#i don't know how it has fallen so hard...

[chaotic-toasters]

Gone

Cortnee Vine x Reader (taken from my Wattpad)

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

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

"Y/N, you good?" Kyra's usual mischevious grin was gone, replaced with a look of concern that was quickly mirrored by Charli. "You seem out of it."

It took a moment for you to realize she was talking to you, eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Uh– yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" the Gunner's voice was soft as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to not be okay."

"I'm sure," you insisted, shrugging her off. "You and Charli have fun."

You weren't fine. That much was clear to anybody with working eyes. You'd come down for meals, only to eat half of the amount you should have. You'd train, only to act like a robot who didn't know how to have fun. You spent hours cooped up in your room, only coming outside when Mini and Steph physically dragged you out. It was unhealthy, and everyone was starting to worry.

"Y/N?" Macca questioned, sitting down next to you. "What's going on with you?"

You glanced around briefly, taking note of all of your teammates gathered around the sofas.

"What is this? An intervention?" you joked dryly. "I'm just going through something small. I'll get over it soon, don't worry about it."

"Y/N, if you're going through something, you need to tell us," Sam chided. "We're—"

"We're a team, and a team is family, blah blah blah," you rolled your eyes. "I know. But I told you it's fine."

"It sounds stupid, but it's true," Mini crossed her arms. "So are you gonna tell us, or are you going to keep suffering alone?"

"I think I'll keep it to myself, thank you," you stood, patting your knees. "I'll see you guys later."

"Sit," Steph growled, forcing you back down. "Tony's already worried about you, but we've told him we'll handle it. Do you want us to get him involved?"

Your nostrils flared. "You wouldn't."

"We will if you don't open your fuckin' mouth and talk," the Defender glared. "You know I'll do it."

You were silent.

"Come on, Y/N, just tell us what's going on," Cortnee pleaded. "We're your friends."

Friends. Something you didn't want to be with the Sydney FC Winger. Since the first time you met her, and she'd smile shyly while offering you her hand to shake, you'd fallen for her. Hard. And it hurt. Because you knew she didn't feel the same. To make matters worse, she already had a girlfriend who she was happy with. Much happier than she'd be with you.

"Just... mind your own damn business," you retorted weakly, attempting to shake Steph off you. "I can handle my own problems."

"Your problems are our problems," Mini reminded you. "If something is bothering you, we're here to help."

"You and Steph," you nodded to the door. "No one else."

You stood first, leading your two mentors outside.

"Well?" Steph placed her hands know her hips.

"I like Cortnee," you blurted. "I— um..."

Mini raised her eyebrows. "Which one?"

"Uh... Vine."

"Okay. Continue."

"I've liked her for years," you swallowed. "But she doesn't like me like that. And she has a girlfriend. It's hard to— to see Cortnee when... when I know I'll never compare to her."

Steph and Mini shared a look.

"Come here, kiddo," Steph said gently, opening up her arms. "It'll be okay."

You slumped into her warm hug, crying softly into her shoulder. You didn't know if you should have been glad or upset that they didn't tell you to confess your feelings to Cortnee. That meant that your suspicions had been correct, and that she didn't feel the same, but that also mean your suspicions had been correct. A total catch-22.

"Why don't you take a nap, kiddo?" Steph whispered, caressing your forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

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

"I'm not gonna lie to her, Sam," Steph's voice was quiet. "I can't give her false hope. It's not like she believes it, anyway. Cortnee sees her as a friend. Nothing more."

"I just feel bad," Sam mumbled. "Are you sure there's nothing we can do?"

"I'm sure," the Defender confirmed sadly. "If she tells Viney, then things'll probably be awkward for one of them or both of them. If she doesn't tell Viney, then she has to keep her true feelings bottled up for the rest of her international career."

"No, I don't," you said suddenly, startling the the two captains. "I have a way out. And as much as it hurts to take it, it'll hurt more if I don't."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just as Dutch as I am Australian," you refused to meet both of their widening eyes. "I'm eligible to play for the Oranje Leeuwinnen Vrouwen."

"What?" Sam was dumbfounded. "But you can't... we're your family!"

"If you and Kristie both played for the same national team, but Kristie was in a relationship with someone else and didn't love you back, would you still want to play with that team?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

"It's been quite the ride," you stood, offering a faint smile to both Sam and Steph. "Thank you both. I don't know when my transfer will be approved, but... I can't see Cortnee anymore. It hurts. A lot."

Sam looked ready to protest, but Steph instantly wrapped you in a motherly hug. "I'm so proud of you. You're gonna do great things. Make sure you call me though, yeah?"

You swallowed. "Yeah. Could you—could you do me a favour?"

"Of course."

"Tell all the girls that—" you sucked in a breath. "Tell all the girls that I've loved every minute of this journey with them, and that it's none of their faults I'm leaving. Could you—could you tell them the truth? The whole truth? I would, but I can't be there to see Cort's reaction. It would kill me."

Sam nodded, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. "Good luck, Y/N. We'll be cheering you on, always."

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

"Thanks, Tony," you shook hands with the manager gratefully. "You've been great."

"You as well, Y/N," he stated kindly. "Just remember that you've always got family in this team. You can come to us if you've ever got a problem. The Matildas are behind you."

Your lip wobbled. "I'll see you around, boss."

"Have a good one, Y/N."

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

"As of today, Y/N will no longer play for Australia," Steph's voice shook slightly. "She'll be transferring to the Netherlands for the foreseeable future."

The room was dead silent.

"What?" Ellie was the first to speak. "Wh—why?"

Sam lowered her head. "She fell in love."

"With who!?" Cortnee looked upset. "She doesn't even have any Dutch teammates!"

Mini shook her head. "She didn't fall in love with a Dutch player."

"Then who—" Cortnee's eyes widened. "She likes one of us? Who?"

That's when it clicked for everyone else. The longing glances, the overly kind gestures, the touches that lasted just a bit too long; you loved Cortnee, but she hadn't even realized you liked her in the first place.

