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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 7 ] || [ Chapter 9 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.1K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost is making a move.

Chapter 8: Awooga?

Surprisingly, your one-night stand with John last night did wonders for you. You felt energized all day and made it a point to clean everything instead of moping about like you have tended to do since your break-up with Ethan.

There were days when you considered texting him, neck deep in feelings you couldn’t quite move past, trying your best to stay afloat. Four years by his side couldn’t be forgotten in the blink of an eye, even if neither of you wanted anything to do with the other and had each other blocked on every platform imaginable.

It’s 4 P.M. on Saturday and you’re laying about in your living room wearing lounge clothes, your legs spread over your coffee table, eyes lazily locked on the TV as you fiddle with your phone, twirling it in your hand.

Eventually, you find yourself getting bored… So you decide to open Tinder one last time. You got what you wanted out of it. John scratched that itch… There’s no need to keep it. But it’s still funny enough to judge the men on that app even if you’re no longer doing anything with them.

You start Left Swiping on every profile that comes onto your screen, silently judging each one and murmuring to yourself. You get about 15 profiles in before you find yourself bored of even that.

Sighing and getting peckish, you decide to order yourself something good for dinner from a delivery app. Then, while waiting for the notification that your driver is on his way, you return to Tinder.

You open the DM tab, finding dozens of new DMs from guys and skim through them, none of them catching your eye. If you were in the mood, you’d maybe engage in convo with one of them, maybe annoy them a little… But they all seem so… bland.

Then you find Simon’s chat lost in the influx. You click on it for a moment, smiling a bit as you spot his politeness and excess professionalism for someone that’s on a dating app looking to get laid.

Biting your lip, your fingers glide across the keyboard as you shoot him a quick message.

you: so… are you thinking of ever uploading a new pic of yourself?

The Read indicator popped up under your DM almos instantly, and the bubbles indicating Simon was typing soon followed.

Simon: Look who it is. Simon: Hello to you too. Simon: No, I don’t intend to do that. you: hi, sorry. x you: why not? Simon: I don’t take this app seriously enough to want to show off what I look like. you: was that a dig at me for having a whole gallery? Simon: No. Simon: Unless you want it to be. 😉 you: 😱😱 you: SIMON DID YOU JUST USE AN EMOJI? Simon: I regret doing it now. you: NOOOO pls don’t! you: it was fun!!!! Simon: Alright then. Simon: How are you feeling today?

You’re genuinely shocked by his question and you find yourself smiling a bit.

you: i’m okay hru? Simon: Just okay? I’m fine thanks. you: yeah! feeling lazy. Simon: You had me worried you weren’t feeling well after last night.

Your cheeks warm up so quickly that you even sputter and sit up on the couch with a start.

you: you know?? Simon: Of course I know. Simon: John’s my captain. you: he told you??????? Simon: No. John’s old school. No kiss and tell. Simon: But we were all expecting he’d go home with you. Simon: Kind of an open secret. you: oh Simon: Does that bother you? you: i don’t think so? you: i guess i should’ve expected you would realize it Simon: I’m sorry. Simon: To be fair, I can tell you that you did a great job, he’s in a much better mood. you: that is not the praise you think it is 😭 Simon: I’m not used to giving praise, cut me some slack alright? you: right. i can see that. you: the whole - my team would say i push them - thing Simon: I stand by that. Simon: I’m not very good at talking. Simon: But I’m not a liar. you: i’ve noticed you: you tend to hate being called that. Simon: Lie enough on the job. Simon: When I’m talking to people outside of that, I like being as honest as I can be. you: i see you: sooo does that mean i can ask you things and you’ll be honest in the answers? Simon: About? you: you Simon: Within reason. you: what do you look like Simon: 6ft4, blonde, brown eyes. you: that’s it? Simon: I said ‘Within reason’. That means I won’t give you more than I think I should. you: infuriating 😤 Simon: That’s life.

Just as you’re about to answer, your doorbell rings. You were so absorbed in Simon’s chat that you didn’t notice your delivery driver arrived.

You slip on some shoes quickly and dash downstairs to the front door of the building to receive your food.

Once upstairs, you set your food on the table and unwrap everything, beginning to eat your Nando’s chicken as you try to resume texting Simon one-handed.

That’s when you spot the message he sent you while you were busy.

Simon: Added some new pics. Simon: Don’t say I never did anything for you. Simon: But I’ll take them down in 2 minutes so you better hurry up.

Eyebrows raised, you quickly click on his profile and rush to tap through to the new pictures.

The first one makes you chuckle. Of course, it’s him wearing a hoodie and a stupid mask… But the second one? Your jaw drops open and you find yourself swallowing dryly.

“Awooga…” You quip to yourself and giggle, amused at your own silliness as your eyes trail over every inch of exposed skin in Simon’s chest. Even if that’s not him, even if that’s just some… bloke he found online, it’s still a bloody fine picture.

Returning to the chat, you type a quick reply.

you: not bad Simon: Answered your questions? you: raised a couple more. Simon: Good. Simon: You keep them in your mind for later. you: why does it feel like you’re leaving?? Simon: Because I am. Duty calls. Simon: I’ll tell John you said 'Hi'. you: okay... you: be careful!

As soon as you sent that message you found yourself facepalming. Why do you sound like a concerned partner? You don’t even know this man. Any of them really. Even if you had one of them inside of you less than 24 hours ago.

You don't dwell too much on it because soon there's a message from Simon on the screen.

Simon: Always am. Don’t miss us too much.

Shaking your head, you set down your phone, locking the screen, and turning back to your peri-peri chicken and chips, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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thatsdemko · 10 months

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drought - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!

a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.

he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.

Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.

the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.

it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.

“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.

“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.

“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.

he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”

you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.

his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.

“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.

“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.

he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”

a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”

—

you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.

she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.

she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.

it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.

he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.

pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”

you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

“when we get home—“

“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.

“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”

“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.

you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.

your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.

“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.

“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.

“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“

“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.

“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.

“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”

you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.

“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.

your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.

sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.

you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.

he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.

“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.

“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.

you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

TAGS:

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mcntsee · 2 months

Text

— ★ aim

↳ Summary: Spencer’s nerves are on edge as he anticipates his upcoming firearms qualification exam, yet he remains staunchly resistant to seeking assistance from the one individual who likely holds the key to his success.

↳ Warnings: Self-doubt, anxiety, like one cuss word, firearms, shooting, not proof read and i think that’s it?

↳ Note: This is a reader insert, but, as requested, they call reader “zero” (and “y/n” once.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You could always ask her.”

His eyes trailed Rossi’s hand movement. With a precision akin to a hawk’s hunt, his gaze darted from one point to another until it alighted upon the focal point of Rossi’s gesture: her, standing ethereal and captivating amidst the ordinary backdrop of the office.

“Absolutely not.”

“Kid—“

“—No, Rossi. I’m not asking her to train me as if I were a child.”

With a sigh, Rossi’s hand fell from its previous position, surrender evident in the way both hands rose shortly after in the universal gesture of concession. Under his breath, he muttered something that seemed to insinuate Spencer's immaturity and something else about a crush.

As Rossi turned to leave, Spencer’s gaze instinctively gravitated back to her form, lingering just a beat longer than intended. He seemed ensnared in a trance, only snapping out of it when she turned, locking eyes with him. Her hand lifted in a gentle wave, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Flushed with embarrassment at being caught, his cheeks tinted crimson as he too lifted his hand in a shy wave, mirroring her gesture with a smile of his own.

Days had slipped by since his latest, unsuccessful venture at the shooting range. The higher-ups had been incessantly pressing him to pass the test, but despite their relentless prodding, his aim simply refused to cooperate.

He had spent weeks down at the shooting range, seeking assistance from anyone willing to help him hone his shooting skills. However, conspicuously absent from the list of helpers was her because, of course, Spencer refused to ask.

Lost in his own thoughts, his head snapped up at the sound of heels clicking against the ground, drawing nearer in his direction. “Brainiac!”

“Zero.”

"What's troubling that pretty little head of yours?" she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity as she finally reached him.

He quickly shook his head, feigning ignorance, and assured her that he had no idea what she was talking about. She stood there, her eyebrow raised in a questioning look, before releasing a sigh and uncrossing her arms. “Well—“

She swiftly turned, her hands reaching behind to grip the edge of his desk as she lowered herself onto its edge, mindful not to disturb any of his files. With a graceful movement, she crossed one leg over the other, settling comfortably into her impromptu perch. “Morgan and I are planning to hit the shooting range that’s like forty minutes away. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“Why the sudden trip to the shooting range?”

“Morgan’s been boasting about his shooting skills for too long. I thought I’d humble him a bit, but having an impartial referee there wouldn’t hurt.”

Of course Morgan is. With a sigh, he quickly scanned his desk, searching in vain for an excuse to decline her invitation. “Come on, genius. Don’t you want to witness Derek getting humbled?” she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

And that’s precisely how all three of them wound up at the shooting range, forty minutes away from the safety of his desk back at work.

"Boom!" Derek exclaimed, prompting an eye-roll from her– a gesture that seemed to have become a routine in the past hour.

“Beat that.”

“You know I will, Derek.”

Derek extended his arm in a challenging gesture, a silent “go ahead” for her. She carefully placed her sniper rifle on the ground before assuming a prone position, her left side facing the target. She gripped the rifle with her left hand on the grip, supporting its weight. “All talk and no show, zero?”

She then adjusted the stock against her left shoulder, while her eye was brought close to the scope for a clear view. Simultaneously, she positioned her right hand on the fore end for additional support.

With her cheek firmly against the stock, she started taking controlled breaths, aligning the scope.

“You take too long.”

"Shut it, Morgan," Spencer’s voice sliced through the air from behind them, a reminder of his reluctant presence. Though he harbored some regret for being there at all, he also recognized the potential to glean valuable insights from this impromptu activity their coworkers had decided to partake in.

A collective silence fell as they observed her, noting the deliberate inhalation and gradual exhale. In the stillness, she squeezed the trigger smoothly with her left index finger, the controlled precision of the motion echoing through the shooting range.

“Smashed it, didn’t I, Morgan?”

Before Derek could respond, the buzz of their phones reverberated in their pockets. Spencer, being the only one without anything in his hands, swiftly retrieved his phone to check the notification.

"We have to go," he declared, a pleased yet discreet smile adorning his face, evident since the moment her shot hit the target. "New case in Richmond," he announced, quickly displaying the screen of his phone to them before returning it to his pocket.

Spencer watched as Derek’s hand extended downward to help her up, but just as she reached for it, Derek swiftly withdrew his hand, laughing as he started to walk away.

With a shake of his head, Spencer swiftly extended his hand to help her up from the prone position on the ground where she had been lying to take the shot. Unlike Derek, he actually helped her up. “He is such a sore loser,” she began, dusting herself off. “That he is,” Spencer agreed, chuckling at her remark. With a smile, they joined Derek as he made his way to the car.

Once they reached the SUV, they quickly stowed their equipment in the trunk, with Derek and Spencer settling into the front seats while she climbed into the back, flopping down with an audible sigh of exhaustion. “At least it’s not a long drive.”

They spent most of the drive engaged in lively discussion about the case, brainstorming various motives for the murders and playfully wagering on the most absurd profiles they could concoct with the limited information available.

As they settled into a lull, the car filled with the melody of music and the occasional navigation directive to Morgan. Suddenly, she sat up, her annoyance evident as she glanced at her phone, emitting a frustrated huff that didn't escape Spencer's notice through the rearview mirror. “What is it?”

He waited in silence as she tapped away on her phone, observing as she eventually locked it and tossed it onto the seat beside her. "I have to take the firearms qualification exam," she announced, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m the best sniper the BAU has. They shouldn’t need to keep testing me every year.”

“Well, it does make sense. The exam is essential for maintaining proficiency, ensuring safety, compliance with standards, adapting to changes in technology and tactics, and mitigating legal liabilities.”

With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat, letting out a drawn-out“I know.” and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at her melodramatic response. “When are you guys taking yours?”

“Oh, I already did, sweetheart.”

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I went with Hotch.”

Spencer remained silent, anxiety tightening its grip on him as the weight of the impending exam settled on him. “Spence?”

Her voice jolted him back to the present, and Spencer swiveled his upper body to meet her gaze. "I'm scheduled for next Wednesday.” And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, she dropped the bombshell that she would schedule hers for the same day.

“That way we can take it together!”

His only response was a tight-lipped smile and quick nod before he turned back around to face the road. Anxiety crepping back in, but now, he not only had to worry about passing the exam but also about not embarrassing himself in front of her.

The car lingered in silence for a while longer following their conversation. Usually, Spencer enjoyed the peace and quiet, but now it felt suffocating, as the only sound permeating the air was the cacophony of insecure voices echoing in his mind.

“Y/n?”

“Spencer.”

“Why Zero?”

Despite knowing the answer, Spencer couldn't bear the silence any longer. He posed a seemingly trivial question, hoping it would prompt her to continue talking for the remainder of the drive and drown out the incessant voices in his head.

“It was my call sign back in the military.”

Well, that wasn't the type of answer he was hoping for. He had anticipated a more elaborate narrative, maybe a glimpse into her military days—something that would keep her talking for longer. Instead, all he got was a generic response. Great.

“I know, but why “zero”?”

“Guess.”

"Well," he began, contemplating why ‘Zero’ might have become her call sign, “I know the term “zero” originated from the idea that a sniper’s goal is to achieve “zero error” when taking a shot, meaning they aim to hit the target precisely.”

His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes that were already fixed on him, nodding along encouragingly for him to continue. "Uhm, 'zero' could also signify a sniper's ability to effectively neutralize threats, reducing them to 'zero' or nothing," he added, his voice gaining confidence as he elaborated on his observation.

“Go on.”

“Snipers often operate clandestinely behind enemy lines, gathering intelligence and surveilling enemy movements,” he continued, noting the little chuckle that escaped her lips, a bright smile illuminating her face as she gestured with her hands in encouragement for him to continue. “In that context, ‘Zero’ could signify the ability to remain undetected or ‘zeroed’ in on the targets without being noticed.”

As he finished, she leaned forward, her hands gently patting his shoulders. "Those were really good guesses," she praised, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “but, no.”

Now he was genuinely curious. The voices in his head having long since quieted, as his intrigue grew with each passing second. “Then why?”

“Do you know what “zeroing in” means for snipers?”

His gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer before he lowered it to think about the term. “Yes,” he began, “it’s the process of adjusting the scope to ensure that the bullet’s point of impact aligns precisely with the crosshairs or reticle at a given distance.”

“Yup.”

“Is that it then?”

As he allowed his gaze to return to hers, he couldn’t help but notice the faint blush that now colored her cheeks. “Kind of,” she replied softly.

His eyebrow rose in question, his expression expectant as he silently urged her to elaborate on what she meant by that statement.

"When I first joined the military, I struggled with my aim and had a tough time adjusting my scope properly," she explained, her voice quieter than usual, the blush on her cheeks now more prominent than before she started speaking. "My friends started calling me 'Zero' as a playful way to tease me about it."

Before Spencer had a chance to respond, Morgan voiced the same question that had formed on his mind. “You had bad aim?”

“Terrible.”

Morgan and her continued their conversation, their voices fading into the background as Spencer's attention turned inward. The voices in his head, once a source of anxiety, now offered reassurance. Perhaps reaching out to her for assistance before his exam might not be as absurd as he had initially imagined.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

The case had been straightforward—a series of disappearances in a small town stemming from a feud between two families. Innocent civilians becoming collateral damage in a game of power and revenge.

It had taken the team longer than expected but not long enough for Spencer to have to reschedule his test. He had two days to somehow improve his aim and despite his efforts, he still struggled to grasp what he was doing wrong.

“Brainiac!”

His head, which had been previously buried against his desk in frustration, snapped up as her voice reached his ears.

“Are you alright?”

He swiftly smoothed down his hair, which he had been tugging at in desperation, before turning around to face the direction from which the voice had come, meeting her gaze head-on. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, her eyes scanning his features as if trying to decipher his thoughts before ultimately relenting. “Want to come down to the shooting range with me?” she asked, extending the invitation with a faint smile.

“Why?”

“I would like to practice before the test.”

Might as well, he thought. With a nod, he swiftly gathered his belongings, stowing them away in his satchel before trailing after her as she made her way to the elevator.

Once there, she unlocked the door, retrieving two sets of earmuffs and handing one to him before heading towards one of the multiple shooting stalls.

He watched as she reached for the gun securely nestled in the holster on her hip. With deliberate movements, she brought it in front of her, assuming a steady stance with her feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and weight evenly distributed between both feet.

As her upper body gradually relaxed, her grip tightened on the gun. With precision, she aimed at the paper target, taking a couple of steady breaths before firing. Each shot rang out, hitting the target with unerring accuracy.

After firing her last shot, she swiftly engaged the safety on the firearm and ejected the empty magazine from the gun. She deftly retrieved a fresh magazine from the shelf behind them and smoothly inserted it into the magazine well, the satisfying click signaling its secure placement as she turned around to face him. “Your turn.”

He shook his head in denial, but before he could voice his objections, she placed the gun in his hand and gently nudged him forward, stepping back to give him space.

He felt his shoulders drop in defeat as he slowly reached up to unhook the strap of his satchel from across his body, pulling it over his head with a heavy sigh before letting the bag drop to the ground.

He shook his shoulders and arms, attempting to release the tension that had built up within them as he made his way towards the stall. Once there, he brought the gun up in front of him, closing one eye as he took careful aim at the target.

After a couple of deep breaths, he steadied himself, his index finger applying pressure to the trigger. His eyes closed for a brief moment as the shot rang out, causing his arms to instinctively rise slightly from the recoil of the bullet being fired.

As he lowered the gun, his eyes quickly sought out the hole he had created on the target, knowing all too well that, as usual, it was the only hole that had not landed inside the outline of the man.

With a frustrated groan, he took the earmuffs off and re-engaged the safety before turning towards her, extending the gun for her to take. "I'm going to fail," he admitted with a heavy sigh, his frustration evident in his tone.

Her eyes followed his movements as her hand came up to remove her own earmuffs. With a gentle smile, she reached out and pushed his extended hand back towards him. “You won’t,” she assured him.

Hearing her words only fueled his frustration, igniting a spark of anger within him. “I am. I keep missing the target.” he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. She shook her head and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing his body to turn back around to face the target.

“Get into position again.”

He attempted to move away from her, but her grip tightened on his shoulders, anchoring him in place. Her hand gently lifted his chin, guiding his gaze to meet hers. In her eyes, he saw a pleading expression, coupled with an encouraging nod, urging him not to give up. “Don’t shoot, just get back into position.”

Reluctantly, he brought the gun back up in front of him as soon as she released his face and waited for further instruction.

Slowly, she shifted from her previous position after instructing him to hold his stance. Moving behind him, she asked for permission to touch him and adjust his posture. With a nod of assent from him, he felt her hands grasp his hips, gently guiding the right side forward. “Your hips should be parallel to each other,” she explained, her voice calm and reassuring, “not twisted or turned to one side.”

Then, he felt her foot tap his. "For your feet," she began as she gently nudged his left foot with hers, "you want to stand with them about shoulder-width apart." Once she positioned his left foot, she tapped his other foot, silently prompting him to adjust it. "This width provides a stable base for shooting."

After he correctly positioned his right foot, she moved to a spot where he could see her without having to adjust his stance. "How's your balance?" she inquired, and he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. "Not very good.”

With a nod, she returned to her position behind him. "Try placing more weight on your heels rather than the balls of your feet," she advised. He followed her instruction, adjusting slightly until he felt stable enough in his stance.

After a moment of silence, he felt her cold hand press against the sides of his neck, gently massaging the tension away. "You want your neck to be relaxed and comfortable," she explained softly, her touch soothing, "not strained or tense." Her thumbs applied a bit more pressure to a tense spot just below his skull. "Keep it in a natural position, not too stiff or leaning forward too much."

His eyes closed at the sensation, feeling his neck gradually relax under her skilled touch. "This way, you can move head freely to aim at the target," she explained, her hands ceasing their movement and slowly trailing down to his shoulders, "without any discomfort or restriction."

Her hand gently tightened on his shoulders before releasing, adjusting them slightly so they were aligned straight ahead towards where he was aiming. "You want them to be squared with the target.”

He felt her move to his side, her hands leaving his shoulders behind as they came up to grasp his arm. "Don't completely lock out your arms," she instructed gently. Without moving his body, he shifted his gaze to find her figure, scanning her face before lowering his eyes to where her hands were adjusting his arms. "Keep a slight bend in the elbows to absorb recoil and maintain control over the firearm."

His eyes returned to her face, watching intently as she looked him up and down, analyzing his new stance with a thoughtful expression.

After a couple of seconds, her eyes found his, and she smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. Stepping forward, she continued, "Your grip on the gun should be firm but not overly tight." She then picked up the earmuffs that rested on his shoulders and placed them over his ears before doing the same with hers.

With one last reassuring smile, she stepped back behind him, close enough for him to hear her but far enough to not disturb him, allowing him to focus on his shooting.

“Safety.” His thumb moved sideways on the gun, sliding the safety lever into the “off” position with a satisfying click.

“Clear your mind. Breath.” He mimicked the same breathing technique he had seen her do countless times before. With each inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth, he felt the tension slowly dissipate, clearing his mind of distractions until he finally felt ready.

“Lock in on the target.” His eyes fixated on the target, his gaze penetrating through the sights of the firearm as he visualized the desired point of impact, mentally mapping the trajectory of the shot. “And remember to follow through, Spence.”

With those last words, she stepped back, giving him more room as his index finger rested lightly on the trigger. With one last exhale, he applied pressure to the trigger, the shot ringing out once more as he focused on his aim and followed through with precision.

He remained in position for a moment longer, his focus unwavering as he resisted the urge to shift his gaze to find where the bullet hit. Instead, he concentrated on the target, determined not to let his attention waver. It was only when he heard cheers from behind him that he allowed himself to relax slightly as he engaged the safety.

“You did it, Spencer!” Before he could fully turn around, he felt arms engulf him in a tight hug. Returning the embrace, he craned his neck to look at the target, finding the new bullet hole dead center in the paper man’s forehead.

Happiness filled his chest, bubbling up until a giddy laugh escaped his lips. Feeling proud of himself, he tightened his arms around her, holding the hug for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go, a sense of contentment washing over him.

“That was so good!”

“Thank you.”

She started to shake her head, her lips parting as if to speak, but before she could utter a word, his hand came up to gently cup her cheek, stilling her head. "I mean it.“ he said, his eyes meeting hers with gratitude, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course.“ Her hand came up to hold his that was still resting on her cheek,“I would’ve helped sooner but you never asked.” She smiled, but then her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why didn't you want me to help you?"

His shoulders dropped slightly, his hand still pressed against her cheek. “I-” he began, but cut himself off, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdy.”

“A little birdy?”

“Couple little birdies.”

With a groan, he lowered his head, attempting to hide the blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks. However, when he heard her laughter, his head snapped back up to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted backward slightly, her laughter infectious and filling the air with warmth.

A smile grew on his lips as he continued to gaze at her, her happiness radiating through him and warming his heart. “I should thank them.”

Soon her laughter quieted down, and her eyes met his. They stayed in that position for a while, enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence before he spoke again. “How did you do that?”

At that, her brows furrowed once more. "Do what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his cryptic statement.

"That," he said, twisting his body to gesture towards the target behind him, "I've been coming down here every week for what feels like an eternity." His hand slowly lowered as his gaze returned to hers, his expression earnest. "Everyone has tried to help me improve, but none of them succeeded."

“You don’t have bad aim, Spencer.”

He snorted, his playful smile faltering into a look of confusion as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“Then… What?”

“Your stance.”

His confusion deepened even further, his hand leaving her cheek as she dropped hers. No one else on the team had mentioned anything about his stance before. They had all focused on giving suggestions about his aim, but never mentioning his stance.

"Try again," she urged gently, pointing back at the gun that had been discarded on the stall with her now free hand. "Just remember what I told you," she added, her tone encouraging and supportive.

He felt the nerves creeping back into his body as he picked up the gun, his shoulders and neck tensing for a moment before he remembered her instructions. Taking a deep breath, he focused on relaxing his muscles and recalling the guidance she had given him.

He slowly positioned his body, meticulous in following every single step she had given him. With each movement, he focused on maintaining the correct stance and grip, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. Soon, he found himself taking deep breaths, clearing his head and finding his target with renewed clarity before pressing the trigger multiple times.

When the gun clicked to signal the magazine was empty, he engaged the safety and lower the gun. As he took his earmuffs off, he heard her voice from behind him, “Not bad aim at all.”

He had been too scared to look at the target at first, afraid that his first successful shot had been a one-time thing. However, after hearing her words, he forced himself to look up, his eyes quickly finding the much bigger hole the bullets had made on the paper after repeatedly hitting the same spot.

A smile crept onto his face again as he turned towards her excitedly, meeting her proud smile with one of his own. “I think you’re going to pass.”

With a laugh, he approached her again, opening his arms as she walked right into his embrace, giving him a quick reassuring squeeze before backing up.

As he looked at her, his brain started rushing with thoughts, and before he could back out, he forced the words he’d been meaning to ask for a while to come out of his lips, his heart pounding with anticipation. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“Are you paying?”

“Yes.”

With a laugh, she mumbled a quick “yes” before taking his arm and pulling him out of the shooting range. The warmth of her touch and the excitement in her voice filling him with joy, as he eagerly let her lead the way.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

His steps quickened as he walked from the elevator to the office, eager to share his exam results with her. The anticipation bubbled inside him, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction once he told her the news.

As soon as he walked in, a loud “pop” came from somewhere on his right, and confetti rained down on him, sticking to his hair and clothes. A chorus of voices yelled “congratulations!” as he looked around in surprise, confusion written all over his face, while multiple excited claps reached his ears. The unexpected celebration left him momentarily stunned, but as he took in the scene, a wide grin spread across his face, before he was pulled into a tight hug.

After some more hugs and congratulations, he looked around, a puzzled expression on his face. “What—” he began, but then paused, noticing the smiles on his colleagues’ faces. “Why are you guys so positive I passed? I haven’t told anyone my results.”

“We don’t know the results but miss zero over there was very insistan that you were going to pass.”

As Morgan pointed in her direction, his eyes followed, finding her standing there with a nervous smile on her face. Before he could respond, she awkwardly asked, “Well, did you?”

He quickly glanced down at the floor, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his head nervously as he searched for the right words. “Well…” he began slowly, the weight of the silence in the office pressing down on him. His colleagues waited expectantly to hear his result, their earlier celebration now tinged with uncertainty.

“Oh shit, Spencer I’m so—“

Before she could finish her sentence, he threw his arms up in the air, his face breaking into a wide grin. With excitement bubbling in his voice, he announced, “I passed!” The tension in the room instantly lifted, replaced by cheers and applause as his colleagues erupted in celebration once again.

He suddenly felt a sting on his arm, and as he looked over to where the hit came from, he found her looking at him angrily. “You asshole,” she exclaimed, her tone half-joking and half-serious, “I thought you were going to say that you failed. I felt so bad.” Her words were laced with both relief and frustration, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction.

With a warm smile, he extended his arms towards her and pulled her into a tight hug, his mouth close to her ear as he whispered, “Thank you.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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qqueenofhades · 5 months

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Hello! This is kind of a weird ask, I'm sorry to bother you, but seeing as you're a very intelligent studied historian that I deeply respect, I was hoping you could offer some advice? Or like, things i could read? Lately, i feel like my critical thinking skills are emaciated and its scaring the shit out of me. I feel very slow and like I'm constantly missing important info in relation to news/history/social activism stuff. Thats so vague, sorry, but like any tips on how i can do better?

Aha, thank you. There was recently a good critical-thinking infograph on my dash, so obviously I thought I remembered who reblogged it and checked their blog, it wasn't them, thought it was someone else, checked their blog, it also wasn't them, and now I can't find it to link to. Alas. But I will try to sum up its main points and add a few of my own. I'm glad you're taking the initiative to work on this for yourself, and I will add that while it can seem difficult and overwhelming to sort through the mass of information, especially often-false, deliberately misleading, or otherwise bad information, there are a few tips to help you make some headway, and it's a skill that like any other skill, gets easier with practice. So yes.

