cheek, and onto the green blades, only to be replaced with a few more similar ones when the conversation took another swift swerve increasing the ferocity of the words coming out of your assailant's mouth—so fast you were even a lip reader would have to suffer.

A few droplets were already a hassle as they dried off on your cheeks leaving a very sticky residue, but you had to seriously draw the line when the entirety of the popsicle slipped from his fingers and hit you right on your face. Before you could even process the piece of ice that was stuck on your face, you heard the man gasp, followed by another gasp from the person he was arguing with, both of them rushing over to make sure you don't sue—except the other one ran to another direction for some reason.

You should be sitting up by now and giving them an earful and but for some reasons, you couldn't—one of the major one being the fact the twenty minutes you actually enjoyed cycling, and the other half an hour you forced yourself to continue transforming itself into a bothersome back pain, and secondly it was quite amusing your main assailant's slightly long shag hair moving up and down from this angle. Removing the popsicle from your cheek, you tried to sit yourself up.

"Are you okay?!" You attacker crouched down to meet you at your current height. His concerned laced eyes analysed your face before fumbling with his jeans pocket to get his handkerchief out, offering it to you, "I am so sorry for this."

You touched your cheek before accepting the handkerchief to dab it onto your cheek softly putting on a show for him—except water and a good few seconds of rubbing the syrupy consistency wasn't leaving your face. You knew that, he knew that, but the world depends on such unspoken courtesies.

"It's alright." You assured him meekly, focusing more of your energy to get yourself off the ground so you don't seem like a brat—despite it taking a little more that what it takes other people, as in like seconds, you were at least able to get your ass off the ground for a few inches when you noticed the concerned expression glazing over his pretty face, "I was cycling for a few hours so my legs just gave out," you lied.

He nodded and extended his hands for you to take, "I am Beomgyu," He introduced himself, and you gave him your name in return.

"I am sorry for what happened! I promise I will buy you a good cleanser of your-" Before the beautiful man, whose name you had just learned to be Beomgyu, could finish his benevolent promise to take care of any arising skin issues you may face, his friend whom you had deemed to have abandoned his friend in need, came running as though he had something important to announce—conveniently missing the laid out bike on the ground and as a result crashing into Beomgyu's back who in a sick game of domino had fallen over you before he could even process what had hit him.

You cursed under your breath when you clearly heard a few of your spine break, with the added weight of two men laid out on top of you earning the questionable looks from every passerby. You couldn't even complain if you wanted to after all it was your own fault leaving it laid out instead of just properly putting it away on standing.

"I went to go get wet tissue for the blunder you created," The top part of the stack, the runaway friend, groaned while wiggling his way out of the giant dog pile.

"And you couldn't announce it, Taehyun?!" The one directly on top of your stomach croaked before turning to look at you, "I'll pick up a tab of your chiropractor I promise."

COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO ITGIRLGYU 23'. FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! PERM' TAGLIST: @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @gyuletters

#txt #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fluff #txt fluff #txt beomgyu #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu one shot #txt scenarious #txt soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hour #txt soft hours #beomgyu fic #beomgyu x you #txt x you #txt imagines #txt headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu reactions #txt crack #beomgyu crack #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together reactions #beomgyu #beomgyu txt #txt fic #txt funny #tomorrow x together funny

[ugh-yoongi]

my personal bts rankings for anything depending on my survival:

seokjin. he's been in the jungle. he's experienced. he's seasoned. he prioritized his teammates so much he needed injections bc he was about to keel over and die. maybe he is scared of bugs but that man is keeping you alive at his own detriment and that's the kind of energy you need. smart as hell and a gentleman to the end.

yoongi. calm and resourceful. knows about building things. you hand him a twig and 20 minutes later you've got a hut. not convinced he isn't the person bankrolling those youtube videos where people build elaborate things in the jungle. in second place bc he seems less loyal than seokjin.

jungkook. hunter and gatherer vibes, but probably wanders off for hours completing side quests. strong and stubborn, so if anyone will get you out of the situation through brute force it's him. would sacrifice you for namjoon in a nanosecond, though, so don't get too comfortable.