"Oh, Viney..." Lydia grimaced. "Poor Y/N."

"What is it?" the Winger was clearly starting to get annoyed that everyone knew something she didn't. "Just tell me already!"

Steph, Mini, and Sam all shared a look.

"Cort, there's no easy way to say this, but—" Steph felt as though there was something caught in her throat. "Y/N loved you. But she knew that you didn't feel the same."

Cortnee's breath hitched in her throat. She was suddenly taken back to a night at one of last year's training camps.

"Hey, Viney?" you started, slipping your phone into your pocket. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Shoot."

"Are you happy in your current relationship?" your tone was innocent.

She smiled. "Yeah. Char's so sweet, how could I not be happy? I could totally imagine a future with her."

Something in your eyes had shattered. That much was clear to her now. But she'd been too preoccupied thinking about her girlfriend that it had slipped her mind.

"Oh, Y/N..." Cortnee's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You deserve to be happy," her head snapped up at the sound of your raspy voice. "Who am I to take that away from you?"

"Y/N—"

"Thank you, girls, for my time here," you smiled weakly from the doorway, meeting each of your former teammates' eyes, though you struggled to meet Cortnee's. "It's been fun. I'm glad to have met all of you, to have shared the pitch with you, and most importantly, to become friends with all of you. I'll see you soon."

And just like that, you were gone.

#cortnee vine #Cortnee Vine x Reader #angsty angst #angst #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #matildas #australia wnt

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Peach..

I miss him so so much.

Can you gush about Jimin ?

Love how you wrote about him.

Thank you so so much in advance.

Whenever you are free. No pressure.

***

Hi @misslauwie

When your ask came in weeks ago, something in my chest squeezed a little. Because god yes I miss him too. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is kinda 'off', like everything is 'wrong', like we're all stuck in a holding pattern of sorts... And for anyone who thinks that's too dramatic, no it's not. Look around you. The world is kinda fucked, and the reason is because Jimin isn't on stage right now seducing the crowd performing like rent is past due, dancing his heart out, and singing like the fallen angel he is.

It's hard for me to talk about him these days though... I mean, there's always so much to say when it comes to Jimin, but the words don't form quite right for me these days.

Is it alright for me to simply post some pictures I come back to when I miss him and jikook?

Assuming I have your permission, that's what this post is going to be about.

(they cuddle)

*

There's this one from his last live before enlisting. Bare-faced, in an all black hoodie and beanie outfit looking hot as hell. It's the way he's giving 'Korean skaterboy who moonlights as a hacker', but at the same time he comes across as responsible, capable, and real. Cute too.

But lol, maybe that's just what I see when I'm biased.

*

Who else gets stuck looking at his eyes?

There's always so much to say about Jimin because literally everything about him could yield its own thesis. From the range and depth in his stage personas; to how pretty his body features are, before they morph into something more... deviant; to his voice that polarizes and entraps every audience. There's so much to talk about when it comes to Jimin, but I keep coming back to his eyes...

*

(This gave you whiplash didn't it :))

He's always known exactly what to do and how to do it.

*

Jimin is giving 70s cult leader in this shot and it's a fave. He's too modest to ever ask, but we all know we'd join a commune for him if he pulled that zipper down a little lower.

Anyway. Does anybody know why he likes this pair of shoes so much? I've always found them a bit ugly, but somehow, he makes it work. And it's clear he likes them a lot since he wears them all the time. But like... why?

*

Another picture I stare at on days when I miss jikook jikooking, is this one.

It's the moon in the shot that does it. The lines and symmetry, the afterglow of the sunset, Jimin's wide curved back, Jungkook focused on him, Jimin focused on him too, the fact someone else saw them like this and took this picture. They could've been chatting about what they'd like to eat for dinner or some other mundane thing, but it's the care and focus they show for each other that comes through so clearly for me in this shot.

*

This one has a place in my gallery because it's peak jikook.

*

As is this one:

*

Anyway.

Down bad for Baby G.

Imagine if PJM2 has a track like Set Me Free Pt 2 + Tony Montana... imagine the cataclysm it will cause in k-pop, imagine the havoc this cutie patootie pie will cause.

*

Sigh.

*

One day, when I find the words, I'll try to write about all the ways he charms. I owe a kind person from Tumblr (KPFT) a post about him.

*

In 2025, he'll be a 30 year old man desperate to get back on stage. And lord, I just hope everyone is ready.

*

This is the last one.

I come back to this picture sometimes because back then, they really did just have eyeliner and a dream. He gave his all right from the start and has created life-changing art. It's endearing to know he's both a bit of a workaholic and can be lazy too... and to know he still sleeps the exact way - like this:

...and this:

..and this:

*

@misslauwie I miss him too. Also miss Jungkook and the rest of the tannies. For Jimin, it makes me very happy that at least, Jungkook is with him.

He'll be back soon. 💜

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #bts

[thehauntedinfirmary]

Fic Rec Friday Edition 35

Welcome to Fic Rec Friday! I HOPE you're in the mood to READ this week!

How did it end? by Ren_Saxon Complete | 3k words

Ryan pulled off him just for a moment, his head spinning again as he looked down at Shane - kissed-red lips, half-parted, asking for more, his cheeks flushed and his hair ruffled. The painful reminder, the symbol of his life having crumbled over night, fallen apart, gone up in flames. You can have either one or the other, his own voice reminded him mockingly. But never both.

Extra Scratch by sequence_fairy Complete | 500 words

"Who gives you that extra scratch to keep your pretty little asshole bleached?"

Big Apple Steve and That Time He Obliviously Third-Wheeled His Friends All Summer by beethechange Complete | 12k words

Steven Lim is not a stupid man. Steven Lim is a capable man, an ex-scientist, creator and producer of Buzzfeed’s most popular video series. He helped invent Tide Pods, for Pete’s sake. Tide Pods. So he knows he’s no idiot. He’s naïve, perhaps. He has blind spots, like anyone, particularly when it comes to relationships, especially when it comes to sex. Still, when he walks in on Ryan sitting astride Shane’s lap on the sofa, tongue fully in the guy’s mouth, hand fully down his pants, Steven reckons he should probably have seen this one coming.