The first and most general rule of thumb I would advise is the same thing that IT/computer people tell you about scam emails. If something is written in a way that induces urgency, panic, the feeling that you need to do something RIGHT NOW, or other guilt-tripping or anxiety-inducing language, it is -- to say the least -- questionable. This goes double if it's from anonymous unsourced accounts on social media, is topically or thematically related to a major crisis, or anything else. The intent is to create a panic response in you that overrides your critical faculties, your desire to do some basic Googling or double-checking or independent verification of its claims, and makes you think that you have to SHARE IT WITH EVERYONE NOW or you are personally and morally a bad person. Unfortunately, the world is complicated, issues and responses are complicated, and anyone insisting that there is Only One Solution and it's conveniently the one they're peddling should not be trusted. We used to laugh at parents and grandparents for naively forwarding or responding to obviously scam emails, but now young people are doing the exact same thing by blasting people with completely sourceless social media tweets, clips, and other manipulative BS that is intended to appeal to an emotional gut rather than an intellectual response. When you panic or feel negative emotions (anger, fear, grief, etc) you're more likely to act on something or share questionable information without thinking.

Likewise, you do have basic Internet literacy tools at your disposal. You can just throw a few keywords into Google or Wikipedia and see what comes up. Is any major news organization reporting on this? Is it obviously verifiable as a fake (see the disaster pictures of sharks swimming on highways that get shared after every hurricane)? Can you right-click, perform a reverse image search, and see if this is, for example, a picture from an unrelated war ten years ago instead of an up-to-date image of the current conflict? Especially with the ongoing Israel/Palestine imbroglio, we have people sharing propaganda (particularly Hamas propaganda) BY THE BUCKETLOAD and masquerading it as legitimate news organizations (tip: Quds News Network is literally the Hamas channel). This includes other scuzzy dirtbag-left websites like Grayzone and The Intercept, which often have implicit or explicit links to Russian-funded disinformation campaigns and other demoralizing or disrupting fake news that is deliberately designed to turn young left-leaning Westerners against the Democrats and other liberal political parties, which enables the electoral victory of the fascist far-right and feeds Putin's geopolitical and military aims. Likewise, half of our problems would be solved if tankies weren't so eager to gulp down and propagate anything "anti-Western" and thus amplify the Russian disinformation machine in a way even the Russians themselves sometimes struggle to do, but yeah. That relates to both Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine.

Basically: TikTok, Twitter/X, Tumblr itself, and other platforms are absolutely RIFE with misinformation, and this is due partly to ownership (the Chinese government and Elon Fucking Musk have literally no goddamn reason whatsoever to build an unbiased algorithm, and have been repeatedly proven to be boosting bullshit that supports their particular worldviews) and partly due to the way in which the young Western left has paralyzed itself into hypocritical moral absolutes and pseudo-revolutionary ideology (which is only against the West itself and doesn't think that the rest of the world has agency to act or think for itself outside the West's influence, They Are Very Smart and Anti-Colonialist!) A lot of "information" in left-leaning social media spaces is therefore tainted by this perspective and often relies on flat-out, brazen, easily disprovable lies (like the popular Twitter account insisting that Biden could literally just overturn the Supreme Court if he really wanted to). Not all misinformation is that easy to spot, but with a severe lack of political, historical, civic, or social education (since it's become so polarized and school districts generally steer away from it or teach the watered-down version for fear of being attacked by Moms for Liberty or similar), it is quickly and easily passed along by people wanting trite and simplistic solutions for complex problems or who think the extent of social justice is posting the Right Opinions on social media.

As I said above, everything in the world is complicated and has multiple factors, different influences, possible solutions, involved actors, and external and internal causes. For the most part, if you're encountering anything that insists there's only one shiningly righteous answer (which conveniently is the one All Good and Moral People support!) and the other side is utterly and even demonically in the wrong, that is something that immediately needs a closer look and healthy skepticism. How was this situation created? Who has an interest in either maintaining the status quo, discouraging any change, or insisting that there's only one way to engage with/think about this issue? Who is being harmed and who is being helped by this rhetoric, including and especially when you yourself are encouraged to immediately spread it without criticism or cross-checking? Does it rely on obvious lies, ideological misinformation, or something designed to make you feel the aforementioned negative emotions? Is it independently corroborated? Where is it sourced from? When you put the author's name into Google, what comes up?

Also, I think it's important to add that as a result, it's simply not possible to distill complicated information into a few bite-sized and easily digestible social media chunks. If something is difficult to understand, that means you probably need to spend more time reading about it and encountering diverse perspectives, and that is research and work that has to take place primarily not on social media. You can ask for help and resources (such as you're doing right now, which I think is great!), but you can't use it as your chief or only source of information. You can and should obviously be aware of the limitations and biases of traditional media, but often that has turned into the conspiracy-theory "they never report on what's REALLY GOING ON, the only information you can trust is random anonymous social media accounts managed by God knows who." Traditional media, for better or worse, does have certain evidentiary standards, photographing, sourcing, and verifying requirements, and other ways to confirm that what they're writing about actually has some correspondence with reality. Yes, you need to be skeptical, but you can also trust that some of the initial legwork of verification has been done for you, and you can then move to more nuanced review, such as wording, presentation of perspective, who they're interviewing, any journalistic assumptions, any organizational shortcomings, etc.

Once again: there is a shit-ton of stuff out there, it is hard to instinctively know or understand how to engage with it, and it's okay if you don't automatically "get" everything you read. That's where the principle of actually taking the time to be informed comes in, and why you have to firmly divorce yourself from the notion that being socially aware or informed means just instantly posting or sharing on social media about the crisis of the week, especially if you didn't know anything about it beforehand and are just relying on the Leftist Groupthink to tell you how you should be reacting. Because things are complicated and dangerous, they take more effort to unpick than just instantly sharing a meme or random Twitter video or whatever. If you do in fact want to talk about these things constructively, and not just because you feel like you're peer-pressured into doing so and performing the Correct Opinions, then you will in fact need to spend non-social-media time and effort in learning about them.

If you're at a university, there are often subject catalogues, reference librarians, and other built-in tools that are there for you to use and which you SHOULD use (that's your tuition money, after all). That can help you identify trustworthy information sources and research best practices, and as you do that more often, it will help you have more of a feel for things when you encounter them in the wild. It's not easy at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes more so, and will make you more confident in your own judgments, beliefs, and values. That way when you encounter something that you KNOW is wrong, you won't be automatically pressured to share it just to fit in, because you will be able to tell yourself what the problems are.

Good luck!

#coffeeandcoyotes #ask #school stuff #critical thinking

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pneuma-themes · 1 year

Text

Theme #07: Clio by @pneuma-themes

Where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow.

Live Preview (Temporary) / Static Preview: [Index] [Permalink] / Get the code: [pastebin] [github]

This is intended to be a fansite! I am finally happy with how this turned out after a few iterations. This theme features Emet-Selch from Final Fantasy XIV. Be warned going into the live preview as this theme heavily features content that can be found on various points of Shadowbringers and Endwalker, which may or may not be a spoiler!

Features:

Customizable post widths and font sizes. The live preview uses 650px post width and 13px font size. Enter the desired post width on the post width field and the desired font size on the font size field on the Customization page.

One accent color, 7 color options

Option for title alignment (centered/lefthand side/righthand side) to accommodate for the chosen header image.

Option to display or hide the blog title.

Built-in dual sidebar layout. All the boxes on the sidebar (members, events, updates, and site info) and the footer (disclaimer, about, and search box) can be edited from the code directly.

5 custom links at the topbar with additional 8 links on the navigation box.

Customizable photoset gutter. The live preview uses 10px gutter.

A header image. The size of the header (w x h) is the width of your screen x 350px. So if your screen width is 1900px, then the size of your header should be 1900 x 350px.

Notes:

This theme uses @eggdesign's NPF reverse-compatible template. Everything should be working as expected, except for some things noted below.

As we slowly transition into the new editor, posts made by the legacy editor will eventually break. This is particularly evident in a quote post reblogged via the new editor, in which the post will be rendered as a text post with blockquote and cannot be styled similarly to a legacy quote post. This is a Tumblr bug as far as I am concerned and from what other people have told me, so unfortunately there is nothing I can do about it.

I've written a short guide on how to set up this theme here. Everything else is annotated in the code, so do read through them before shooting me an ask!

Credits:

NPF reverse-compatible template: @eggdesign

Header: ユズリコ❂ (yuzuriko_red @ Twitter)

Icon font: Phosphor Icons

Icons (affiliates, members) and toggle tags on click: @alydae

Fonts: Nunito, Merriweather @ Google Fonts

customAudio.js: @annasthms

photoset.css with lightbox: @annasthms and @eggdesign

Search box, minified spotify player: @glenthemes

Toggle-able tumblr controls: @seyche

Shorten note count: @shythemes

Responsive video script: @nouvae

Please like and reblog if you like this theme or are using it!

#themehunter #allresources #chaoticresources #completeresources #*theme: clio #*mine: theme #*mine: all #still ugly crying over emet-selch and hythlodaeus and azem

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captainsarahscratches · 3 months

Note

Can we get some head cannons with Kenny omega x younger gf reader. Like reader is 27 and AEW womens champ. Something about protective Kenny

Kenny constantly hears jokes about him babysitting his girl, but he doesn't care because he's happier than he's ever been

You constantly hear comments from the other girls that you only have the title because you fuck the EVP.

Kenny hates these comments and wants to put them in their place but you calm him down and tell him it doesn't bother you. It does, but you tell him otherwise, because deep down you know he didn't have anything to do with your title.

They make jokes about him robbing the cradle, and you having daddy issues. But the two of you just laugh along, because you both know it's nothing of the nature. You two just click, and in your industry, with your scheduleds, it's rare when two people understand each other and blend the way you and Kenny do.

Kenny trains with you and it brings a smile to your face because to you it's like getting paid to be with your favorite person.

He loves it because he gets to be close to you and share something that he loves with the one he loves, even though he hasn't told you yet.

He tends to get a little more handsy when he's training with youm but you never seem to mind.

To throw him off his game, you tend to whisper "harder, daddy" when he has you in a choke hold. This gets him flustered, and gives you a n opportunity to counter him when he wasn't intending that to happen. He can't help but be a little proud when you pull that one.

When you go home, Kenny always makes sure you get into your apartment safely, but on days you've been teasing him in the ring. He tends to stay a little longer.

At your fridge you bend over to grab a cold bottle of water, and you feel him behind you. His waist against yours, his hands tracing up your back and into your hair.

"What baby, I thought you said harder?" you cant help but moan in delight, "Oh still not hard enough?" he says as he smack your ass.

In seconds, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he carries you to the edge of your own bed. Throwing you roughly onto the mattress.

"You think you can be a tease all damn day and think I'm not going to do anything about it, huh? You're lucky I didn't fuck you right there in front of everyone in the gym. Let them all see how good of a little slut you can be."

You giggle, knowing you're getting under his skin, "yeah, and then prove to him that i really am the old man's good little girl." The growl that leaves him sets you a blaze, and you don;'t even have time to react as he pounds into your body. Not a care towards your own pleasure, just his own release. but you didn't care, because the animalistic fucking he's giving you brings you over the edge twice over before he even begins to unravel inside you.

"Fuck, FUCK Y/N God damnit your going to make me cum!"

"Cum for me daddy, please. I need it Kenny I need you to-"

"FUCKKK" He floods your body as he continues to thrust inside you until he can't take it any longer.

Rolling over onto the opposite side of the bed, You rolling to meet him, head on his chest.

"God babe, fuck. I love when you let me take over like that." " I love it too."

"I love you, too" he said, kissing your forehead.

You pick up your head look him the eye, he looks nervous, not meaning to let that slip in this setting. He searches your face for a hint of anger, or remorse.

You grin uncontrollably, kissing him deeply. Rolling ontop of him, straddling his lap. "I love you too, Kenny."

He smiles, and kisses you passionately. Flipping you over onto your back, his cock hard against your body again, his mouth firmly on your neck.

Trailing kisses up to your ear, in a low gravely voice

"Let's see how many times, this 'old man' can make you cum in a day. What's my record again, five? Child's play, you better cancel whatever you had planned this week. You won't be able to walk anywhere"

#kenny omega #aew fanfiction #kenny omega smut #kenny omega x reader #the elite #bullet club #aew imagine #kenny omega imagine #aew #aew smut

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jessiarts · 1 year

Text

Too many people are willfully misunderstanding why artists are protesting AI art right now.

All they hear is "Artists are mad at fun new tool and scared it will replace them, so they're trying to take it away from us!!"

Artists are not protesting the tool itself. Many even like the concept of the AI tools, believe it or not.

We are protesting that it takes and uses our work without our consent and without any compensation, all while the companies behind the tool are making loads of money off this practice.

We're fighting for regulation of the tool. Not only does it scrape work created by artists into it's database without the artist's permission, private medical photos have also been found in these datasets. None of that is ok.

From the start this tool should have only been fed images in the public domain, and any artist work fed to it should have come from artists who have consented to it and who were then also compensated whenever their work was used by the AI tool. There's also other issues like:

Sites like ArtStation and DeviantArt refusing to place AI in it's own category to separate it from human made art. Just like traditional and digital art get separate categories, so should AI generated art. (Also some are trying to hide when they generated something from AI and try to pass it off as done by their own hand??? If you believe it's 'just another tool,' why are you trying to hide it???);

How DA tried to pull a fast one and first made AI scraping an opt-out function and said that dead artists work would be scraped because they weren't alive to tell them no;

How the companies behind the tools are knowingly making money off the AI scraping artist work without artist consent;

People are selling AI art with no regard that their generated image likely contains work that another artist created;

Etc.

"But humans take inspiration from other artists all the time! The AI is just doing the same thing!"

First off, it's not. And I don't even mean that in a "AI art is soulless and can never be the same as Human Art!" way or anything.

I just mean these "AI" tools aren't 'true AI' like how you're thinking. They're no Hal3000 that actually make decisions on their own. They're algorithms programed by humans to search the acquired database and photomash together a product based on a prompt. They're not actually becoming 'inspired' by anything. (And it's not insulting the tool to say this either!)

And that's not even the point, but let's pretend for a just minute that what AI Art programs do is the same as a human taking inspiration- Even humans are not allowed to take too much of another artists idea/work with the intent to profit without getting in trouble. Even if that 'profit' is just internet clicks, people very much still do get mad at other humans for copying another artist's work and trying to pass it off as their own.

And that is what's happening with a lot of generated art. It will spit out pieces very similar or nearly identical to another artist's work and will often even include artist's signatures or watermarks in the product. Because it just photomashes, essentially. (Again, not a dig!)