jimin. a sleeper pick. he might not be as resourceful as the rest, but by god he's charming, and the other side of that coin is manipulative. you might have to keep you two alive in the beginning, but jimin will con his way into getting the two of you off that island. he's gonna talk some poor bastard out of his raft. he's gonna bat his eyelashes and get some flares. he's gonna convince someone to sacrifice themselves for you. don't underestimate him.

namjoon. he's smart, so he has to have read a survival book at least once. comes up with some harebrained scheme right when you think all hope is lost. he's massive and strong and prioritizes the people around him, but his clumsiness is a liability, so you're probably doing the heavy lifting here. absolutely the one you need in a group, though.

hoseok. will get off that island or out of that zombie apocalypse through sheer force just because he hates it so much. another one you're doing the heavy lifting for, and his screaming is most certainly going to get you killed in an apocalypse, but could come in handy for a passing plane or something.

tae. he is trading you for jimin, i'm sorry. nice end-of-the-world fling, though.

#i will die on these hills

[sweetismyaddiction]

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

 I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

#spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

[darling-i-read-it]

Hi how are you? 😃 May I request some headcanons of RE characters (you choose, i can't choose because I like most of them 😅 ) with a reader who worked 13 days straight and has insomnia so they're pretty much in autopilot or zombie mode at the end of that but are more polite then usual? I hope I don't have to work that many days in a row again 😩

HI yes i can relate as someone who doesn't know how to say no to picking up shifts. my record is only ten days thought, rest in peace my love that sounds HORRIFIC. i chose some guys at random (along with chris and leon, my favorites lol) i hope you enjoy!

Chris Redfield

literally him too

this man has never known a good nights sleep since he was like 21 and even then it was kind of rocky

he has less sympathy because of it. to him it's kind of normal

he works like no one else has ever worked because he cares about his cause. it's a bit hard for him to understand that not everyone does in the case of work

he feels bad seeing you this way though and he knows it

he may have done it before but seeing you go through the zombie nature was affecting him now. you were his person, his safe spot, and you weren't safe

once the sympathy comes it doesn't leave

calls your boss!!!!

on your phone!!!

he's so scary. he's a scary big man. tall. big. large. so large.

they gave you three days off in a row actually

they also mentioned to not have your boyfriend call on your phone again because of professional reasons and it wasn't until then that you knew he even called

you were so out of it you hadn't checked your outgoing calls (and why would you?)

anything he can do to help, he will. just ask it of him.

The two of you sat in front of the TV. His arm was over your shoulder as you leaned against him, more comfortable now than you had been in weeks.

"You hungry?" he questioned, glancing down at you.

"I could eat."

"Anything specific?" You glanced up at him, meeting your eyes. He could read your look. You wanted him to go and get food. He narrowed his eyes, playfully. "It's late."

"I know. I'm being silly."

"Well I didn't say no."

Leon Kennedy

Leon is the most likely on this list to also have some sort of insomnia. He can't even talk against you either because he has the same exact issues

working too much, not sleeping enough

he drinks sometimes till he can't feel the effects of either

so who is he to say that you should go to bed or that working so much was destructive?

despite it being hypocritical, he sees the overall exhaustion within you

you're suddenly quietly polite, you have nothing in you to fight against him, even when he makes his normal banter and you don't return it

that's what really affected him. until you got rest, you could never really be back to him. your polite tired nature made him want to protect you. you were his, he couldn't let you go on like this

he showed up at your work

he didn't chew out your boss, no, he just 'brought you lunch' and then politely demanded that you be given two days off

he may have brought a weapon. it wasn't very good of him but then again, neither was having someone work 13 days straight

you promised him that you would do it for him next time

"What about when you go off to Japan for a month and I know you aren't sleeping?" you questioned. You sat in bed together, eyes heavy, no work in the morning.

"If you were in Japan I couldn't know if you were sleeping either," he pointed out.

"I feel like you would find a way." He smiled, that charming gentle smile. Comforting, homey.

"You're right. I would." You rolled your eyes.