The Law of Parsimony by ÉcrivainFantôme Complete | 26k words

The Law of Parsimony - Also called ‘Occam's razor’, is a mental model which states that “it is futile to do with more what can be done with fewer”— In other words, the simplest explanation is most likely the right one; no matter how unlikely. Shane tries really hard to hear the voices when he’s doing the Estes method for Ryan. It’s just, you know. This time, he hears the voices after the Estes method has stopped, too.

Don't Forget To LycanSubscribe by breathtaken Complete | 24k words

Shane looks up and nearly swallows his tongue as he finds himself face-to-face with Ryan from LycanSubscribe. The YouTube channel that’s consumed most of Shane’s leisure time and pretty much all his waking thoughts for the past two weeks, not to mention a couple of vaguely guilty jerk-off sessions. Ryan’s wearing a white T-shirt with a pair of sunglasses hooked onto the neck and there’s a stray lock of hair curling over his forehead, and he’s even more startlingly attractive in the flesh—which in Shane’s opinion is saying something. He says, “Hi, can I get a—” “Grande iced chai latte,” Shane blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Hold You By The Edges by Exorin and sequence_fairy Complete | 7k words

Shane’s got one knee on the couch when they separate. He’s crowding over Steven, pressing him back into the cushions. There’s a delicate flush on Steven’s cheeks, his mouth still slightly parted when Shane pulls away. “You’re sure this is okay?” Shane asks, sliding onto the couch beside Steven without breaking the contact of his hand against Steven’s face. Instead of answering, Steven’s leaning in again, nodding yes with his eyes gently closed. Shane gently stops him with a hand on his chest and waits until Steven’s eyes flutter open again. “Hey, I need you to say it out loud for me,” Shane says, his voice so low and careful.

darling it's a faded notion by varnes Complete | 29k words

The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall. They were pushed. OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

Begin the Begin, Over and Over by beethechange Complete | 33k words

Shane only agrees to be handcuffed to Ryan for a video because he can put up with anything for twenty-four hours. That’s the funny thing about time loops, though—they don’t always adhere to the parameters set by clickbait videos.

tear down the doors, throw open windows by VileKepler Complete | 97k words

Watcher's newest project, Bed & Breakfast & Boys, should really have made Ryan figure out some stuff sooner. Because staying at nice hotels for romantic weekend getaways alone with his best friend really shouldn't make his palms all clammy. Or, 5 times Ryan and Shane stayed in cool hotels for a show + 1 time for themselves.

Nothing safe is worth the drive by Ren_Saxon Complete | 5k words

Shane hates driving. Shane hates the unfamiliar streets of LA. Shane does not hate the hot guy he accidentally cut off at an intersection - who somehow found him on Grindr of all places.

Once Upon a Porno by GomorrahHillsides Complete | 15k words

Seeking comfort after a hellish nightmare, Ryan drops in on Shane late at night. He uses the spare key, thinking the Big Guy's asleep. Spoiler : he's not. How one awkward moment can change your future. Or, the story of how two grown men end up forging a deeper, more intimate relationship by way of dubbing a period piece porno together.

drink up by mccxxvi Complete | 2k words

He shouldn’t do this anymore. They shouldn’t do this anymore. Last time was the last time.

Like a Little Clock by fightingfuries Complete | 2k words

"We can go a day without kissing." Shane looks sceptical. "We can! Especially if you are your usual asshole self. Just pick a fight with me and I'll be cured of wanting to kiss you for 24 hours easy." Shane snorts. "That's not gonna work. Arguing turns you on." or, Shane and Ryan test if they're still in a time loop

"If you really wanna move the needle..." by StrangeAndOffPudding Complete | 26k words

Ryan's curiosity is piqued when Shane acts shifty about a seemingly innocent taunt. Shane internally battles a secret weakness and desire that is more than a little embarrassing. Over the course of a ghost-hunting roadtrip to film a new season of Ghost Files, Ryan pokes and prods at this wall until Shane's defenses crumble, and he admits what he REALLY thinks of all those teasing touches - but is it just body chemistry, or does this escalating intimacy say more about their relationship than either one realized?

Want to learn more about The Haunted Infirmary? Check out our pinned post!

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #shyan fic rec #otp: we took an oath #friday fic recs #haunted fic recs

[ericeffiorg]

another week, another ted lasso rant (lol)

this latest episode had so much potential to do something of importance. they set everything up so well for colin to have a meaningful coming out story with a supportive team that made it about him, but there’s this thing that straight creatives do where they try to make being gay not seem like a big deal and try to normalise it, but their method of normalising it is to remove its importance and try to minimalise the dangers, fears and liberation that comes with coming out.

they spent half the episode dealing with colin and isaac’s issues fairly well, as isaac was processing it. it was a bit on the nose and felt more like how a parent would react initially rather than a 20 something man in 2023, but whatever, it still felt like it was going somewhere.

but then the fight happened, and suddenly it was all about isaac. everyone was talking about isaac’s anger, his ability to be team captain, what that means for richmond, and whether he is gay. 

and then it came to colin actually coming out, and instead of getting colin to say the words “i’m gay”, we cut straight back to isaac, who gets comforted by roy, and we then focus on roy and isaac, the former of which is only here so he can develop his own personal story. so again, nobody here’s story is relevant to the actual queer person in question.

we then go back to colin coming out, and ted makes a stupid story about someone being a fan of a different football team and they even point out how irrelevant it is, so literally what was the point? colin had so much time taken away from actually coming out and it was given to his straight friend and straight coaches. and then they make these references to oprah and “what’s a top or bottom?” which feel like they’re being written by a 50 year old who googled some gay forum from the 2000s to get his knowledge.