And I'm not knocking photomashing, it is used in the industry. And I bet most artists are actually fine with the concept of a photomashing tool. However, even when humans in the industry use photomashing, they have to use their own photos, public domain photos, or have permission of the owner to use the photos they intend to photomash with. And we sure as hell are not allowed to use someone's private medical photos in our work either.

We're only asking that the work generated by AI Art programs follow these same standards. Again, we're only fighting for regulation, not to take this "new fun tool" from you.

But unfortunately that's all some who are already enamored with the idea of AI Art are willing to hear from our arguments.

It's easier to just believe that artists are simply "afraid of change" or "afraid of being obsolete" and are trying to rain on your fun than to look at our arguments and concede that, "Hey, maybe this tool was implemented in a bad way. Maybe artists do deserve the basic respect of being allowed to consent to their work being used to train AI, and to being compensated by the company behind the tool if their work is used. Maybe we should look into more ethical ways of implementing this new tool."

No one seems to realize that artists would not be fighting this tool if it was done right from the start and didn't just outright take our work to train the AI without our permission. Hell, artists release stuff to help teach/'train' other human artists all the time! We release full tutorials, stock images, even post finished art for people to use for free sometimes!

The difference is that when we do, we consented to do so. It wasn't just ripped from our hands by people who felt entitled to our labor for their own gain.

We're not trying to take away your fun new tools! We're only asking that your new tool does not come at the expense of abusing us!

I really don't think that's a hard ask.

#I'm worried that the link will hide this in the tags #so maybe reblog to spread this?#ai art debate #art theft #ai #ai art #no ai art #noai #ai art generation #stable diffusion #ai art generator #anti ai art #do better ai #support human artists #photomash

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Blind Offer 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: I've been feeling a bit off lately so thank you all for distracting me. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

After closing, you’re due for an opening shift. The abrupt shift in your schedule leaves you little off-time but right on the other side, you have a much needed day off. You’re relieved not to be left to think too much in the unfamiliar house and hopeful that by the time your time off comes, your apartment will be ready for your return.

That morning, you’re running on coffee and the promise of the cinnamon bun you bought on your way in. You work through the price changes in the digital imaging section. The cameras are the biggest pain as you have to unlock the cases to replace the old tags.

You get to the Sony section and end up on your knees, fighting the glass door as it rolls off the track. The podcast buzzing in your ear fades as your frustration gets the best of you. You lean back, your shoulder brushing against an unexpected presence behind you.

You wince and pop your earbud out, craning to look over your shoulder at the man browsing cameras past you. His eyes meet yours with a twinkle as he points to the case, “you know much about these?”

You shake your head, “sorry.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks, the expression made devious by the trim of dark blond across his lip. He squats down beside you, “nah? I was looking for a starter camera but I need something with strong range.”

You nod and force a smile, “um, well, these are pretty basic, I think. They don’t have any extra lenses,” you look around, searching for one of the DI salesmen, “I could find someone–”

“I’m asking for your help, honeybun,” he coos, “what’s the zoom on these things?”

You feel heat speck on your forehead and cheeks. You’re not the best with customers. It’s easy enough if they know what they’re looking for but you’re useless with telling them what they need. You turn back and grab one of the small boxes. You turn it over and read the specs.

“Uh… 30x zoom…” you say, “I guess that’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue, “I’m looking for something stronger. Stronger’s always better, isn’t it, sugarpie?”

His strange pet names put you off. Some old ladies will call you hon and some old men will call you young lady, but he’s a lot younger and not as endearing. You put the camera back and look along the row.

“Yeah, I think maybe you need to look at the bigger cameras,” you point over the case, “they’re along that wall–”

“You like it bigger?” He intones with a snicker, “you a size queen?”

You recoil, taken aback by his suggestion. Ew. You shake your head and turn back to the case, “sorry, sir, I don’t know anything about cameras. I’ll see if I can get a salesman over here.” You grab the wire of your headset and hit the button, “can I get someone over to DI?”

You let go of the button as the earpiece crackles. The man doesn’t move, “you know, I don’t mind a little extra. Especially in the trunk.”

You ignore him as you peel away the fresh stickers and press them to the front of the shelves. The heat of his lingering figure has you unable to get your fingernail under the corner of a label. You want to run and hide in the warehouse. You’re just too nervous to tell him to go away, Gwen would write you up.

“Hey,” Jamie appears from the other end of the aisle, “looking for a camera, sir?”

The man behind you doesn’t stand right away. When he does, he reaches close to you, gripping the top of the case to push himself up to his feet. You turn and mouth a thank you to Jamie as he gives a long look at the man behind you.

“Sure am,” the customer brushes by you closely. You watch the back of his head, shaved close around the sides, the top pieces longer and slicked back neatly. He walks with a certain lean to his step, his shoulders squared, his gait confident but casual. He gives you the ick.

You focus on your sheet of price changes. He’s not your problem anymore. You just hope you can through that section before he finds what he’s looking for. You somehow suspect he’s in no hurry to leave.

🖤

You get back to the townhouse just after five. It’s later than you usually get in but you’re just happy to be done. You haven’t been able to shake that feeling that’s followed you all day. Ever since that man approached you in the store, you’ve felt as if you’re being watched.

You walk the block and a half from the nearest stop and turn onto the quiet street of newly built townhouses. Despite the sighting of a neighbour, it still feels derelict. You check the number beside the door as you head up the walk to the doorstep. As you do, you hear a whistle.

You stop and turn back as you hear footsteps approaching. It’s only then you notice the white van parked along the far curb. A man runs over in a blue uniform with a box under his thick arm. Burly and broad, you almost cower as he waves and approaches.

“You live here?” he asks as his eyes flick up to the iron numbers mounted besides the door, “number four?”

“Um, I’m… crashing here, yeah,” you swallow, “it’s actually not my place–”

“I got a package,” he shifts the parcel and reads the label.

You can just see his features beneath the shadow of his cap brim, long lashes, square jaw, a touch of stubble and a thick mustache across his lip. You hate that those are making a comeback. You shiver as it reminds you of the man in the store, but this man has darker hair, a curl poking out from his hate.

“For Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah, erm, that’s my landlord. This is his place,” you point over your shoulder with the thumb.

“Right, well, it doesn’t need a signature, so if you could pass it off to him.”

“I don’t know–”

“I don’t really feel like driving back out here tomorrow. This isn’t my route,” he says tersely.

You snap your mouth shut. Wow, okay. You shrug and reach out to take the box.

“Sure, I can get it to him. Sorry.”

“Thanks,” he hands it over and looks back and forth down the street, “quiet neighbourhood, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess… just finished development so–”

“Fancy places. Expensive,” he continues on, “your landlord must really like you.”

You frown and hug the package, “uh, he’s nice. Anyway, I’m sure you got other deliveries to make.”

He scoffs as you turn away. You’re succinctly aware of him as you move your body to block the code as you punch it in.

“Too good for the delivery boy,” he mutters darkly, “have a good day, miss fancy pants.”

“Have a good day,” you squeak and push your way into the townhouse, spinning to shut the door.

You twist the latch as you lean on the door. You slowly lean over and peek past the curtain. The delivery man smirks at the barrier between you before turning and strolling back the way he came. You shudder and turn to put the box down. You really thought for a moment he might try to follow you inside.

You shake out your nerves. It’s just been a really weird day. Well, few days.

You pull out your phone and text Steve to let him know he got a package. You put your cell on the counter as you enter the kitchen. You planned on ordering food to celebrate your coming day off but it’s too much trouble dealing with another stranger.

You go through the fridge and cupboards and settle on the bag of hand rolled tortellini with the jar of alfredo. You’re no expert chef but you can follow instructions. It’s a quick enough dinner. You eat it at the table against the wall, a video playing on your phone.

A notification pops up at the top of the screen, Steve saying thanks. You don’t bother replying but another flips up in quick succession. ‘How is everything?’

You finish your pasta before you reply. You rinse your dishes and leave them in the rack. You take the phone upstairs, typing as you climb.

‘Doing fine. Everything’s well. Thanks for checking in.’

Easy and to the point. You don’t want to have some stunted text chat with your landlord, you don’t even want to talk to your friends, you’ve been dying all week to try the bathtub.

You turn on the faucet and the water spills out, steam quickly rising as you adjust the temperature. You go to the counter and search your pouch for your body scrub. You pause as you find it empty. Weird.

You look around. Your toothbrush is in the cup and your toothpaste and mouthwash on the small shelf that holds it. Where is everything else? You check the drawer, your face creams and cleanser are all there. Even your deodorant and body lotion.

You peek at the tub and see your jar of scrub already sitting on the sharp edge brim. You don’t remember putting all that away. Why would you? You’re not going to be here forever. You don’t know, you were so tired that morning, you can’t even remember brewing your coffee.

You blow out the tension. Stop worrying. It’s fine. It’s little things that you’re overthinking. As usual.

You undress and leave your clothes on the counter. You approach the tub and lower yourself down with a sigh. Oh yeah, this is living. The tub is nice and big, you don’t feel crammed in like your own place. You better enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

The bedroom becomes a haven in the large house. You go downstairs in search of snacks, planning to veg out a bit before you inevitably fall asleep watching Youtube commentary videos. You find some trail mix with M&Ms mixed in it but are disappointed to discover a dearth of carbonated beverages in the fridge. You opt for the tropical twist juice in the sleek glass bottle.

You retreat with your meagre haul and create a nest in the bed. You grab your phone and flip past the several notifications waiting on the home screen. You scroll through Youtube until you land on something suitably dramatic. You pull down the taskbar and flick away several notifs.

Steve’s message is the last. It kinda creeps you out but the time stamp assures you it’s merely a coincidence. ‘I bought some snacks. Hope you found them. Wasn’t sure what you liked.’

You resist clicking on the bubble and swipe it away with the rest. You don’t want to leave him on read and you don’t think he’d appreciate your response. Granola and coconut water aren’t much of a snack.

You shimmy down under the covers and prop up your phone on the bedside table. You lean into the pillow and lazily munch, Your mind wanders away from the petty online drama. Work, your apartment, several strange encounters… hopefully life calms down soon. You mind your business, you don’t need the trouble. You prefer to be a witness, not an active participant.

You drain the last of the juice as the mix of almonds, peanuts, and cranberries leaves your mouth dry. You get up to brush your teeth as you listen through the open door to the edited clips from TikTok. As you come back to bed, you feel the day catch up to you.

You yawn and shut off the light. Ugh, you’re so suddenly tired. It’s not unusual to be wiped after clopening but damn, you’ve never felt this heavy. You pull the blanket up to your chin and your phone screen blurs in your eyes. You let the low drone ease you down to sleep.

It’s as if no time passes at all. No dreams, no awareness, just a thick void that makes your head hurt. You wake with a start.

Your phone gleams from beside you but Youtube is no longer open. The light is on, blaring in your vision as you sit up. Jeez, you must be totally zonked. You probably got up to go pee and don’t even remember.

You reach for your phone and check the time. It’s just after midnight. An hour or two since you passed out. The blanket falls away from your shoulders and you look down at the cold wash across your chest. The straps of your tank top droop down your arms as the fabric is wrinkled below your tits as they hang out.

You fix your top, it’s not unusual. You’ve woken up more times than you count with your shirt all twisted. It’s why you never had roommates. You shove the blanket further down, your shorts are askew as well, caught in the crease of thigh and pelvis. You fish around to tug the loose opening free and find it damp. Ugh, you’re sweating from your little cocoon of body warmth.

You push yourself towards the edge and pause. You feel oddly sensitive, almost raw. You rise and stretch, reaching down to check yourself. You’re wet. Like really wet. You must’ve had some wild dreams but you can’t remember any of them.

You take your cell to the bathroom with you and relieve yourself. You pull up your cycle tracking app. Ah, first day of ovulation. Horny time.

You come back to the bedroom and burrow back under the blankets. As you wiggle down, you feel something roll against you. You put your phone beside your pillow and snake your hand around to grab the tiny cylinder. You raise the small bullet vibrator and frown. Wasn’t that in your beauty bag?

You place it on the night table and take your phone. Well, you seem to be pretty absent-minded lately. First your toiletries, now this. You’ll have to do a sweep of the house tomorrow and make sure you have everything together. You won’t be there much longer.

Still, you’re unsettled by the momentary lapse in consciousness, but your lingering grogginess keeps you from panicking. You’ll just put on another video. It should distract you enough to calm you down.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve roger #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #blind offers #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #multifandom

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joojeans · 9 months

Note

Hello it's meeee again!

First of all, I'm glad you liked the lil blurb hahaha

second! now I'd like to request!

So let's say Hyung line and female reader are best friends that have always been strictly platonic, but one day it just happens to be a lot of unusual tension and they end up making out and being surprised about it themselves.