Carlos Oliveira

was a fierce advocate for you taking a day off and is mid contact with your boss

he doesn't care if it was your choice. he really doesn't. he loves but you but damn if he won't let you go through that again

you're so quiet that it scares him sometimes. the life in your eyes is just barely there

he is a bit of a workaholic himself sometimes but he knows how to take breaks. he prides himself in being able to separate himself from that when he can

he tries to lull you to sleep (like you don't know what he's trying to do)

you're stubborn and he knows this and you're also far too tired to admit how tired you actually are

the kind of boyfriend to give you tea and hope it does the trick. to give you massages, make you listen to him talk so much that hopefully you'll fall asleep in his lap

he adores you to pieces. he really does. how can he bear to see you like this?

it's like you're a zombie and not the bad kind. he wanted you to spend the whole day in bed and again, he will call your boss on your behalf, he'll pay for the rent if he can, he doesn't care

he'll do whatever he can to save you from the fate of another awful night like that

His hand massaged your shoulders as you sat together on the couch. You had been silent for a while and although it used to worry him, he was just happy to have you beside him.

"No work tomorrow," he mentioned quietly.

"Don't talk about work," you whispered. He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Sorry." You looked at him at your side. "I think I might lock you in the bedroom so you can get some sleep."

"You know that's not how that works," you whispered, though you smiled at the gesture anyway.

"It's how it should work."

Ethan Winters

Ethan understands better than most how hard it can be to let things slide

he knows that working sometimes helps. it helps the silence in his head when all he can focus on is that he's so tired and the has to work

because he understands, he also has a certain degree of protection he has over you

he knows what it feels like to be unable to feel his eyelids anymore because they're so heavy

the very second you have off he demands that you stay inside

he would rather you be laying down and not moving for a while if he could stand it, allowing you to bask in the quietness

he would make you promise him that you would try your hardest to sleep because he thought that once exhaustion came over you it would be too hard not to

he wanted to tell you about how hard it was for him after the Baker house to sleep because he had so many bad memories that he didn't want to relive

he tries to relate to you about that. he wants you to know that sometimes his bed is a demon in and of itself

insists you take time off afterwards. he doesn't care how it happens but you need a day of rest and that's final

"They'll probably need me in sooner," you admitted, quietly. He shook his head over dinner. He had made it for you that night, happily, some of your favorite foods.

"Two days minimum," he said.

"You're not my boss Ethan," you told him honestly but he shook his head. He was having none of it.

"You should quit."

"I know. But I can't."

"I know," he hummed, shaking his head. "Two days. Two. In a row."

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker imagines #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira imagines #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagines #resident evil imagines

[navybrat817]

🥰 - Send some fluff about a fictional character

Thinking about gift giving with Hal Carter. Neither of you is rich but you gift each other the most meaningful, homemade gifts.

Hal has a cupboard in his workshop where he keeps the things you give him. Whenever he's having a bad day, he opens up the cupboard and goes through the items, remembering how much you love him, and his day gets better.

-Zombie

Oh, I love this so much.

And Hal. Our beautiful, loving man. He wants to give you the good life so badly. He wishes he could give you a bigger house. A nicer car. The pretty jewelry he sees in the shops, but can't buy you. So he goes for a job interview in the hopes of giving you more.

He doesn't get the job. His charm always gets him in the door, but someone better always comes along. It's always the same.

When he loosens the tie, he tries not to think about the disappointment and that he couldn't do better for you. He goes to his cupboard with a sigh and feels a smile touch his lips when he opens it, his fingers skimming the objects. Every item in there has a special place in his heart, memories that the two of you created together. They remind him that he's doing something right.

Your house isn't the biggest, but there's a roof over your head. The car isn't the fanciest, but it takes you where you need to go. And your jewelry may not be the shiniest, but he worked hard to put a ring on your finger.

So when you come up behind him and hug him from behind, he isn't as upset as he was before when he says, "I didn't get the job, baby. I'm sorry. I really wanted it for you." "Don't be sorry," you say. You turn him so he faces you and the love in your eyes is almost enough to get him down on one knee and ask you to marry him all over again. "You're still the best man I know."

His chest puffs with pride. "You're really not upset? I just wish I was enough to-"

You cut him off with a tender kiss, refusing to let him belittle himself and the wonderful life he gave you. "We have each other. That's all we need."

He had you and that made him the richest man in the universe.

Love and thanks! ❤️

Fun Friday Asks

#navybrat answers #hal carter #hal carter headcanon #hal carter x female reader #hal carter x reader #hal carter x you #hal carter x y/n #fun friday #fun friday asks #thezombieprostitute #sweet nonnie #sending love ❤️ #asks are always appreciated