the whole story was just silly because we spent so long focusing on isaac, and even then, that wasn’t even about isaac. it was about isaac worrying about colin and in turn taking away time from colin so who was this whole story even about? who benefitted? because we know nothing more about either man, and there was next to no development that came from it. just isaac acting out and colin being silenced. roy and ted got more from this than isaac or colin so what was the point of it all...

a big issue this show has is that it doesn’t know how to tackle toxic masculinity without making it a big joke. homophobia in football is something we’ve seen in real life a few times, and we know horrific it can get. and this show - based in a very male dominated avenue and constantly dealing with toxic masculinity - had a huge chance to do something but because their take on the topic never goes beyond “isnt it funny how anti toxic masculinity i am?”, they couldn’t hackle.

isaac’s dialogue was written like he was a freshman from high school (because what man in their 20′s reacts to his friend coming out like that?) this show constantly infantilises these men as a way to “challenge” toxic masculinity, and it’s just so irritating. why are ted and roy the only men allowed to actually confront anything in a serious way?

atp, i just don’t want ted lasso to touch queer stories ever again. they don’t know how to handle it without putting in some dumb joke that takes up half the screen time just to get to the punchline.

colin and isaac had so much potential and neither of them benefitted. it was just a way to give jason a “funny” monologue for his emmy campaign and for roy (a grown man who has been in this business for decades) to learn how to speak to people. 

#so close to dropping it atp #bc s1 and 2 were so excellent #i don't know how it has fallen so hard... #ted lasso #ted lasso rant #tv thoughts #ted lasso s3 #ted lasso s03e09

[dichromaticdyke]

#Evanescence #metal #MJ's OST #im gna be autistic about this song in the tags real fast #it is so fucking sad to me that this song didn't get a synthesis remake #not that it needs one—this version is perfect #BUT. #that makes this the only Fallen song that had existed since their baby EP days to not make it to Synthesis #if you don't know #there were three songs off Fallen that had been written WAY back while amy and ben were in high school or even middle school #and that they had been working on and refining multiple times until Fallen was released #those songs were: “Imaginary” “My Immortal” and “Whisper” #the first two first appeared on the evanescence ep and whisper first appeared on the sound asleep ep and all three were on origin #and i think a synthesis version of whisper would've been GORGEOUS #like this song is so fucking good and i love most of the demos of it (the post-origin demo goes so hard) but it's also so underrated #it has the least amount of streams of any Fallen song and i dont understand how that's possible #ugh. anyway. #gothic metal

[raraeavesmoriendi]

it’s one of those days where I either didn’t hear back on something I’m waiting around about, or what I did hear was deeply aggravating, and my hormones are making it very hard not to take it personally

#Rae grumbles #I think my friend who was supposed to visit this summer forgot or won't be here until much later than they said #another has fallen off the face of the earth afaik #so idk what her deal is anymore #I'm kind of stuck at my parents' house bc I don't want to bum around a college town in the summer solo #but I'm facing the possibility that I might have to if I actually want to get some work done and not just get treated like a free assistant #and my comm got pushed back another month which! fine! it takes what it takes! but I was really hoping for some good news today #idk how I wound up writing my dissertation alone but let me tell you! I don't recommend it! #I don't regret being there for my friends when they were going through the process #and I know they have their own jobs now #but it's hard not to feel a little resentful sometimes yk #does anyone know a metal cover of 'youre on your own kid' so I don't wreck my spotify #negativity cw

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost smut #cod mw2

[shoezuki]

Guys holy shit there's something going on w SCP shit I just found out thru the reddit scp sub and I'm losing my mind so much I need to report on this OK like.

So there are joke scps. If u don't know. That are jokes. Usually digs at common tropes on scps like the rock that makes u procrastinate is probably the most famous joke scp. Or the one I can't find rn where the researchers in the article are critiquing the scp item for being too tropey.

But. There's a new joke scp. SCP-021-J. It was posted yesterday and it's fighting for its fucking life. It has been slingshotting between bein rated -5 to +12 this whole time. The discussion on it is wild people fucking hate it or love it. Hard-core scp ppl are goin on paragraphs bout how it's not funny, its not even anything it's jus the worst of 'lol random' internet humour. And then there's the enjoyers who are jus like 'lol mfer can't handle it'

And all it is. Is evil water bottle.

This is it. The entire article. Evil :(

And ppl are LOSING IT. the discussion is full of ppl talkin like this is a sign and example of how the scp site has fallen so far, that scps are all shit now and things like this are taking away from Actually Good Scps. That it's disgusting and horrible. Like genuinely here's one dude calling it actually problematic

And this battle in the forum is genuinely the funniest thing bout this article like this exchange shows it perfectly

#i upvoted it i want this thing to live #SCP #mfers cant handle EVIL WATER BOTTLE #also the author has said fuck all bout it which is funnier to me. theres no meaning here. evil :(

[angelltheninth]

Lovesick Jujutsu Kaisen Characters

Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Gojo, Nanami, Geto x Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, dating, pining, confessions, teasing, gift giving, shopping, quality time, protectiveness, clothes sharing, possessiveness

A/N: I'm really excited for this arc! I heard it's awesome!

Lovesick!Yuuji is the cutest guy he could be. He's all big smiles, falling over his words, acting big and protective and at the same time so soft when you thank him or compliment him. He takes you on a date and doesn't even know it until you kiss him. If he could shout out his happiness he would, he wants everyone to know you're dating. By the next day most of his friends do.

Lovesick!Sukuna would never act in such a way if it's obvious. He will get the scary kind of lovesick, hovering over your shoulder, scaring away everyone else, leaving bites on your skin with beaming pride. There's no way that he would be in love with someone and not mark them as his, it doesn't matter if you know about his feelings, in his mind you're already his.

Lovesick!Megumi pines from a distance, looking at you with puppydog eyes for a good long while before making a very calculated confession. There's no room for error... so of course things go wrong. You don't mind as long you're having a good time with him, and he should really learn to loosen up. Maybe now he finally can, now that he's no longer hiding his feelings for you.