How would it be?❤️

ugh i’m such a sucker for a besties with sexual tension moment 💔

all of these could/should be full fics but for the sake of including all four of them 🥹

&team hyung line: suddenly making out w/ their best friend

k: you can sense the annoyance in k’s aura. his tone, his flat face, his body language—it’s all a dead giveaway. you sigh, plucking at your shoelaces as you both sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, listening to music together as you normally do. he seems to be trying to pretend you’re not there, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “k.” there’s a sharpness to your tone that makes k’s eyes drift upward—looking up at you—though his head is mostly still tilted towards the floor. “hm?” you’re still trying to get a gauge on him, but you’ve got nothing. “what’s up with you? we were having so much fun this afternoon and now you’re icing me out or something. if you want me to leave, i can go.” k sighs and speaks in the same breath. “don’t.” you decide you no longer want the responsibility of figuring out whatever this is, so you let the silence linger until he speaks again. “look, i don’t know, okay?” he runs his hand back through his hair, leaning back on his other arm. “i don’t know how to explain it but i just really didn’t fucking like watching you ‘play’ with nicholas today and i know that makes me sounds like a crazy asshole. i don’t know.” it takes several seconds for everything to click in your head. you hadn’t expected the problem to sound so much like jealousy. you always play with k and his friends. you and k have always been just good friends. what changed? “and i’m not jealous. so don’t even start.” you choke down an incredulous laugh before making your way across the floor to k—hands and knees like a curious puppy. your body seems to be working ahead of your mind, brain still trying to understand as if your body hasn’t already made a decision on its own. you stop in front of him, leaning forward on your arms to force him to look only at you. “no? then what are you?” both pairs of eyes are reading each other but neither of you have the answers you’re searching for. all you have is a glimmer of anticipation. k foregoes answering your question—verbally, at least—and grabs for you, arms gathering you up until you’re planted in his lap, lips covering yours with the same passion he channels when he dances. he breathes heavily into your mouth, hands groping at your waist and pulling you against his torso, tongue prodding your lips open for him. you moan as you welcome his tongue with yours, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. you tug at k’s bottom lip with your teeth, giggling when he practically growls in response. your laughter seems to break whatever spell you two were under, the room suddenly devoid of noise despite the music as you stare at each other with many more questions in your eyes. something has shifted. “fuck. i don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” k groans, leaning his head back against his dresser. you frown. “what? was kissing me that terrible?” “no. that’s the problem. god, i liked it so much and i want to keep doing it but i’m not supposed to feel like this about you, am i?”

fuma: if there's one thing you can count on fuma for, it's everything. he really puts the best in best friend. he's helping you clean up your place following the party you hosted last night—a party he would not have intended if it weren't for you. it wasn't exactly his scene, but if you want him somewhere, he'll be there. his attendance was more than enough for you, but he insisted on staying over so he could help you clean this morning. two pairs of hands are better than one, he'd said. you would have rejected his help, but you knew it was no use. he was going to help you whether you wanted him to or not. you glance into the living room and see fuma vacuuming just as you finish throwing away the last plastic cup (you'll apologize to the earth later). everything is mostly clean by now, so you decide the least you can do for fuma is make lunch for you both. you dig through your refrigerator and pantry for the makings of sandwiches. not exactly the best "thank you" meal, but it'll do. you place the ingredients on the counter and then turn to the other side of your small kitchen to retrieve glasses. lemonade sounds good, you think. it's only when you open the upper cabinet that you curse yourself. you forgot you had fuma put all your glasses up high so none of the drunks from the night before could use them for their drinks. still, you make a valiant effort to reach them, chewing your lip nervously as you prop yourself up on your tippy toes. "y/n?" you turn your head to find a smiling fuma standing in the entry way. "what are you doing? do you need help?" without waiting for an answer, he comes to your rescue, using context clues to decipher what you need. he stands behind you, one hand resting on your waist to keep you steady, the other reaching for a glass. he places the first glass down on the counter before retrieving the second one and doing the same. "there we go. ask me next time, silly." he finally looks back down at you, surprised to see you looking at him in a way he's never quite seen before. your faces are much closer than normal and you can hear him swallow thickly, reluctant to pull his gaze from you. you let your impulse win out, inching your head up just the last bit necessary to place your lips on fuma's, relishing in the content hum of his lips as he kisses you back. the kiss escalates quickly, fuma turning you around and lifting you onto the only empty counter, lips never parting. you sigh, wrapping your legs around his strong frame and pulling him further into you, heads tilting to allow each other more access. fuma's hands clutch your outer thighs as he presses himself firmly between them, your hands seeking stability on the countertops either side of you. that's when you tip a glass over and interrupt the heated session, bringing you both back down to earth. your cheeks flare bright red, your hands flying up in an attempt to cover the embarrassment written all over your face. fuma chuckles and takes your hands in his, peeling them away. "hey, now. don't hide from me." he presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand and holds your eyes with his. "i never thought that would happen either, but please don't hide from me. i'd rather not forget that it happened, but if you want, i will."

nicholas: "nicho! i'm here!" you kick your shoes off by his front door and place the takeout your brought on his dining table, looking around for where he might be. "in my room, y/n! come here." he calls to you, your feet already heading in the direction of his voice. "hey, i brought food. i left it in the—" nicholas cuts you off, spinning his computer chair to face you. "i found the perfect playlist. i gotta show you." you chuckle and nod, letting the food be forgotten as you walk over to where nicholas is seated with his headphones on. you're surprised he could hear anything you've said. you lean down by him, expecting him to remove his headphones and play the music through the loud speaker for you, but instead, he plugs a second pair of headphones up and hands them to you. as you're putting them on, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, sitting you sideways so he can see your face while you listen. he loves showing you new things and being able to tell which ones you like just by the look in your eyes. you blush a bit at the close proximity. it's not unheard of for you and nicholas to be quite close to each other, but you weren't expecting it this time. that's the only reason it feels different now, right? he watches you until he's sure you're comfortable and presses play, looking at you excitedly as the music starts to play. you sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the music together, his hand absentmindedly playing with your shirt where it rests on your hip. you're impressed by all of the songs so far, but the fourth one is just your style, head turning to look at nicholas with wide eyes. "i really like this one," you mouth to him. he's already grinning at you by the time you finish talking, leaning into you and pulling one of your headphones out of the way just enough to talk into your ear. "this is the one i wanted you to hear the most. i knew you'd like it." he covers your ear again, but stays close, eyes darting down to see the blush on your cheeks for a second time today. as if his hand was moving on its own, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over the pretty pink. you're so still on his lap, not sure what to make of the situation. is nicholas just being nicholas? what are you meant to think? his thumb wanders until he's brushing it over your bottom lip, his gaze now focused on your barely parted lips. when you don't object to this intimate gesture, his eyes flick up to yours to make sure you're here with him, and he replaces his thumb with his own lips. when you don't kiss him back at first, he starts to pull away, but you don't let him, chasing after his lips to kiss him like it's all you've ever wanted. he seems to like you chasing after him, pulling you fully into his lap, hands gliding up your back beneath your shirt, your tongues exploring each other for the first time. you shiver from the contact of his hands on your bare skin, breaking the kiss to breathe his name. it takes a second for both of your eyes to refocus, nicholas lightly scratching your back with his nails in an effort to soothe any nerves. "we should... probably talk about this?" he laughs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "but if you don't mind, i'd like to do it a little while more first."

euijoo: euijoo is an excellent influence on you. you watch as he does everything well, even things he's never tried before. he inspires you. after watching him making great efforts to learn new languages, you thought you might like to pick up a new one yourself. you didn't trust yourself to stick with it, though, so you begged euijoo to routinely study with you to keep you accountable. he can never say no to you, so he finds himself at your place every tuesday and thursday evening, helping you with pronunciation and sentence structure. he usually doesn't even let you get distracted—taking your phone away from you as soon as he gets there and slipping it into his pocket so you won't be able to use if even if you're tempted. today, your lessons have amped up in difficulty a bit more than usual. you're having a more difficult time with committing the new information to memory and you're especially having problems with pronunciation. you keep asking euijoo for help and, while he's patient with you, you can tell that even he notices how much more you're struggling today. "euijoo. look at me. speak slowly. i've tried saying this ten times now and it doesn't sound the same as when you do it. i need to see how you're saying it." unbothered by your request, he simply nods and turns to you, his big eyes distracting you for a moment. they're always so pretty. you're sitting right next to him so his face is close when he turns your way, but this isn't uncommon for the two of you. he starts speaking again, repeating himself a few times for your benefit. you watch his mouth closely as he pronounces everything perfectly and try to mimic what he's saying silently, urging your mouth to follow his lead. when he stops and looks at you expectantly, you repeat what you think he said. he cocks his head slightly and you know that means that you didn't quite get it right. you sigh, but euijoo doesn't want you to be discouraged. "y/n, watch how i place my tongue. it makes a big difference." he slows down his speaking even more, emphasizing his tongue placement, and now you know you're fucked. because why are you just staring at his tongue, wondering what it feels like instead of paying attention? you don't think about euijoo that way. at least, you don't think you ever have. he seems to notice the way your eyes are glazed over because he stops before finishing his repetition. "y/n." your eyes look up to his and he's confused, but for some reason that just makes you even more sure that something is indeed different about the vibe between you right now. you decide to be bold—not wanting to study anymore today anyway—and reach for him, your hand fisting his shirt to pull him forward to you. your lips catch his with a gasp on his end, but instead of stopping you, he leans into you more, big body towering over you. you slowly lay back, pulling him down with you as your lips move together in a heated frenzy. his knee finds itself between your legs and you moan with want. his lips part in awe, clearly not expecting you to moan like that, and you take advantage of that, licking into his mouth and forcing a moan out of him too. he presses his knee up between your legs and you gently tug at the back of his hair, tilting your head back with a lust-coated sigh. "euijoo. i-is this okay? fuck, i'm sorry. you don't have to do this, you know that, right?" he can never say no to you but you want him to say no if that's what he wants. euijoo's lips tug into a little smirk and he shakes his head, dipping down to place a soft kiss on your lips, nudging against them playfully. "you're not going to make me stop now, right?"

cr. cafekitsune for mdni banners ♡

#GIVE ME ALL THE TENSION I LOVE TENSION #all team #k #fuma #ej #&team smut #andteam smut #multiland #nicho

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valorantmenheadcanons · 19 days

Note

Innocent and shy masc reader has an incredibly dirty search history and an even worse taste in porn, has a large collection of order receipts from bad dragon. Cypher goes snooping and finds this all out? They have a little "chat" about network security -🐩

this is like my biggest fear except with my parents accidentally opening one of my packages. its either shampoo or a toy gnmsfgns

cw: suggestive, mentions of Corn, technically kind of cyberstalking? it's cypher what do u expect

wc: 718

It's late when you hear a soft knock at your door. You put your phone down on the bed, wondering who's on the other side of the door, especially at this hour. You hope it isn't a call for a last minute mission- the last thing you want right now is to be in a plane in a matter of minutes, geared up to fight.

When you open the door, you're greeted to the sight of a familiar beige figure, standing just a little too close. Cypher never seemed to mind getting in other people's space as long as he was the one doing it; invade his and he'd scamper off in seconds. His blue mechanical eyes scan over you quickly, though in a way that reminds you of someone checking for weapons rather than looking appreciatively.

"I need to talk to you about something," the man chirps, inviting himself inside your room before you can say anything. He slides by you with a careful hand on your shoulder, the leathery material of his gloves cool against your skin. You flush a little at the contact, fleeting but strangely electrifying. You shut your door behind him, folding your arms over your chest as you turn around to face him. You assume he's going to ask for a favour of some kind, or he wants to steal a piece of machinery from you, again, but you're really not in the mood to humour his requests, tired, and a little cranky because of it. Cypher pauses for a moment, hand half-raised in the air like he's trying to figure out exactly what he wants to say. "You know that I am very technology proficient, yes?"

You nod, frowning at the opening. He's usually pretty straightforward when he's asking for something.

"Come on, everyone knows to delete it afterwards. Are you trying to tease me?" Cypher's voice is smooth, peppy and cheerful but calculated, any hint of hesitancy gone. He's talking to you the same way he chides his opponents in a fight he's already won. The realisation sends a shiver up your spine- he knows something that either you don't know or don't want him to know. But you have an inkling, a gut feeling, that it's something you didn't want him to know. Not yet, anyways.

"What are you talking about?" You try, a little too quick to appear genuinely confused. Cypher's head only tilts minutely.

"You're too smart to be playing dumb. I mean, really?" Cypher scoffs, taking a few steps forwards, forcing you to take one back to maintain a semblance of distance between you two. "Looking up Moroccan models?" Another step forward, and your back brushes against the wall next to the door. "Picturing me as any one of them, hm?" Another step, and there's barely any space between you, and you want to die.

You hadn't intended for him to see any of that- although that meant he was snooping around your private search history, a whole other issue to tackle- but you also hadn't not intended for him to see any of that. It was a blurred line, your attraction to Cypher.

"'dirty talk in arabic'?" He has the decency to stifle a laugh, which only makes your face flush deeper, embarrassment, shame, and something else washing over you. "Mm, not to mention your purchasing history. Dirty, dirty, dirty boy," he clicks his tongue. "I thought you were all sweet, not so perverted."

You finally find your voice, the tips of your ears burning at this point. "I'm not the one snooping around in other people's stuff!" You tout back, a weak deflection.

"I'm not the one imagining their coworker is fucking them."

"Shut up!" You groan, really wishing with all your heart that you could be anywhere but here.

Cypher's beady blue eyes lift with a mirth you can sense through his mask. "Ohhh... but you like it. You're so red," and this time he does chuckle, mean and condescending, and damn if it doesn't send a little jolt of warmth through you, the idea that that little laugh is just for you to hear. "How about this: You show me which videos you like, and I'll give you a... personal lesson in how to delete your search history. How does that sound?"

#valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant x reader #valorant cypher #valorant cypher x reader #male reader #x male reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant smut

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dream0fschism · 1 year

Note

Could you please write a Price x wife! Reader where they have a really hot make out session?

because you asked so nicely... of course, darling.

nsfw! 18+ below! not sex but a lil sm sm... i'm ngl i can't write just a kiss.

i'm too nasty i think

You and your husband had never really enjoyed attending dinner parties. But because you were both so polite, the two of you had never missed a single one. Well, neither of you were ever in the mood to have your ear chewed off for saying 'no' to an invitation.

Your friend would only whine, anyway, say "But John's always away on call. We've all got to make memories together when we can!"

As if you weren't blatantly aware of your husband's frequent absences already.

"You know, we could be doin' this at home," John chuckles, following you into the bathroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

Immediately, you pounce towards him - making an accidental, louder-than-intended thud as you pressed him into the door and wrapped your arms around his neck. You both giggle like mischievous children.

"Mm, you're right. We've been saying we'll stop coming for years," you say, as his forearms encircle your waist. "I don't think we're posh enough for them, love."

"Fuck 'em."

Your lips meet soon after, in sloppy and lazy pecks as neither of you are in a rush to get back out there and converse. John's arms have a vice-like grip around your waist, but they loosen as your kiss intensifies so he can cuff a hand at the back of your neck.

You squeak at the sensation. He squeezes the spot lovingly, before he slithers his fingers upwards and scrunches at the base of your hair. When he uses your hair to tilt back your head, he leans over you further as if it would help him explore deeper with the tongue he presses into your mouth.

Your hands are no longer locked behind his neck, sliding down his chest as you weaken under his grasp and succumb to the warm feeling of your battling tongues.

John pinches at your butt with his other hand then, chuckling cheekily when you pull apart momentarily to catch your breaths. And you respond by slamming your mouths back together, teeth almost clashing against one another in your desperate movement.

The hand on your ass doesn't shift, and you reach to pull John forward by the shoulders and hook your leg around his waist. It causes you both to stumble, but you knew your skilled husband would always catch your fall. He does, but soon taps at your leg for you to put it back down, before he walks you towards the bathroom counter and lifts you onto it with little to no effort.

Situated between your legs, he connects your lips once again and uses a hand to caress your cheek.

The pooling heat between your legs slowly becomes more and more evident, and you squeeze John's hips between each of your plump thighs in search of a shred of relief.

When your mouths part, he speaks low, voice hoarse and gravelly with arousal. "Fuck, sweet. We can't keep doing this..." You watch the risks being weighed in his face, before he shakes his head and makes his decision. His eyes flick onto yours, whilst he presses three of his fingers to his tongue and coats them in saliva.

You quickly widened your legs, biting onto your lip as his hand slips beneath your dress and hooks beneath the lace covering your pussy. Fingers press between your folds and immediately find your clit, which Johnny begins to rub with desperation. You know he needs to make this quick, doesn't want to make you both look suspicious, but you can't bring yourself to give a fuck about anything outside of the four walls of the bathroom, not when his skilled fingers are stroking at your spit-soaked cunt the way they are.

John kisses you once again, swallows each sound you make as he uses the hand on your cheek to graze over your cheekbone with his thumb.

"Guys? Hello? Are you in there together? I need to piss!"

Fuck.

You were never going to another fucking dinner party again.

#john price #John price mw2 #price mw #price mw2 #price smut #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #john price oneshot #mw2 oneshot #john price is a daddy idc

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razbunz · 3 months

Text

Aquarium

CW: None just fluff really, Established Relationship, Intended for Fem reader ,Not proofread 💞

“Toji did you see that one!” You exclaim pointing at the jellyfish flowing freely in the tank,Swaying and swishing with each false tide the aquarium replicates.

“I saw it Angel-” he looks down at you,your gaze already fixated on the raven haired man

All of the jellyfishes were moving and bobbing behind the glass,The lights hitting the jellyfish to reveal all their secrets. Tiny swirls and dots of pattern engraved in their heads To the way their legs shift in and out of auburn to gold with ten light.

There’s so many of them-The little sea nettles.

Not a care in the world,Truth be honest you can’t even remember the last time you’ve gone to an aquarium. The time seems too long to even remember.

Something squeezes your hand,Dragging you out of your rambling.

“You alright kid?” He offers you his other hand like an anchor for stability.You nod and control search the deep cerulean tank walls.

What is it like for them?

You wonder…Is it thoughtless? Do they feel if we touch them? Are they all friends?

Staring up at the plaque just next to all of the jelly’s.And with each word you settle on one thought.

Being a Jelly would be sooo amazing.

“I’m okay Toji.” Your smile assured him,full of childish curiosity and he gave one back-Rougher but enough to move you to the next exhibit.

All sorts of sea creatures catch your eyes; wether it’s bright tropical fish or little guys with oddly placed eyes, even the coral is amazing to look at with its intricate structure and beautiful colors.

Most you could even say are adorable.

Even the basking tank for the sharks.

Staring into the water you point one out-

“That one looks like you!” You jest lightly elbowing him in the abdomen, He scoffs

“Absolutely not kid” and he looks through the tank “why not that one?” He points at a horned shark-It swims away almost knowing his acknowledgment.

“Cause.” Your antics make him roll his eyes, his jaw slightly clenching

“Cause???” He urges you on.

“The one I chose is a cute shark” You laugh and look back and forth between the shark and your agitated boyfriend

“And mine isn’t?” He argues studying the shark that runs away from his gaze.

“I’m just saying mine is better.” You shrug and smile at your accomplishment.

“What type of shark is it?” His question is

uncharacteristically curious. And a whole bunch of things click; All of the time you two have spent watching documentaries on the ocean and Watching the fish move with the tides while the two of you don’t.

He’s never been to an aquarium before.

“I think it’s a bamboo shark.” You try to rack back memories of your childhood, moving past all or miniature phases that once grasped your entire mind.

You look up just in time to see his lips move around the words.He notices it flushes in embarrassment but doesn’t comment on it.

“I guess it’s kinda cute.” A light blush covers his cheeks and he squints his eyes at you.

“Cheeky thing you are,huh?” He pinches your left cheek in slight retaliation- giggling as he grips your waist dragging you close to him. Planting one kiss onto your forehead.

And you both continue to meander throughout the aquarium making fun of the little sea snakes in the sand and admiring the seals flipping around on the ice.The keepers joyously feeding and playing with the seals.

It’s different to see him so involved and engaged in something so simple like an aquarium.

It’s oddly adorable.

A screech tears you away from your thoughts,Toji’s too as he whips around to where the sound comes from.

It’s from a lady,looking around frantically as I overhear her ask “where’s my kid!?”

You walk towards her asking for details of the kid eagerly trying to help her.

“He’s short,black hair and eyes and is about 7” she calms herself to speak to you her hands shaking while she calls for him “that kids name”

And when you turn around,Toji is gone.

You grumble a few choice words of anger before going off to search for the kid.

You search the open ocean areas for them shouting their name every once in awhile.He might be in the tide pool area! kids like that right? with your new idea in mind you turn back.

Only to see Toji with the little boy handing him off to his mom.

The sight stops your heart. He's beaming and crouched down to the kid giving him a high five saying something you can just barely hear “Your mom loves you, don’t scare her kiddo.”

Giving parting words to the mom while she thanks him repeatedly.

Your heart can’t help but ache at the man approaching you looking relieved as he runs a hand through his hair mindlessly.

He shakes his head letting out a deep breath

“Your good with kids.” you smile dotingly at him

“Really?” Toji isn’t a man of many words,but the way he smiles cheekily only makes you fall harder.

“I’d say you are” and you watch the mom and son walk away,The boy giggling and holding his mothers hand. His hands wrap around your waist- squeezing it with possessiveness that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

He kisses the back of your hand and walks away with a small wink.

You go up to a touching tank, lightly skimming the backs of stingrays and starfishes.

A tap on your shoulder leads you back to Tojis watchful gaze.

“Hey baby” he smiles and offers his arm up to you offering to lead you out of the closing aquarium. The two of you being some of the final guests to leave,The sun's last rays already dipping into the horizon.

By the time you sit in the car you're fighting to stay awake,Your eyes are fighting to stay awake as the car starts up- so by the time he’s on the road back home your eyes flutter close.

Unknown to your sleeping figure he rummages through a bag in the passenger seat,Placing a soft fuzzy bamboo shark plushie into your limo arms.

And you unconsciously squeeze your little gift,He can swear his heart jumps out of his chest at the sight.

“Dumb shark-“ he scoffs looking at you sleep.

Offering you a light head pat.

“A cute one though.”

And you can’t see him smile.

AN: I had lots of fun writing this one,It’s fun to dip into his character and take him in a much different direction. Hope you enjoyed this! ✨

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk writing #toji zenin #jujitsu kaisen #divider by cafekitsune

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obsessedvibee · 9 months

Text

Patient Love - Part 1

Pairing: reader (Evelyn) & Austin Butler

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: the filthiest most detailed smuttiest smut you’ve ever read, virgin reader, wedding night sex, desperate primal Austin, premature ejaculation, marking kink, possessive Austin

Summary: Austin has respected Evelyn’s wish of not having sex till they were married. Ride along (full pun intended) as their wedding night unfolds.

Her heart began to beat a little faster as Austin turned the vehicle into their driveway. One hand guiding the steering wheel and the other holding her own, his thumb gently playing with the new diamond ring that adorned her finger. The jewelry felt heavy and foreign and she was obsessed. She had always yearned to be married since she was a teenager, and now she got to show the world she was taken by the handsome groom next to her.

The wedding reception slowly dwindled down as the night carried on. Loving embraces from parents, slaps on the back from his friends, giggles and knowing glances from hers. She’s not sure if she could have turned any more red when her best friend told her to put a towel down on the bed later.

Weddings are actually pretty embarrassing when you think about it. Everyone knows what the bride and groom are going home to do. She suddenly just wanted to curl in on herself. How was she ever going to look her parents in the eye again?

Austin pulling his hand away to shift the vehicle into park brought her back to the present. “How you doing over there?”

She took a deep breath to try to help relax herself. “I’m good, just-“ she huffed a laugh, “nervous.”

He grabbed her hand again pulling it up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her knuckles. “We don’t have to do this tonight, you know. Whether we go all the way or not, I’ll still be your husband tomorrow.”

She giggled, “I know.”

They both made their way out of the SUV into the still night air. He circled around the front of the car opening the door to the house, holding it open for her. She bunched her dress up as well as she could to get it off the floor before making her way to him. She was about to walk past him when a soft tut from him stopped her. He held his arms out. “Get over here.”

A small yelp escaped her as he swooped her legs out from under her and carried her over the threshold bridal style. He gently set her down, her heels clicking on the floor as she steadied herself, but before she could even say anything, Austin suddenly leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. His hands cradled her head as he backed her into the wall. He devoured her mouth like his life depended on it, his tongue searching, fingers pressing, breath from his nose caressing her cheeks. His cologne entranced her, and the small grunt he let out into her mouth when she nipped at his bottom lip made her knees almost buckle. She grappled at the front of his suit, grasping at the lapels tugging him impossibly closer causing his hand to reach out and steady himself on the wall next to her. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers; both of them a little breathless. “My beautiful beautiful wife.”

Her heart fluttered, and her nerves settled as she reminded herself he’s her husband now. Her husband. His blue eyes were trained on hers, shining from the hall light from above. His blonde hair flopped onto his forehead, the hairspray from early in the day was long worn off. Her eyes burned a bit from the sudden emotion that hit her. “Make love to me, Aus,” she breathed.

A grin spread across his features, and he pulled away, running his hand down her arm to lead her with him towards the bedroom. Our bedroom, she thought. She briefly wondered if his heart was pounding as much as hers was. He looked back with a timid smile as they walked through the doorway. Inside there was a vase of red roses resting on the dresser next to a small Bluetooth speaker. He shrugged off his suit jacket tossing it on the chair that sat in front of the window, leaving him in his white button down and his suit vest, his tie neatly tucked underneath. He worked on getting the Bluetooth speaker up and running and soon, music quietly filled the room.

He turned to look at his new wife. He was torn between his gentlemanly side, and primal side. Half of him wanted to stare at her until the sun rose, tracing her every curve and make love to her in the way he knew she was anticipating. The other half of him wanted to stalk over to her and tear the shimmering white gown right off her body and fuck her into the mattress, splitting her open with his cock. He ran a hand through his wavy hair, tugging lightly, the pain helping rein his thoughts back in. Although it did nothing to avert the interest his cock had in the idea.

He held out his hands beckoning her over “c’mere baby.” She stepped over to him, a smile forming on her face as he brushed the few stray hairs from her face. “Dance with me,” he murmured, pulling her body to his.

She rested her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist as they swayed. She closed her eyes focusing on his heart beat under his chest matching her breath with his. He knew how to get her out of her own head.

She pulled away and her fingers began working the buttons on his vest unbuttoning each one before sliding it off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. He let her work watching as her slender fingers reached up to loosen his tie, a look of concentration clouding her features as she struggled. “I’ve never actually had to undo a tie before,” she admitted. He reached to help her, a short breath leaving his nose in a small laugh.

After the tie hit the floor, she worked on his white button down slowly, savoring how his chest and abdomen was being revealed a few inches at a time. He helped her pull his shirt from being tucked into his slacks and it was quickly discarded to the floor. She eyed his toned abdomen, her eyes lowering to the hair that led down into his waistband, leading down to his…

She flushed, unable to help her eyes from glancing at the fly of his pants knowing what was underneath yet never having actually seen his. Her hand had made its way between her thighs many times imagining countless ways how this night would go.

His finger hooked just under her chin lifting her gaze to his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her softly for a while. Her hands found themselves resting on his sturdy chest, her fingers gently scratching at his chest hair.

Austin’s hands didn’t seem to know where to rest, staring at her waist, then back to her face, then down to her shoulders. He was eager. Excited. Like a child about to open their birthday present. Her heart swelled.

She was his gift.

As soon as his fingers started to toy with the zipper on the back of her dress she faltered. “Wait,” she breathed, pushing gently at his chest.

His heart dropped, worry shoving its ugly head into his mind, panicking that he read her signal wrong. But her hands were pulling at his clothes so frantically before?

She looked up at him, a small smile playing at her lips, quelling his worrisome thoughts. “I- I wanna put something on for you.”

She gave him a smile, turning towards the direction of the bathroom, her dress rustling in the quiet room. Once inside she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks and chest were tinted pink with a hint of shy innocence, her lips a bright red. She tilted her head, her fingers lightly tracing a new hickey at the nape of her neck Austin had worked into her skin earlier that evening. She splashed some cool water on her face to cool her down.

Austin was standing in the other room trying to calm his own nerves. As arousing as it was that he was about to be the first man that has ever seen her naked, the first man that she’s ever allowed inside of her, the immense pressure of making this night enjoyable for her was eating him alive. It was his duty to make this night as comfortable as possible for her.

God, the amount of times he wrung his cock out imagining her climaxing was embarrassing.

His whole reason for breathing was on the other side of that door, getting herself all ready just for him. He almost felt lightheaded with how fast the blood rushed to his groin. The thought of her stripping her dress off suddenly flashed in his head. What was he doing out here making her take it off all by herself?

“Ev?” He knocked on the door.

He heard the water in the sink stop. “Yeah?”

“Is your dress still on?”

He heard a bit of rustling.

“Yea, it’s still on.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Can I- can I help you take it off?”

Was it weird to ask that? He just was suddenly hit with the thought of wanting to be the one to remove her dress, seeing her in just her lingerie. His cock pulsed at the thought.

She was silent for a moment, the pounding of his heart in his ears was the only sound he could focus on.

She opened the door and his heart ached at the sight. Her hair was down now, her face free of makeup, her heels in the corner. He made a mental note to thank God later for giving him the most beautiful girl he could have ever dreamed of.

His eyes traveled to the neckline of her dress that was now a bit crooked, revealing the top of her right breast. He could see the tan line she had. The dark sun kissed skin with a sharp line of white beneath reminding him again that no one had ever seen her bare. Not even the sun.

“Aus?”

He snapped out of his thoughts a light blush creeping up his neck. She turned as he stepped in, sweeping her hair out of the way so he could access the zipper. He pulled the zipper down, his eyes following the curve of her spine that reached the top of her ass where the zipper ended. Before he could think his finger lightly traced the indent making her breathe hitch.