Lovesick!Nobara takes you shopping for clothes just like always. Almost like always. This time she keeps going on and on about how cute you'd look in matching clothes. You definitely have to buy matching shirts, those really big ones. Now that you're a couple she wants to show it in so many ways, and fashion is one of them.

Lovesick!Maki wants to be with you all the time, look at you, hug you, kiss you. So much of practice is spent with her flirting with you, complimenting you and saying what a good team you make. Outside of training she invites you to get food, but then you take it to go and eat it over at hers. Of course you can spend the night too, feel free to take some of her clothes to sleep in. She never lends her clothes to anyone but it looks too good on you for her to say no.

Lovesick!Gojo talks your ear off with compliments. And teasing there is a whole lot of that once he notices how you react to his words. His heart grows a hundred sizes when he makes you blush, it's too good, he has to make it happen as much as possible. It makes him so happy. Except one of his attempts end in your confession. He was hoping for that, now he doesn't have to pretend it's just teasing anymore, and he can kiss you every time he sees you.

Lovesick!Nanami buys you a lot of gifts. He doesn't talk to people unless he really likes them, or pays attention to them, let alone brings gifts to them. At first you think he's messing with you but then you see him smile when you accept his gift. Damn, he's being serious here isn't he? Next time you bring him a gift too and let him know you want to date.

Lovesick!Geto thinks it can't happen to him, that he makes other lovesick and he doesn't even know it's happening. He gradually begins to get more protective, looking forward to seeing your face, spending time with you. Kissing his cheek made his heart flutter... oh... oh no... he's falling for you! No, he's already fallen. In that case there's no turning back, he has to see where this goes and make you fall just as hard, no even harder.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #sukuna x reader #nobara x reader #maki x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #yuuji fluff #sukuna fluff #megumi fluff #nobara fluff #maki fluff #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #geto fluff #x reader

[headspace-hotel]

nature things that a lot of people don't know about and weren't even taught about adequately, but they're actually really fundamental and important to know about

how rivers work. Where do they get started? how do they decide which way to flow?? what makes one river muddy and the other one clear?

[They flow downhill. Always. If a river is flowing a Way, that way is Downhill. They start with rain flowing or soaking downhill until it forms into a little trickle through a channel like a gully or drainage ditch, and the farther it flows the more other trickles flow into it from the land around it, until you have a stream, and the streams all flow downhill until they run into each other, and eventually you have a river which finally reaches the ocean. Rivers never flow FROM the ocean because the ocean is the most downhill you can possibly go. I don't think rivers usually split in two—a fork in a waterway is usually two rivers joining together.]

[On the subject of pollution, rain is usually supposed to soak slowly through the layer of leaves, roots, and dead plant material that covers most biomes. But if you tear up the plants and leave bare mud, or replace a forest with a muddy cow pasture, there's no filter, and mud and contaminants wash into the river. Just plain mud can be pollution.]

how soil works. What makes different soils different? Why are some soils good for growing a garden and others terrible? Does it need more fertilizer?

[The sand, silt, clay diagram is very simplified and only deals with one aspect of soil. Roots, soil animals, fungi, and dead plant material are all part of soil and affect its structure, making it spongy and full of holes and passages for nutrients, water, and new roots. Tilling can break hard soil, but tilling doesn't make soil light, fluffy, and permeable—disturbing the soil as little as possible, protecting it with a layer of plant material, and allowing the natural life forms of the soil develop their networks and tunnels and slowly break down the plant material layer does. This is also very simplified. Soil is COMPLICATED.]

what fungi are, and whether they are dangerous.

[fungi cannot harm you unless you eat them or unless they're growing inside your house and you're inhaling their spores in a concentrated space. There's like, one species in Japan that causes skin irritation. You can touch any other species without any harm whatsoever. *Most* of them don't harm your garden either—in fact, most plants connect their root systems to the fungal mycelium in the soil and receive nutrients from the fungus in exchange for the products of photosynthesis.]

Whether lichen harm trees

[no. They're just hanging out. But a LOT of lichen on a tree might be a sign that the tree is dying. It's not the lichen's fault though.]

What moss is??

[it's a plant, but a very simple plant that doesn't have any vessels for transporting water, so it has to live somewhere damp and soak it up like a sponge. There are hundreds of species of moss, and different species live on the side of a boulder vs. the top, or a living tree trunk vs. a fallen dead tree trunk!]

where bugs go in the winter? I straight up had a book as a kid that told me that they just die, without explaining how the species doesn't go extinct if the winter kills them all.

[Tl;dr they're usually hibernating in fallen leaves and dead wood and plant material. Some do this as eggs or larvae/caterpillars; in this case the adults do die, but their children sleep peacefully through the winter to awake in the spring. And still others hibernate as adults. This is why you don't clean up your flower beds until late spring.]

How Many plants there are

[WAY more than you think]

How ecosystems work apart from "everything is out to get everything else and take resources from other organisms."

[Competition and cooperation are both important in ecosystems! Weeds are competitive and they can choke out other plants, but they also protect the soil from erosion and harsh sunlight, keeping it moist and helping organic matter to build up. A lot of plants, when they're young, need to be sheltered by other plants that protect them from dryness, heat, and herbivores. This isn't even getting into how some plants will send nutrients to seedlings or to understory plants in a forest! Before industrial agriculture made monocultures dominant, people used and were familiar with cooperative relationships between plants a LOT more.]

The range of creatures that are pollinators, and how important the variety is.

[Bees, wasps, butterflies, moths, flies, ants, beetles, hummingbirds, and bats are all pollinators, and flowers are usually shaped and colored and scented to attract particular pollinators. Bees can't do everything, and honey bees are only one kind of bee. Red flowers and long tube shaped flowers are often for hummingbirds, pale-colored flowers that open at night need moths, and flowers that give off strong foul odors often attract flies. It gets WAY more complicated than that—sometimes a flower is only pollinated by a single species of bee or wasp or beetle.]

How many bees there are besides honey bees

[LOTS. And you've probably never seen most of them, if you don't regularly spend time around native plants! There are 140 species of longhorn bee alone, and most people haven't even heard of longhorn bees! There are well over a hundred bumble bees too! Bees come in bright, metallic green, blue, and pure gold. In the USA where I live, some of the most endangered bees are the adorable, fluffy bumble bees—the American Bumble Bee is threatened, and we have some species, like the rusty-patched bumble bee, that are critically endangered.]

[Please, please, please do not use pesticides on plants unless it is a necessity, and please do a LOT of research on the specific pesticide you are using and its effects on non-target insects. If there is any alternative, Do Not Do It. ESPECIALLY not pesticides that come in dust or powder form, ESPECIALLY in the USA, because regulations are so loose here that regular people can buy pesticides in dust form that are horribly toxic to bees.]

[How horribly toxic? A pesticide like Sevin dust will cling to the fuzz on every single bee that visits your plant—like pollen—and those bees will probably die. And in social bees, before they die, they will take the poison back to their hive (like pollen) and potentially kill the entire hive.]

#nature

[toxicanonymity]

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel master list

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prequel), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .  

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous.  He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it.  He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable. 

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you.  Of course it would.

-

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too.  He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun. 

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you. 

“Can I see it?” you ask. 

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?” 

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate.  “Can ya gimme a second, honey?” 

“Okay.”  He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away.  “Now?”

“No.  Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make. 

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.” 

“Why?" 

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer. 

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.” 

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.” 

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”  

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs. 

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions. 

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly.  Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad.  If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop. 

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway. 

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like.  Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit. 

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft. 

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach.  You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste. 

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily. 

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips.  He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch. 

Then, your lips wrap around the head.  He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”  

 You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more. 

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating. 

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs. 

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees.  In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel. 

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum.  It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.” 

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop. 

“Good girl,” he sighs and  cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need.  You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it.  You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief.  He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on.  But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it.  “Good girl, that’s real good,  honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away.  Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body.  He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep. 

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself. 

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.  

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change. 

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself. 

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair. 

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all." 

"I know." 

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all. 

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

���Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs. 

"You want a hand?"  

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass.  "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?" 

You're quiet. 

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.” 

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit. 

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.” 

“Okay.”  You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down. 

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats. 

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact.  He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah," 

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs." 

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit. 

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper. 

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.  

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip. 

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.”  You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you. 

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.” 

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say. 

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that. 

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper.  You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good. 

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time. 

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes.  His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”  

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty. 

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer.  He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.”  You turn around and face him.  “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath.  He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.”  He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod.  He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

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Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #joel miller x innocent reader #joel miller x virgin reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic #tw virginity loss #Finally F*cking Friday

[foone]

Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"

#Archivist ranting

[mo-aiki]

One-sided Love Exist... (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: You have been in love with your fiancé, but all you know is that he isn't in love with you until you do something about it.

Notes: I got this inspiration from @mayulla, their story is here. Also, I might or might not do a part 2 for this story so wait on that

Warning: fake love, forced love, obsession, I don't condone these behaviors, I just write it.

Love.

Something you have always wished for to happen to you. All of the love stories you have read. You wished to be the princess saved by her knight or to be a princess who saves the one she loves. That was all you wanted. A knight or a prince in shining armor. That's where your fiancé came in.

A duke's son. Your fiancé, Alaric de Caius. He had seemed to fit the mold, perfectly. He looked regal and handsome with his black hair and dark blue eyes. You were only 9 when you had met him, but you couldn't help but smile when you first saw him.

Overtime you had absolutely fallen in love with him. He was a man of morals, he believe in the same things as you of what was right and wrong, he was academically talented, he was athletically talented, and he treated people around him the same whether or not they held a title.

A wonderful man.

But the problems arose when you had seen he had never paid attention towards you.

He never looked you way, seemed to say anything towards you, or seem to acknowledge you at all.

"Good morning Alaric!"

He wouldn't look.

You didn't understand why he ignored you. His indifference towards you, hurt. You didn't know if it was your ego that was hurting or it was truly your heart that was hurting, but something was in pain. But you didn't give up! Both of you were bound to get married to each other, one day!

Often talking to him first, soon enough he responded.

Bringing sweets such as cookies or sweet bread from the kitchen. Watching him eat it with no signs of disgust, might have made your day.

But you must also strive hard too! To be worthy of being a Duchess, you must help him by studying, taking up hobbies such as perfecting painting, embroidery and writing poems that have deep meanings. You must also know how to manage a household, so you asked your father if you could learn how to manage the servant's wages and everything going on in the household.

Everything you did was for him.

You did not partake in gossip with your bestest of friends, you didn't spread malicious rumors about someone, and you tried not to do the most selfish thing if there was a selfless option. Your friends, love you but saw you in pain. "Why do you do these stressful things (y/n)?" they would constantly ask.

"Because I am going to be future Duchess one day, I must prepare!" You would say cheerfully.

Alina Thompson.

Her family was new money. Her father was a merchant who was able to strike gold in selling a once thought, rare ore. Opening trades with the east, she has risen to become the daughter or Baron Thompson.

Your friends didn't like her. One of them saying, "There is something off about her..." and another saying, "Why does she look at Duke Caius like that..."

You had brought it up to Alaric one day. He said there was, "Nothing to worry about, she is just an acquaintance.", and at first you didn't worry, heck you even befriended her. She was pretty. Her hair, long and blonde, her eyes a bright green color like emeralds, and her smile the brightest you have ever seen. She often wore pink and you did as well. But she always seemed to not get along with your friends after a few meetings. Or any noble women in fact. She had always stirred the pot with the other women in high society, supposedly acting different as if she had 2 different personalities in front of others. But she had always gotten along with the men. They spoke high praises of her. From her looks to personality. She even had admirers of her own. She was perfect, but most women disliked her. But you didn't think anything of it.

Until the day of the royal ball.

You saw with your very own eyes. Alaric's arm, being held by her's. She had the brightest, most shameless smile that day. All the men looked uncomfortable while the women were shocked. It was no secret that you and Alaric were engaged. And it was definitely no secret that you were in love with him.