With his height, he stood a whole head taller than her which made it easy to watch her in the mirror. His eyes stayed trained on hers as he gently pushed the strap from her dress over her shoulder letting it fall. He did the same to the other before frowning when he noticed the hickey. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair, his thumb rubbing over the bruised skin.

“Don’t be.”

He looked at her in the mirror again, with raised brows. “You like it?”

She blushed, biting her lip as he started working at the other side of her neck. “Just keep them in the non visible areas-“ she paused at the feeling of his teeth grazing her skin, “-if you can.”

He wanted to ignore her words, to continue marking her in the most visible areas. He wanted every man to know that she was his. She was taken. Until his eyes looked down her shoulder seeing down into the front of her dress. He flicked his gaze away quickly out of habit. It still felt taboo to actually look. But he couldn’t help himself and he looked again. The white swell of her breasts tucked in her dress. His hands tingled, wanting to feel them in his palms.

There. He could mark her there!

A whimper sounded in his throat when he felt his cock twitch again, a blurt of precum wetting the inside of his briefs.

There was no way in hell he was going to last more than one good thrust in his new bride before he’d finish. He already felt like he was going to explode before his slacks even came off. The anticipation was killing him.

But what a wonderful way to go.

“You okay?” She spoke, pulling him back to the present, turning her head to look at him directly.

“More than okay,” he assured.

His hands began kneading at her shoulders, knowing it would help relax her, although if it was him or her that needed more relaxing right now he wasn’t sure.

“Relax your arms for me,” he encouraged. “Let the dress go.”

Her arms released the dress and it fell away from her, getting caught at her hips before she tugged it down and it pooled at her feet. Her heart was pounding as she stood in just her undergarments. For a moment she almost felt embarrassed by wearing white lingerie. Was that too cliche? Too traditional? One look at Austin’s face quieted her doubts. She was almost sure she could feel the heat from his gaze as he took her body in. His focus on her gave her a surge of courage.

She stepped to the doorway, “let’s move to the bed.”

She scampered off suddenly feeling giddy practically jumping on the bed as Austin struggled to pull off his slacks hopping on one foot as he pulled one of his pant legs off, trying to match her energy. She giggled as he almost fell into the dresser. “These fucking pants,” he muttered before finally getting free leaving him in his tight black briefs.

She eyed his area seeing how his shaft was pushed down the inside of the leg of the briefs, a small wet spot near the tip. She licked her lips, suddenly having the urge to taste him.

That was less scary than putting it inside her down there anyway.

He walked over, kneeing his way across the bed to her, giving her another kiss like the one he gave her in the hallway. He tried to pour all of his love into her mouth, trying to express a thank you almost. Wanting to thank her for trusting him with her body.

His hands snaked their way to the clasp of her bra making it fall open at the back. He continued to work her mouth keeping her distracted as the straps fell and the garment dropped between them.

Her head was tilted back as she met his mouth over and over, her back arching, pressing her breasts into his chest. He could feel her pebbled nipples brushing his skin and he finally couldn’t help himself to pull away and let his eyes indulge.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby girl.” He rasped.

They rose and fell with her every breath. His hands gently cupped each one, the warmth they held was almost comforting. He gave them a soft squeeze, loving the way they fit so well into his large hands. His thumbs brushed her nipples making a small sound leave her mouth drawing his eyes back up at her with a grin.

He quickly lowered his head and wrapped his lips around her nipple starting with a lick and testing how she responded with a light suckle.

“Austin!” She cried, threading her hands into his hair. He felt a surge of pride at discovering a pleasurable spot for her. He continued sucking her breast while letting his right hand play with its twin. He quickly switched his mouth giving the other the same attention. Her soft moans were like a drug to his brain. He never wanted to hear another sound from her. His cock lurched begging to be a part of the action. He obliged, letting his hand wander down to give it a squeeze.

“Baby,” Evelyn moaned, pulling harder at his hair making him pull away to look at her. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted as she gently panted, “I wanna make you feel good too.”

“You will, baby. Just relax, and lay back for me.”

She obliged, her hair cascading around her head on the mattress below. He positioned himself between her legs draping himself over her body. She blushed as she watched his hand disappear into his briefs to reposition his cock.

The poor thing, she thought, as if his dick was a separate being. He had to be aching something awful.

He went back to kissing her and caressing her breasts, and if she were honest she could have stayed right in this moment forever.

That was until she felt him nudge her mound. Then it got even better. His hips began to work, bumping into her over and over. Sometimes he caught her clit, sometimes just her pubic bone, but he continued to hump her. It wasn’t entirely pleasurable for her but if his grunts and panting breaths gave anything away it definitely was for him.

She knew what he needed. The poor boy had been so good to her all day. All day and their whole entire relationship. He respected her wishes of being abstinent until they were married, and now they both could enjoy each other's bodies. If he was going to get off before things really got started she was going to take it as a compliment.

He was losing himself. He was supposed to be aiding her pleasure, but he just had to get the edge off. He knew he was losing himself but he was too far gone thinking about finally being able to take her. The sight of her willingly laying under him for him to do as he pleased made something in him tick.

His hips rocked with increasing vigor, and a sudden white heat ran through his pelvis. The pleasure bolted up his spine and escaped his mouth in a throaty groan followed by a wet warmth spreading in his briefs.

A soft whimper from his wife brought him crashing back to reality. He hadn’t realized in the midst of blinding pleasure, his mouth claimed her breast and he had her nipple pressed between his teeth. He immediately released her.

“Shit, Ev, I’m sorry-“ he lifted himself up on his wobbly arms, “I didn’t mean to-” His eyes looked horrified, as he tried to regather himself. “I’m so sorry.” He stood so quickly Evelyn herself almost felt dizzy.

There he stood in all his masculine glory. Only covered by his briefs that now held his spent cock. His face was flushed, his chest still heaving.

“Aus, it’s okay.” she assured. “I wanna see you though,” she spoke shyly. “Can I-?” She motioned to his briefs, moving to stand in front of him.

Her confidence had lifted now seeing him reach his peak just from her being topless. She’d never felt this powerful, and feminine. Her hands reached out before she could overthink and she gently pulled the front of his waistband away from his sensitive shaft, pulling the last bit of clothing off of him. He stepped out of them and let her look.

He was long and she wasn’t entirely surprised given the rest of his lanky body. Long limbs, long fingers… his small mushroom head still holding a bead of white at the tip. She bit her lip as she could still see it twitching a bit with the aftershocks, and it glistened with the remnants of his own release. Her mouth watered again wanting to feel him on her tongue; discover what he tasted like. They had plenty of other times where she could delve into that. Her heart swelled with overwhelming love again knowing they had forever together.

Sex was another odd subject. So primal yet so emotionally powerful. She felt bewildered the way her brain kept jumping from innocent to filthy in a split second.

To distract him from the embarrassment of finishing so soon, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her white panties and pushed them down over her hips letting them fall down her legs landing on the carpet with a soft pat.

He visibly swallowed, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “Lord have mercy,” he breathed.

In any other moment she would have laughed at the Elvis reference, but her shyness ruled it out. Now standing bare in front of each other neither moved.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed letting his eyes feast. He broke out of his trance quickly, reaching to run his hands down her waist. He pulled her closer by grabbing a good handful of her behind giving a squeeze. “You still doin okay?”

She nodded silently, sighing into his neck, wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulled away, leading her to the bed. “Lay down for me again.”

She did as she was told, holding her thighs tightly together.

“Lemme see you, baby.” His warm hands gently caressed her knees.

She slowly relaxed her legs as he worked wet kisses onto her knees, never taking a direct look at her area until he made it to her inner thigh. And there she was, soft and pink, surrounded by a bit of hair topped with that little pearl of hers he kept nudging a few moments ago. He found it endearing she trimmed herself up for this night. Her aroma was strong being only a handful of inches from his face, and he suddenly went in with a lick.

She gasped, startled at the feeling of his warm wet tongue swiping up her folds. His hands reached up, starting at her hips, and making their way to her breasts. She began to moan as he licked and sucked at her. Her head lifted only to be thrown back as he began focusing on her little nub.

“Mmm,” she exhaled, placing her hands over his larger ones encouraging him.

He only hummed in response, retreating his attack with his mouth a bit, slowly licking around her, kissing here and there. He worked his tongue between her folds finding more of her nectar between, finishing the move with a flick to her little pearl.

She moaned louder this time. His cock perked up at the sound. He couldn’t even remember the last time he got hard again so fast after an orgasm. He felt like a teenager again.

“Yeah,” she sighed as he began focusing on her clit more, moving his hand from her breast to her small untouched entrance.

He pulled away to gauge her reaction as he carefully pressed his pinkie into her. “How’s this, baby?”

“Mmhmm.”

He huffed a small laugh into her mound before going back to work her with his mouth. One of her hands found its way into his hair gripping tightly as he began to pump his finger in and out. She was responding well, her muscles relaxing around his finger. He easily swapped his pinkie for his middle and ring finger, his pride growing as he saw his wedding band pressing against her soft curls.

He could feel more wetness coming from her dampening his knuckles, and his cock throbbed with jealousy, begging for its own turn at her.

She began to squirm and her breaths quickened. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as he continued the pace and reached his head down to mouth at her clit. That pushed her over.

Her back arched and her fingers squeezed pulling at his hair as her body soared into pure bliss. Her entrance clamped down on his fingers as her body rode through her high. He continued to work her until it became too much and she pushed his head away.

She lay limp on the bed, her breasts heaving with her every breath. He kneeled back sitting on his feet watching his breathless wife. She looked up at him, a twinkle glinting in her eyes.

“How was that?” He asked.

Her laugh was his answer. He smiled, stretching himself out next to her. He gently traced her arms with his fingertips letting her catch her breath. She eventually turned her head and their mouths met in a slow kiss. They continued to make out for a long while, tongues softly prodding, lips caressing; she was sure to have beard burn on her mouth later. But that was a problem for another time. Right now she wanted him to make love to her. She wanted to know what it was like to be connected so intimately. As worried as she was, she was determined to complete the deed tonight. For him. For her. She wanted to provide that pleasure for him in the best way she knew how.

She sat up quickly turning to straddle him, her thighs spread on either side of his hips. His cock rested heavily against his stomach ready and waiting.

“Take all the time you need, baby. And you stop whenever you need to, okay?” He gently gripped her wrist that was reaching for him, pausing her actions.

She nodded, “okay.”

The countless ways he imagined what her hand would feel like on his shaft did nothing to prepare him for when her soft small hand gently lifted him off his stomach. The sight alone was so incredibly arousing, her small little fingers wrapping around him guiding him to rub through her soft wet folds. Her new ring caught the light as she ran his tip through herself a few more times feeling things out before she finally nestled him in where her entrance would be. She looked up from watching between her legs, locking her eyes with his.

She began to sink down and it took all he had to keep his hips down on the bed, but he wanted to do it for her. He’d hold back forever if she asked him to.

He felt the ring of her entrance stretching around him, and soon he felt his mushroom tip fit inside. She whimpered, her brows pulling together, dropping his gaze in focus. She continued to sink down, and he knew she was going too fast, the pained look growing on her face. When she whimpered again, he gripped her hips stopping her.

“Slow down, baby. Take a breath.”

He wasn’t prepared for her glossy eyes looking back at him. In that moment he suddenly hated that he had to do this to her. All of his fantasies he wanked to suddenly seemed foolish. He wished he didn’t have to hurt her in order to break her in. It was one thing to be on the receiving end of pain, but to be the one causing it?

“Hold on- let me just,” he suddenly had the idea to pull back out.

“Don’t!” She cried, making him freeze. “Just don’t move.” She whispered.

He felt himself losing his stiffness. Seeing his girl in pain was a sure way to make him wilt.

He held his hips as still as possible moving to stroke her hands that were placed on his chest. “Maybe we can try a different night?”

She shook her head, “no- no, I’m gonna do this tonight. I want to do this.”

He was in awe of her determination. He thought his next moves carefully.

“Do you wanna hold my hands?” He asked. She thought for a moment, focusing on keeping herself as still as possible transferring the weight she had on his chest, to his waiting hands. She squeezed him appreciatively.

“Focus on relaxing your muscles down there.” She took a few deep breaths closing her eyes.

He was so hyper aware of every move her body made, trying to figure out a way to make it better but he kept coming up blank. This was up to her from here. God he’s never felt so helpless.

He slowly felt her begin to relax and he praised her. “There ya go, keep going baby. I’m right here with ya.”

She slowly sank down inch by inch, her body slowly accommodating the foreign intrusion. She finally got to the bottom of his length, and she found herself seated on his hips.

It was indescribable all the feelings and emotions flying though her head. She’s never felt so full. Stretched beyond anything she’d ever imagined. More than what she thought her body was capable of. Seated in his lap with his private area tucked into hers. So incredibly full yet nothing had ever felt more right. She felt her eyes brim with tears as he waited patiently beneath her. He reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear when she noticed his eyes were glossy too.

“You did it baby,” he softly smiled, feeling immensely proud of his wife. She smiled a small laugh bubbling past her lips, the statement seeming comical in a way. Her laugh jolted her in just the right way making him shift inside her uncomfortably. Although for him it was a pleasant caress of her walls on his shaft making him suck in air through his teeth. He quickly began to stiffen up again.

Her eyes widened, “oh my god, Aus, I can feel you getting bigger.”

He looked down to where they were connected, “‘m sorry.” He pulled her hand to his lips pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re just too sexy for him to relax.”

She rolled her eyes.

“He’s got a mind of his own.”

She shook her head, smiling. She began to lift her hips, and he suddenly couldn’t tear his eyes away from seeing his cock reappear from her innermost part. It was almost overwhelming. She reached his tip and began sinking back down again.

“So good,” he spoke. Whether he was telling her or telling himself she couldn’t decipher, but his words made her feel good.

She smiled leaning down to give him a small kiss. She was beginning to pull away until he grasped either side of her head, kissing her deeply trying to distract her from the uncomfortable feeling he knew she was trying to ignore.

He let her work up her pace a bit until he noticed her getting tired. “Want me to take over?”

She took the offer gratefully. They carefully rolled over while he remained inside her and he slowly began to pull out and push back in intently watching her face for any signs of pain. His confidence grew as he gently picked up the pace and she seemed to get into it a bit. He reached down and thumbed at her clit, trying to help bring her some pleasure before he peaked again. He could feel his balls tightening already.

“Don’t be afraid to touch yourself, baby.” He grunted out, not wanting to be the jerk guy that only thought about himself. She flushed, only managing to grab her own breasts. He found it cute that she blushed at the idea of helping masturbate herself in front of him even though he was literally balls deep inside of her.

He began to relax more and more as she started to quietly moan at his thrusts. They got through the worst of it, he was sure. It was only going to get better from here. He began to focus on his pleasure a bit, working himself to the brink before he stopped knowing he was about to explode.

“Stay relaxed baby, I’m gonna pull out.”

She nodded, spreading her legs a bit wider bracing for the feeling of him pulling out.

A soft suck sounded as he parted from her, making her shudder.

“Give me your hand.”

She reached for his hand letting him guide her to his slick cock. He gently maneuvered her fingers to grasp him, showing her how to stroke him. Her movements were unsure at first but she quickly recovered moving with steady strokes soon enough.

He was prepared for the feeling on his shaft, but when he suddenly felt a swipe at his tip he nearly doubled over. “Fuck!”

She giggled. She fucking giggled at him.

He had a feeling they had a lot left to explore in the near future.

It didn’t take much longer before he spilled again. A low moan rumbled out of his chest as the pleasure overtook him. He couldn’t help but push his hips into her fist suddenly craving a tighter grip. Something he could teach her another time. White spurts landed on the gentle curve of her stomach, with the last bits dribbling over her fingers.

“You’re throbbing,” she observed aloud, her bottom lip was trapped under her teeth as she watched his milky white seed seep from the little slit. Before she could think she swiped her thumb over it making him shudder and shy away. “Shit!” He cried pulling away, “I’m super fucking sensitive right now, baby.”

She didn’t say a word, remaining locked on his gaze, she pulled her hand that had the remnants of his release on her fingers and began licking it into her mouth with a content hum.

“Jesus fuck,” he murmured, “that’s hot, Ev.”

She grinned, sucking her last finger clean.

“What kind of dirty little girl did I just unlock?”

Read Part 2 of Patient Love HERE.

Want more? Check out my other works! > Masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader

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yeehaww-sims · 2 years

Photo

MORE PRIDE FLAGS v2

Happy belated pride month everyone! I had intended to have this done during June, but ended up getting busy and having to delay it a bit. Better late than never!! I present: The biggest CC project I’ve done so far.

BGC, 3 .package versions

Merged, unmerged, and 500 swatch version. Note that the 500 swatch version has some issues and will not be maintained.

There’s also a file labeled REQUESTS, this is for flag requests I get in the future, and is an optional download.

500 swatches, including remakes and variations/alternatives.

I realize this is a LOT of flags. It’s a lot for me to even remember. Feel free to remove swatches you’re not going to use, the original will always remain up if you want any back!

This is NOT an override, it’s a separate object

In BB it’s separated into 5 different objects, 100 swatches each.

75-79 Simoleons, to keep them in order, in the Wall Decorations, Paintings & Posters, and Outdoor Wall Decoration Categories

The CC wrench icon covers up some flag names in the thumbnails, and I didn’t realize this until I finished all 500, and I don’t want to do them all again. An image is included in the folder to help with this, and you can find CC wrench icon replacers HERE: [x] [x] [x] [x]

Don’t claim it as your own, and please feel free to tag me if you use it!

Most textures were sourced from Pride-Flags Deviant art, LGBTA Wiki, Tumblr, Twitter, or google search. Most flags will have the term definitions/sources linked.

Don’t download this if you’re a T[SW]ERF/Queerphobe/Bigot or anything like that, fuck you.

[ @maxismatchccworld @ts4pride @emilyccfinds @mmfinds @sssvitlanz ]

Below is a list of every flag I’ve included, as well as the download link, just in case it needs to be edited/updated in the future. A recolor file is included in the zip. Other information and term sources are also below.

DOWNLOAD [SFS] | [MF]

NOTE: IF LINKS ARE NOT WORKING/SHOWING UP ON MY BLOG, OPEN THE PAGE IN THE DASHBOARD. You can do this by clicking the Eye icon in the top right corner of my blog. I don’t know why it’s happening either. This will also show all the links to all the flag’s sources/definitions.

Or just copy/paste the link: https://simfileshare.net/folder/165549/ https://www.mediafire.com/folder/w14lc3zrc46zw/Pride_Flags_v2

See also: Original 83 swatch post [HERE] 103 swatch update post [HERE] Pride Hoodies [HERE] Pronoun Hoodies [HERE]

And if you would like a flag added: Flag Requests

DISCLAIMER: I will not be taking any flags/terms out. Some flags included are reclaimed, uncensored slurs that people genuinely, in good faith, are and identify as. These include D-ke [y], f-gg-t [a,o], F-mb-y [e,o], and Q---r [uee]. There are also some “controversial” flags/indentities, such as Bi Lesbian and similar terms. I personally support these terms, and any good faith identity. As well as this, a couple of the flags included are by creators who are absolutely terrible people, such as the person who made the original bigender flag and the lipstick lesbian flag, among a few others. I chose to include these still for many reasons, one being some people still choose to use these flags for many non-bigoted, often reclaimed, reasons. Another being for gameplay that takes place in specific times, those flags are the ones that would’ve been used then. I am aware of the history of these flags, I respect the people that choose to use/reclaim them, and hope that you understand this decision. Some flags were also added for occult sims, along with being real terms. I just thought they were fun. I am nonbinary, and self-describe as an inclusionist, so if you don’t care for/disagree with a term, just delete it from the file. I do not care, I will not be involved in any discourse, and if you message me about it, I will just ignore you. Please respect my boundaries. Thank you. 🧡🧡🧡

FLAG LIST:

Top row: 🏳‍🌈 Rainbow, Original Gilbert Baker, Gilbert Baker’s Diversity Flag, Philly Pride, Progress Pride, Gilbert Baker Progress flag, QPOC Pride, Gay Anarchy, Fully Automated Luxury Gay Space Communism

Bottom row: Gay & Jewish, Gay & Muslim, Gay & Pagan, Gay & Christian, Gay & Hindu, Gay & Sikh, Gay & Buddhist, Gay & Confucianism, Gay & Shinto, Gay & Taoism [Note: I ended up making all the religious gay flags except for Pagan and Buddhist, if anyone would like a full version of them let me know!]

Top row: Gay & Druidism, COEXIST, Rainbow Love, Gay Furry, Abinary, Abrogender, Abrosexual, Aceflux x2, Asexual Spectrum

Bottom row: Achillean, AegoAroAce x2 [x] [x], Aegoromantic, Aegosexual, Aemotional, Aesthetigender, Agender, Agenderflux/Librafluid, Aliengender

Top row: Aliengender, AlloAce, AlloAro, Altersex, Amatopunk, Ambiamorous, Analterous, Anarchogender x2, Androgynous

Bottom Row: Angeligender x2, Angenital, Angled AroAce, Anthetic, Apagender/Gender Apathetic [originally requested by @maddylena13], Aphysical, Aplatonic x2, Aponian

Top row: Aporagender, Apothiromantic, Apothisexual, AroAce, AroAce Spectrum x2, Aroflux x2, Aromantic, Aromantic Spectrum

Bottom Row: Asensual, Asexual, Aurorasexual/Genderfluid Lesbian, Aurorian, Autiace, Autiaro, Autigender, Autisexual, Bear Brotherhood, Bellusromantic

Top row: Bellussexual, Bi Gay, Bigender x3, Bi Lesbian x2 [x] [x], Bisexual, Boyflux, Buggender

Bottom Row: Bungender x2, Bunnygender x2, Butch, Butch Lesbian, Caedromantic, Caedsexual, Calypsian, Cassgender

Top row: Catgender x4, requested by @fridgethesimmer, Halloween Catgender x2, requested by @darkheartthestccat, Ceterosexual x2, Cinthean, Cisn’t

Bottom row: Cupioromantic, Cupiosexual, Daimogender, Demialterous, Demi-Bi, Demiboy, Demiflux, Demi-Gay, Demigender/Deminonbinary, Demigirl

Top row: Demi-Omni, Demi-Pan, Demiplatonic, Demi-Ply, Demiromantic, Demisensual, Demisexual, Demiromantic, Doggender x2

Bottom Row: Doggender x4, Dollboy x2, Dollgender x3 Drag Community

Top row: Drag Community, Dreadromantic x2, Dyke, Eclipsian, Enbian, Enboric, Ethical Non-Monogamy/ENM, Fa’afafine, Faegender

Bottom row: Faggot, Faunagender x2, Faygender, Femaric, Femboy, Feminamoric, Floragender x3

Top row: Fluidflux x2, Frayromantic, Fraysexual, Futch x3 [x] [x] [x], Gai, Galaxian, Gay Man/MLM

Bottom row: Gay Man/MLM, Gay Man Double Mars, Gay Man by Pequodz x2, Gay Man by Sleepygender [both requested by anonymous], It/Its gay x2 [x] [The second was made by a user called magiciansrabbit, but it appears they have deactivated and I no longer can find the source], Neopronoun Gay, She/Her gay x2 [x] [x]

Top row: They/them gay, [pronouns & gay flags requested by anonymous] GENDERANARCHY x6, Genderfae, Genderfaun, Genderflor

Bottom row: Genderfluid, Genderflux, Genderfrith, Genderfruct, Gender Hoarder, Genderless, GenderNH/Gender Non-Human, Genderpunk x2, Genderqueer

Top row: Gendersatyr, Genderselkie, Gendersylph, Gendervoid x5, Ghostgender x2 [I cannot for the life of me find the source for this one] [x]

Bottom row: Ghostgender x2 [Again, I cannot find the proper source for this one] [x], Ghostgender [the other definition], Girlflux, Gender Non-Conforming/GNC, Greygender, Greyromantic, Greysexual, Heartless Aromantic, Heteroflexible

Top row: Hijra x2 [x] [x], Homoflexible, Intergender x2, Intersex x2, Juparian x2, Juxera

Bottom row: Juxera, Kenochoric, Kingender, Lavender Boy, Leather Community, Lesbian x5 [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [APL’s originally requested by anonymous]

Top row: Labrys Lesbian x2, Trans Labrys Lesbian x2, Lesbian Double Venus, Lesbian Anarchist, He/Him Lesbian x4

Bottom row: It/Its Lesbian x4, Neopronoun Lesbian x2, They/Them Lesbian x4 [pronouns & gay flags requested by anonymous]

Top row: Lesboy, Librafeminine, Libramasculine, Libranonbinary, Lithosexual, Loveless Aromantic x2 [x] [x], Loveloose Aromantic, Lovequeer, Lunagender

Bottom row: Lunagender, Lunarian x2, Lunettian x2, Magicgender x2, apparently mislabeled in their thumbnails oops [x] [x], Māhū, Marsic, Mascic

Top row: Maverique, Mercurian x2, Mergender x2, Mermaidgender x3 [x] [x], MOGAI, Moobloomio [requested by @fridgethesimmer]

Bottom row: Moobloomgender x2 [requested by @fridgethesimmer], Moongender x3, Multisexual Spectrum/M-Spec, M-Spec Gay, M-Spec Lesbian, Multigender, Multisexual

Top row: Muxe, Nebularian, Nebularomantic, Nebulasexual, Neptunian, Neptunic, Neurogender, Neutric, Neutrois, Non-SAM Aromantic

Bottom row: Nonbinary, Nonbinary Boy, Nonbinary Girl, Novarian, Nuumian, Objectum Sexual, Obligender, Omnisexual, Omni Gay, Omni Lesbian

Top row: Orchidromantic, Orchidsexual, Oriented Aroace, Pan Gay, Pan Lesbian x2 [x] [x], Panromantic, Pangender, Paraboy

Bottom row: Paragender, Paragirl, Paranonbinary, Plantgender x4 [x] [x], Plato-Ambivalent, Plato-Indifferent, Plato-Negative

Top row: Plato-Positive, Polyamorous Relationship Collector, Polyamorous x5 [x] [x] [x] [x] [x], Polygender, Polysexual, Ply Gay

Bottom row: Ply Lesbian x2 [x] [x], Pomogender, Pomoromantic, Pomosexual x2, Proxvir x2, Pupgender x2

Top row: Pupgender x2, Queer Anarchy, Queer x2 [chevrons originally requested by anonymous], Queerplatonic x2 [x] [x], Questioning, Quoiromantic, Quoisexual

Bottom row: Quoigender, Relationship Anarchy x3, Robotgender x4, [x] [x] [x] Robotogender x2

Top row: Romance-Ambivalent, Romance-Indifferent, Romance-Negative, Romance-Positive, Roseromantic, Rosesexual, Dual Rose, Sapphillean x2, Sapphic

Bottom row: Saturnic, Sex-Ambivalent, Sex-Indifferent, Sex-Negative, Sex-Positive, Singualarian, Solarian x2, Solaric, Sonnian

Top row: Spacialian, Stargender x2, Stellarian x2, Stellaric, Straight Gay x3 [x] [x], Straight Lesbian

Bottom row: Straight Lesbian, Strayt, Sungender x2, Systemfluid, T4T/Trans for Trans, Technosexual x2 [x] [x], Term Collector, Terraric

Top row: Torensexual, Toric, Therian, Tomboy, Transgender, Trans Man, Trans Woman, Transandrogynous, Transaporine, Transfeminine

Bottom row: Transfeminine, Transfemme Gay, Trans Gay x5 [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [requested by anonymous], TransHet, Trans Lesbian x2 [x] [x] [requested by anonymous]

Top row: Trans Lesbian x3 [x] [x] [x] [requested by anonymous], Transmasculine x2, Transmasc Gay, TransNeuFem x2, TransNeuMasc x2

Bottom row: Transneutral AFAB, Transneutral AMAB, Transneutral x2, Transoutherine, Transxenine, Black & Trans, Trigender, Trixensexual, Trixic

Top row: Twink, Two-Spirit x5 [x] [x] [x] [x] [x], Unlabeled x2, Unlabeled Gender, Uranic

Bottom row: Vampiregender x7 [x] [x] [x], Venusian x2, Venusic

Top row: Viramoric, Voidpunk, Voidrian, Warlockgender, Weregender x2, Werewolfgender x3 [x] [x], Witchgender

Bottom row: Witchgender, Wizardgender x3 [x] [x], Xenic, Xenogender x3 [x] [x] [x], Xyric, Zodiacgender

🌈🏳‍🌈🌈🏳‍🌈🌈🏳‍🌈🌈🏳‍🌈🌈🏳‍🌈🌈

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