They danced together. They wore matching outfits. Even the flowers on both of their corsages were the same. He had smiled at her as they were dancing. He gave her, her first dance of high society at her first ball, a royal one in fact. There was no way he had no idea what he meant by his actions. Your heart shattered as your friends got mad at both of them.

"Why that sly fox! How could she betray your kindness like this?!"

"(y/n)! If you need to I can kill him myself!"

"No!" you had quietly yelled out.

You friends looked at you, worried on their faces. "(b/s/f #1), (b/s/f #2), I need to...go..."

You ran away towards the royal garden, letting your tears to flow down.

Once you got home, you destroyed the books, the gifts he gave you and finally sat down on the floor and cried you heart out.

Your heart had shattered that day, nothing felt like it was going to fix it. It felt like the end of the world.

The next day came, and you holed yourself up in your room.

Your bedroom door would not open. Nothing will work. Your father was worried, your friends, pestered at you, and the servants knock and check up on you as well. But even though you knew all these people cared, you truly only wanted one person to come and see you, Alaric.

You don't know if you were a masochist or not, but you did want answers.

Soon, one of the maids came in. "Leave me alone..." you mumbled in your pillow.

"No. Duke Caius is here to visit you. So I must get you ready, young lady."

You looked up at the maid as she chuckled. "What's so funny?" you asked almost like a pouting child.

"Your eyes are puffy my lady. If you do not want the Duke to notice it, I suggest you get ready, now."

You pouted as you got up.

The next thing you knew, you had seen Alaric. His perfectly combed over hair, his eyes, calm, and the placement of his lapels, in order as followed. You had bowed your head down slightly, as he sat down at the table.

You didn't even bother looking at him. If you did, you didn't think you could bear it. It was an embarrassing night for you. All you did was look at your tea, slowly stirring the sugar cube, looking at it and spacing out in the process.

"(y/n)?"

You looked up. This was the first time he had ever called out your name. He had always referred to you as Lady (l/n), out of formality, but he has never called out your name like you do his.

"Did you hear what I said?"

You took a moment and shook your head. "No, I'm sorry..."

"That's okay, I can say it again."

Why did your heart tug at this? You felt yourself being anxious for what he wanted to say. But first you wanted the answer to why he brought Alina to the royal ball the other night.

"I had brought out Lady Thompson to the ball a few nights ago, because of her father. He had wanted to make sure his daughter secured an escort for her first royal ball. He had insisted I had better escort her, otherwise she wouldn't come."

An excuse.

"I helped her father find the rare ore that had made him Baron. I must help him again."

Lies.

"So that's your excuse..." you mumbled out of your mouth.

He looked at you, his eyes were still. He had no emotion after what you had just said. "(y/n), it's the truth."

"Lies. We are engaged, but my debutant ball and first royal ball, you didn't escort me at all."

You remember it well. He had said he was busy, and you thought nothing of it, because he wouldn't escort or dance with anyone else anyways.

"When we had our first dance, you didn't even look at me."

It broke your heart that night when you both finally had that first dance you had been waiting for, only to be sad when he didn't smile, look or seemed to be enjoying it in any way.

"I had wanted us to get matching outfits, but you held it off saying, 'you hadn't gotten measured yet'."

He would get measured for an outfit for another woman, but not you? His own fiancé?

You felt nothing but anger now towards him. "Was it a waste of my time to devote it all towards you? I know your favorite snacks, colors, meal, drink, what to do as duchess..."

You felt like you were about to cry again, but tried to hold it in. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?!" your hands slammed the table as you felt your tears coming down your face as you looked at him.

Hoping he would say it wasn't in vain. That all of these things you did for him, would mean something.

"I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

You couldn't believe you had ever loved this man.

You immediately went back inside, and into your room to cry once more.

Alaric has never needed anyone close to him.

He never understood you and your stupid antics to get closer towards him. From bringing snacks, to gifting the books he so wanted, to talking to him way to often.

He had an alright childhood. His father was sick and his mother was dead from childbirth, so he needed to become duke heir at a young age. Relying on himself to make the right or wrong decisions while his father's health deteriorated overtime.

His father wanted him to get married to his close friend, Marquis (l/n), so he arranged the engagement before his death, and after his death when he was 15, he kept it on because it was one of his father's final wishes. To see their families united.

But sometimes he couldn't stand (y/n). When he first met her, he had no opinions of her, other than the fact that she was nothing more than a clumsy girl trying to get his attention.

She was trying to live out fairytale romances through him. She had wanted him to be her knight in shining armor. And he didn't care for it.

He ignored her until she kept on pestering him.

Soon, they did their small talks.

He ignored the food she had gave him.

Until he ate it because he was hungry and it was his favorites.

He ignored her all throughout his childhood, because he never needed her as much as he did. He saw her as pathetic, but he couldn't help but fuel her pathetic attempts to get him to love her.

He did didn't need her. He didn't need her at all.

Plus, she was well liked. Both women and men liked her. But sometimes those men that liked her too much got on his nerves to the point of threatening them into silence. She didn't need him, she wanted him. And he didn't need her as well.

But he thought he felt something when he met Alina for the first time. But later, he realized it was nothing more than curiosity. But whenever he was around (y/n), there was always a feeling that he didn't know what it was, but always put it off, until it came creeping onto him whenever he was with Alina.

It was clear she was jealous of (y/n) and her life, so she had tried to mimic her. Her cheery attitude, beautiful smile, and her happy-go-lucky demeanor, even though he could tell that she was nothing more than hollow shell of an impression. She did all these things so that he could pay attention to her. But Alina was worse than (y/n).

Her personality and character are terrible.

She always seemed to get into fights with the other women. Whether petty drama or something a tad bit more serious. She had always seem to never get along with them. Unlike (y/n).

She was terrible at any financial things. Counting money properly, distributing money equally, and figuring out the budget. Unlike (y/n)

She had always seemed to look at others as if she was better than them. Often subtly bragging a new pendant, earrings, bracelet, shoes, dress, or hair accessories. Unlike (y/n)

Her tea was awful to drink. She always stepped on someone's toes for no good reason. Her embroidery was lackluster. Her paintings, a clear imitation. Unlike (y/n).

He remembered a time where (y/n)'s tea was bitter, when she stepped on someone's feet while dancing, when her paintings were dull, and when she had a hard time managing money. It was absolutely a clumsy and nerve-racking time. But slowly, it had shown improvement, unlike Alina's tea.

All of these hobbies that Alina had picked up and all of her personal quirks have cause him to realize one thing.

He would never look her way.

He picked Alina because he thought he could finally drive (y/n) away from her antics and say he is not interested in her at all.

When he went to the royal ball and was dancing with Alina, all he could ever think of was how (y/n) would react in the same situation. Her bright smile, cheerful eyes and glowing aura would all be very lovely. He couldn't help but unconsciously smile during the dance, and it seemed to have fueled Alina's determination to take her down.

But now he wonders why he had those thoughts during the dance with Alina.

She had holed up in her manor ever since that royal ball.

Alaric didn't see her. No letter, no snacks, no anything. Nothing had came. He should be elated. Happy. Excited. Joyful.

But all he felt was a big hole. A big empty hole somewhere in his body.

He had thought he had heard her all over the place. "Alaric. You need to stop overworking yourself to death! You might get sick!"

"It's none of your concerns, Lady (l/n)."

"Huh?"

He looked up from his paperwork, only to see his secretary looking at him, confused? "What did you say, Your Grace?"'

He looked down at his paperwork. "Nothing of note."

It happened again when he was reading through the manor's ledgers. "Can I help you with that Alaric? I'm very good with ledgers!"

"It is fine Lady (l/n)."

"Your Grace?"

Once again, he looked up only to see his butler, looking at him confused.

He felt like he was going insane.

He had developed a high fever one day from overworking. His butler called in the family's doctor, and the doctor said to take a break today.

But his fever kept on running, and the maids didn't know what to do. They gave him water that was too hot, his body kept on sweating, and they gave him food too salty for his condition. They were all incompetent when he was sick all of the sudden. And to top it off, his secretary still needed him to do paperwork for the estate.

During his time with his fever, he unconsciously only thought to see one person. (y/n).

He had wanted her to be by his side when he was sick. To take care of him and to see him recover. He wanted her to scold at him for overworking. He wanted to see her happy after he did recover from this fever. He had wanted to see her, no, he felt like he needed to see her.

He slowly opened his eyes as he was asleep for a bit. He thought he saw her in his groggy state. "...(y/n)..?"

Only to finally see clearly. It was Alina. And she looked pissed, but he was even more pissed. "How dare you! How dare you call out the name of that woman when I'm here?!"

He got up and yelled. "GUARDS!"

She got mad. "Oh, now you're calling the guards?! I came here to help you! And this is what I get?!"

He looked at her with contempt. "How did you know I was sick?"

She looked anxious. "The butler told me! He contacted me with a letter! Look!"

She pulled out a messily handwritten letter as people came up towards his room. His secretary and butler came to his side. "Who is this?" his secretary asked.

Alaric's head was banging, but managed to respond. "Lady Thompson. I do not know how she got here."

Alina looked scarred as the secretary called a maid to call the guards. "How did you get in here Lady Thompson?"

"I got here because the butler told me to come here because His Grace is sick!"

The butler looked confused. "I do not recall writing a letter to anyone."

Alina got mad. "Yes you did! I have the evidence!"

She held her letter as the secretary grabbed it out of her hands. "Butler, is this your handwriting?"

The butler fixed his glasses and shook his head. "I do not write this sloppily, even when writing fast."

Alina got even more mad as the guard got up the stairs. "Your Grace?"

"Take her away, and make sure she never sets foot in the estate again."

"Wha..? HEY!" The guards took Alina while she protested. All the servants went back to work as his secretary looked at him. "I will investigate where that letter came from, Your Grace."

Alaric looked at the ceiling as he started to lay down in his bed. "There is no need. But do investigate how she got in here and how she knew. We might have a stalker on our hands if I'm not careful..."

His secretary nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I hope you recover quickly, soon."

All he could do is stare up to the ceiling. Thinking. If (y/n) had done this, maybe he wouldn't had been as mad as he was back there. Maybe he would had enjoyed her trying to fumble out a response of how she knew he was sick. Maybe he would had enjoyed her antics of trying to cure him of his fever.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly fell back asleep, dreaming.

When he had gotten better after 3 days, he immediately went to the (l/n) estate. He didn't know why, but he needed to go there after his fever.

He was led to the garden as he waited for her to get ready. Then he looked around. The garden was filled with flowers. Pink, white, purple, and blue flowers seemed to be her favorite. The servants brought out her favorite tea set. A pink and white ceramic one. He has only seen it every time she had hosted her friends. She only brought out the other tea sets with him.

She looked different. She looked less lively. Her skin looked pale, her eyes a bit puffy and her hands fiddling with the tea cup, nervously.

He had only brought up his purpose at being in at the royal ball with Alina, when she started talking about his shortcomings in their relationship.

How he didn't accompany her to her first ball, didn't look at her for their first dance, and how he always gave an excuse for not wearing matching outfits.

But something came out of his mouth when talking to her. "I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

He felt annoyed at her behavior. She got too clingy and annoying now. Bringing up insignificant things. She got annoying in this very moment.

She soon ran away as he left the (l/n) estate.

He wanted to go home and rid his memories of her immature behavior. Hoping that her behavior won't continue again.

A/N: I should do a part 2. But you'll have to wait a while.

#yandere x reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #x f reader

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

#yandere yakuza #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #mafia x reader #yandere mafia #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere smut #yandere fic #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #oc x reader #yandere original character #original work #smut

[ln444]

truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

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these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

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masterlist

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #f1 #lando norris angst #f1 angst #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff