#i genuinely have very much like been pushed to the edge this week

[moremousewrites]

Recover

Pairing: Minthara/Reader(AFAB)

Summary: You cannot figure out why you're having such a gods awful day. You're inciting fights, snubbing locals and dealing with body aches. Minthara takes note of your sudden attitude problem and takes action to solve it as she can't have the leader of the party being so reckless

Tags: period sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering

Word count: 1,578

You didn't know what was coming over you all day. It seemed every interaction was a slight against you and the day was only getting worse. Where before, you might normally listen to the woes of each individual person, now you could only respond with “I genuinely could not care”. On top of your mysterious hostility, your body began to ache sporadically throughout the endless day. 

It wasn't how you wanted your introduction to Baldur's Gate to go. You wanted to appreciate the sights and marvels your companions had been ranting about for weeks. 

You weren't the only one who took note of your abysmal attitude, either. All of your companions were a bit on edge from you, but Minthara was considering you very closely. When you sat down on a bench to let your body rest for a moment, Minthara sat next to you. You kept your eyes trained to the ground to avoid giving her a dirty look. You weren't in the mood for a fight with her. Nor did you want to fight her. You didn't want to fight anyone. 

“Tav, your endurance has been inspiring thus far but as I'm sure you are aware, you're in no shape to continue today” she said, straightening her posture. 

You rolled your eyes away from her. “I can handle myself just fine, thank you. There should be lodgings just ahead” you pointed at the tavern that looked further away than it had before. You needed to get moving.

“Can you make it? Or will you bleed through your garments before we step foot in the establishment?” Minthara asked, frustrated and with a tinge of concern in her voice.

How did you not realize? You were actually relieved this horrible attitude was only your cycle and not some hex cast upon you. “How did you know?” You asked, shocked she knew before even you.

“It was obvious. Aside from your new demeanor, to which I have taken great appreciation, your scent has become more fragrant” she explained, causing a blush to rise on your face and ears. She was smelling you? “Ah, there it is again, much more pungent than before. Except, of course, during your ovulation. Has your blood not seeped?” She asked, rather openly. 

Your skin felt hot at her words. “Not yet…” you weren't shy about your monthly cycle by any means, but Minthara seemed to relish in it. 

She stood at once, reaching a hand to help you stand. “You need rest. You'll be useless in battle otherwise” you scoffed and slid your hand into hers. The callouses on her palm rubbed against the skin of your own hand, causing a light tingle to run through you. Her hand was warm, and you liked the strong grip it had around you. 

At the camp, you made your way to your tent to collapse in your bedroll. Sharp, stabbing pain shot through your body. You couldn't believe Minthara noticed your monthly cycle before you. A warm wetness pooled in your pants once you settled into your bedroll. ‘Ah, there it is’ you thought to yourself, peeling off your pants.

The flaps to your tent flew open, causing you to cover yourself with a blanket in a panic. “Do not avail yourself with such a pithy attempt at modesty. Your virility is no shame. Though, I am sure the heavy burden of your cycle has weakened you. How do you feel?” she asked, closing the tent behind her. She leaned over you, moving the blanket and inspecting your abdomen. In her night clothes, you could see the outline of her breasts pressing against the fabric.

“Fine. Thank you” you responded curtly, pulling your knees to hide yourself from her. Minthara pushed them down and gave you a stern look.

“Do not try to be brave. I will heal you so that you are not risking not only your life but mine as well” she said, removing your top so only your camp shirt and small clothes remained.

You didn't argue, she was right. You'd been reckless all day. Inciting fights you'd hoped you'd win. Walking off with a few more wounds than you should have. You were in pain and it was causing you to be reckless and unfocused. 

Minthara moved to sit behind you, her legs on either side of yours. You felt her hands cradle your womb as they began to heal you. The magic was soothing and warm, much like her grasp had been earlier. You rolled your head onto her shoulder, relaxing into her body. Minthara pressed her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling slowly. She watched to see if your reaction was approving. 

When your breath hitched under her contact, Minthara pressed an experimental kiss on your exposed skin. Your chest heaved and a small whimper left your lips. One of the hands covering your bloated stomach moved beneath your shirt to cup the swell of your breast. The other, lowered to trace its fingertips on the inside of your thigh.

“Minthara, my cycle” you protested, your skin burning against hers.

“Yes. Let me ease your suffering” she said, pulling the bloodsoaked small clothes down your thighs. You nodded in her embrace, feeling her run her thumb over your nipple.

Her fingers skimmed to your heat, gliding up and down the lips before dipping in a finger. You arched at the feeling, your walls straining against her digit. The blood made for an adequate lubrication as she slowly pumped her finger in and out of you, dragging against your walls to feel for the fleshy spot that made you squirm in her arms. She pushed another finger in and you moaned her name, loudly, earning you another kiss.

“Yes, proclaim your pleasure for all your companions to hear. Let them know who sates your needs,” Minthara's smirk could be felt on your hot skin. She rubbed her thumb over your clit and you hissed, grabbing her wrist to quell her movements. 

She shot you a dangerous look and you explained. “It's too sensitive. Please, Minthara” you begged.

She rolled her wrist into you and lightly tapped your clit with her thumb, making you twitch in response. You released her wrist and let her continue though she showed more restraint, easing onto your clit to build your sensation. Her pace slowly quickened until she was steadily fucking you with her fingers. Your hands gripped her thighs in the ecstasy of it all, holding yourself together and eliciting her at once. Your hips moved to rut against her fingers as you chased your pleasure, becoming more frantic in your need to come. Minthara loved how reactive you were to her touch, especially now that your hormones were causing your body to heighten every feeling. She was enjoying watching you unravel in her arms.

With a broken moan you climaxed on her fingers which fucked you through your orgasm. You rolled your hips onto her hand as you came down, sweating and panting her name. Minthara pulled the hair off your neck and held it as she kissed your lips, slipping her tongue in your mouth. She pulled her fingers from you causing you to groan in her mouth from the emptiness. When you smelled the sharp tang of iron, your eyes snapped open and you pulled away from her kiss.

You watched in carnal awe as she slipped the bloodied digits past her lips and licked them clean. “Your scent left me in a state of desire only your taste could satisfy. But now, I have tasted you. And I want more” she said, shifting from beneath you.

She positioned herself between your knees and you sat back to watch her trail kisses down your thigh. When her lips met your cunt, you gripped your bedroll. “Minthara, I don't know if I can-”

“Give me one more. You've been exceptional” she looked up at you, eyes seeking approval from you. 

You drew a deep breath. “Okay. One more” you nodded. Minthara wasted no time, she lapped at your clit, tracing quick circles with her tongue and suckling it between her lips. 

Her fierce attention made your body arch into her, pressing further into her mouth. “Fuck, Minthara!” you whined out. 

She pressed her fingers into you again, fucking you as her tongue focused on your clit. The paladin pressed on your swollen lower belly. Your body tensed as you felt Minthara draw out another orgasm from you, your core releasing all at once. 

Minthara sat up from your thighs and wiped her mouth with her arm, blood smearing, sloppily. She grabbed your chin and brought you into a searing kiss which you returned, enthusiastically. 

“Thank you, I feel much better” you sighed, appreciating her touch.

“You are most welcome. It was an honour to provide you with relief at this time of your cycle. And an even greater one to satisfy your innate urges” Minthara wet a rag and began cleaning you and herself. 

You lied down as she wiped the dried blood from your groin and thighs. The cool rag felt nice on your hot skin. “Once I'm well rested I'd like to return the favour” you said pulling thickly padded small clothes on for the night. 

Minthara brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear and nodded. “That would be agreeable. Get some rest then, for everyone's sake” she ordered. You drifted off to sleep in her arms. 

#minthara/reader #minthara x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #minthara baenre #minthara

[sailoryooons]

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

#i genuinely have very much like been pushed to the edge this week #and i feel like getting this off of my chest #and i don't think i am crazy but maybe i am #this is also a VERY broad rant of what i'm talking about and does not cover all the nuances of this

[redr0sewrites]

Sick!Hazbin Hotel x Reader Hcs

i love reverse comfort sm. im also currently being brutally murdered by allergies but i prefer comforting others so here we are

🥀 Cw: fluff, crack, teensy bit of angst with comfort

🥀 Pairing(s): Lucifer x reader, Alastor x reader, Vox x reader, Adam x reader

Lucifer:

sick? him? please, the king of hell doesn't get sick!

thats what he claims anyways

lucifer brushes nearly everything off as just plain allergies, he could literally have a 103 fever and be shaking on the floor and would still be pouting and saying he's fine

the thing about him tho is that he's easy to take care of- after a little coaxing lucifer just sighs and nods glumly before pretty much submitting himself to your care

once he's admitted hes sick tho, he wants you around him 24/7

lucifer wants cuddles, hugs, kisses, he just gets so clingy when he's feeling under the weather

THIS MAN LITERALLY BURNS UP WHEN HE'S SICK ITS ALWAYS THE LITTLE ONES WITH THE HIGHEST RAGING FEVERS THAT LAST FOR DAYS like he'll be sweating and shivering and crying he gets hit HARD when he's sick and it happens so suddenly too- like one day he's fine and then the next he looks like he's one small wind away from collapsing

he lowkey feels bad about asking for things when he's sick so he'll say something offhand like "yk im in the mood for soup" and hopes you get the message

ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE TO GET FEVER DREAMS AND START RAMBLING WHEN HES SICK

like he'll wake up from a nap and still be half asleep and he just starts genuinely rambling about literally the most obscure things

lucifer definitely gets nightmares even when he isn't sick, but when hes feeling like shit and is so delirious he can't tell reality from fiction? be prepared for him to wake up crying and shaking, he just gets so so scared :(

lucifer feels bad about you taking care of him and wants to help, but will lowkey end up pushing himself too hard. PLEASE reassure him and tell him it's alright he'll literally melt

once its all over, lucifer will genuinely trust you more after you saw him in such a vulnerable state and is much more likely to come to you instead of hiding how he's feeling in the future

Alastor:

alastor? weak? lmao no

he would literally rather die than admit he's sick like he would literally just keep pushing on

alastor is one of those people that has an iron immune system like he VERY rarely gets sick but when he does its like torture

to even be alastor's partner you'd have to know him for a long time and you'd probably be able to read him pretty well (at least compared to other people), yet even you sometimes miss his sickness in the earlier stages

alastors biggest tell tale sign of being sick? exhaustion. he very rarely sleeps on the regular, but when he's sick that all catches up to him

he also gets more irritable and a little less composed, he'd be more prone to getting angry and would lash out if anyone asked if he was ok

alastors ears would also be turned back slightly, like most animals do when they're being aggressive, but its pretty much only obvious to people who know him closely

alastor never wants to be vulnerable or weak but you notice that his eyelids keep drifting of their own accord, and how irritable he's been, and it clicks to you that he's obviously not feeling well

approach him about it in private, while alastor does trust you he still doesn't want others to knowm

no matter how much you try he will not lay down, take medicine, or do anything (at least at first)

alastor genuinely thinks that he can just push through on his own and lowkey thinks you're worrying too much

however after two weeks of pure suffering and exhaustion, combined with no sleep and your irritation at his lack of will to take care of himself, alastor finally breaks

he'd prob come to your room at like 4 in the morning and just curl up on the edge of the bed, shivering a little but staying quiet

you wake up to him fast asleep, his ears twitching every once and a while as he rests peacefully near you

get a cool towel and lay it on his forehead to break the fever, and he'll just keep sleeping

he probably wouldn't wake up for at least a few hours, months of lost sleep are catching up to him at this point, giving you the opportunity to make him some soup and medicine

alastor will stir a little when you get out of bed but wont wake up, but once he does wake up he wants you to come back

when he's sick he wants you to be nearby, alastor isn't the touchiest person and being sick makes him feel gross, so he wouldn't want to be touched but would want you arround just to know you're there

this is probably the first step in him being more open to vulnerability around you, and while it may have been a bit of an irritating process to get him back to his usual healthy status, it's definitely worth it as he begins to trust you more

Vox:

lowkey a man child (affectionate)

vox is one of those guys who will take care of himself when he's sick, but he'll complain about it every step of the way

i think he's pretty responsible when he's sick, he'll take the day off and relax but won't do much other than that

he likes when you pamper him though, and a part of him lowkey enjoys being sick because he just gets to have your full attention all of the time (as if he doesn't already💀)

vox would be irritated about showing weakness and not being in control, but he wouldn't be irritated at you

if an employee was being too nosy about his wellbeing? yea he's pissed but if you're the one taking care of him, he'll just sigh and let you do what you want

VOX IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHOS LITERALLY ALWAYS COLD AND ITS AMPLIFIED WHEN HES SICK

he becomes like a literal ice cube he's SHIVERING and everything

vox has the cutest sneezes too, he glitches out and denies how cute his sneezes are but they really are adorable

vox takes like 2 baths per day when he's sick he hates feeling unclean, and def wants you to join him in the bath (just to relax, get your mind out of the gutter)

vox would be a little pissed about missing work, i think he's a bit of a workaholic and might try to work in bed or sneak some paperwork behind your back

it doesn't work though because he just ends up passing out anyway

vox is big on sleeping when he's sick he's definitely the type to just sleep it off and thats that

like he CRASHES in bed and just does not get up for hours

he sleeps like the dead too, his screen is blank and he barely moves in his sleep

like lucifer, he has fever dreams but they lean more on the weird side rather than the sad side

its funny but instead of talking more when sick, vox actually talks much less. he starts getting super quiet and a lot more needy for your attention

vox is more than happy to return to work and be back on his feet, but will send you a little thank you gift and pamper you in return for taking care of him

Adam:

manchild x2 (also affectionate)

adam DREADS getting sick like he genuinely hates it so much, he sees it as one of his own flaws and it makes him lowkey disgusted at himself

he whines like a baby over a common cold, its almost sad how the slightest sickness will make him act like he's on his death bed

adam whines and complains whenever you aren't around him, he wants cuddles and kisses and is 10x more clingy when he's sick

he has little to no appetite when he's actually sick but gets a huge appetite right after

like you'll have to force him to eat at least a piece of toast per day while he's actually feverish but once he's in recovery he's literally FAMISHED and will ask for so much food

he barely eats or drinks while hes sick it just feels icky to him

i also think he's the type to not want to move like he just collapses on his bed and barely moves an inch (unless you force him)

adam exaggerates when he's barely sick and then underplays it when he's genuinely really sick its lowkey so confusing

like he could have pneuomonia and be half dead and say he's fine but he could have the most common cold and complain foreverrr

he doesn't think you're genuine when you say you want to help him and take care of him, he thinks its just a joke since nobody has ever really taken care of him before

like sure he's been told what to do and bossed around and treated him like a foolish child, but no one has ever sat with him while he's sick and held his hand yk?

while he can be irritable and annoying while he's sick, he apologizes afterwards

its one of the few times he ever apologizes but he genuinely feels bad about lashing out

adam isn't used to being below someone when it comes to status or health and relaxing and letting someone else take care of him is kind of foreign for him, but you both work it out over time

while he isn't the easiest to take care of, he genuinely appreciates that you want to help him and wants to return the favor someday

I WILL MAKE A PT 2 OF THIS WITH MORE FEM CHARACTERS OR WITH HELLUVA BOSS CHARACTERS BUT I DIDNT WANT TO CROWD UP THIS POST TOO MUCH!!!!! ALSO SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING MISTAKES I WROTE THIS WHILE HALF ASLEEP ♥️ HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS TEEHEE

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x oc #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor altruist #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer fluff #alastor fluff #vox fluff #adam fluff #hazbin hotel fluff

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

#yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Here's a Lando nsfw for you

"I'll take care of you, an orgasm for every night we were apart" - when he comes back from the race....or the triple header (imagine)....

send me thoughts/blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for lando weekend

notes: i genuinely don’t think anyone would survive that many orgasms after a triple header, but i do think that lando would definitely need to you two to fuck like rabbits when he gets home from one

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, slight cum play

His lips traveled along the slightly damp skin of your torso. He was grinning like a mad man at you as he crawled back up your body to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, understandably so seeing as he had just spent the better part of the last hour with his head between your thighs.

You were both disappointed when you told him you wouldn’t be able to join him for the race this last week. Lando looked forward to seeing you in his garage during the race week, cheering him on. But your job needed you to stay for the weekend, so you sent your pouty boyfriend away without you.

You still managed to watch his practices, his qualifying, and the race at work. You kept your phone tucked next to your computer playing the race while you worked. You longed to be with him when he crossed the line, scoring yet another podium finish.

When he came home he was all smiles and soft touches, keeping you locked to him in a hug, refusing to let you go anytime soon. You managed to slip away from him long enough to cook some dinner. The two of you ate while he told you about his weekend, about the media stuff he filmed, about getting to be on the podium again, and once again winning driver of the day.

“Well it’s not surprising. You’re my favorite driver.” You tell him as a soft blush covers his cheeks.

He softly pulls you towards the bedroom once you’ve finished your meals, telling you that he missed you, that he needed you.

You end up laying on the bed, with him on top of you, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. He rolls his hips against yours and smirks when he feels you tug on his hair.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you. How about an orgasm for every night we were apart?”

You nod your head, and moan when he pushes his hips against yours again.

“Four then. My favorite number.”

And he had kept his word.

He gave you two with just his tongue, his arms holding your legs apart as he devoured you like you were his last meal. He moaned into your folds as you gave him your first release, the feeling sparking another to follow not far behind.

Then he gave you one with his fingers. He knew how much you loved his hands, they were strong, the veins occasionally more visible than usual. His fingers were thicker than yours, so when he pushed three into you, it was no surprise that you were thrashing on the bed, practically begging him to make you cum.

He licked his fingers clean after the third time, which led to now. He pulls his shirt over his head, then his pants and boxers down. He’s got a decent girth to him, even his three fingers might not have been enough to prepare you to take him.

He strokes himself a few times before leaning down to kiss you again.

“You think you’re ready?” He asks, even three orgasms in he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

“I am.” You tell him.

He notches the head of his cock at your entrance, just barely brushing against your clit. He pushes himself into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size and him to how much you’re clamping down around him.

He stills when he bottoms out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. The feeling of your bare walls around him, all soft and warm and wet, could very easily throw him over the edge before he really even got to fucking you.

“Move Lando.” You you whine, shifting your hips to get some movement.

He pulls himself back and forth, pushing himself deeper into you with every thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Your nails dig into the skin on his back, leaving long red trails where they’ve been.

It doesn’t take long for either of you to feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Lando uses one of his hand to play with your clit while he fucks himself into you, determined to make you cum before he does.

He succeeds, but is quick to cum when you clamp down around him tightly, practically milking his release from him.

He pulls out of you with a groan, and watches as his cum starts dripping out of you. He swirls it around on his finger, then pushes it back inside you. You yelp, closing your legs.

“Don’t want to waste any of that.” He says.

He refuses to move for the rest of the night, not letting you get up either. He’s spent the whole weekend away from you, now he’s going to keep you in his arms for as long as he wants.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando weekend #ln4 #formula one x reader

[joelsmochi]

honeypie - joel miller

summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!) warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive wc: 2.6k a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓

-

“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.

Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.

You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.

You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.

“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“

Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.

Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.

“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.

“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.

“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.

“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”

“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”

Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”

“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”

“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”

♡

“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”

You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.

He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.

He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.

But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.

“Good,” you answered.

Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.

“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”

“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”

You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.

“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.

“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.

“It’s just so weird,” she whined.

“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.

You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.

“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.

“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”

“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes at her.

“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”

♡

“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.

He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”

“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”

“Uh, no?” You said.

Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”

“So if we’re not together then what is this?”

You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”

Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.

You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.

“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.

“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.

“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”

Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”

“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.

“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”

“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.

“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”

“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.

Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.

“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”

“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”

“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”

You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.

“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”

You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.

Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, why?”

“You see the older man on lane twelve?”

He looked and then nodded.

“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.

“Fifteen,” he negotiated.

“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”

“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.

“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.

You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.

But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”

By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.

Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.

And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.

A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.

“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.

“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”

“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”

Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”

Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.

“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”

He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”

Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.

“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.

He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.

“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”

You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.

Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.

“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.

“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.

“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”

He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.

He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.

Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.

You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.

He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?

Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”

He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”

“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.

“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.

“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”

An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.

“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”

“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.

Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.

“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”

“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”

He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”

Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”

Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”

He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.

“You love me,” he mumbled.

“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.

“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #beekeeper!joel #pedro

[stars-and-inkpots]

Could you possibly write more soft Gale fics? He just deserves so much love and healing. I really liked how you wrote Reverence. Sorry I don’t have a more specific ask, I’m not very good when it comes to fic ideas.

Absolutely I can, I love writing for Gale so much, and he really does deserve the world. Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Late Night Book Club | Gale x Reader

No matter what you try, you just can't seem to sleep. Between nightmares and insomnia, you start to think you might never get a good night's rest again.

Gale seems to share the same issue.

While you might not be able to completely solve your problems, at least the two of you aren't alone in them anymore.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Cuddling, Insomnia, Nightmares, Comfort, Fluff, First Kiss, Love Confessions (kinda)

Notes: choosing a name for this was the hardest part about writing it

Ao3 Link: Late Night Book Club

Word Count: 2,150

For whatever reason, you find yourself awake far later than everyone else. This shouldn’t be too much of a problem, if it wasn’t for the fact that this was the second night in a row where sleep eluded you to the point of exhaustion. The little amount of sleep you did manage to get was plagued with uncomfortable dreams that teetered on the edge of nightmares, making sure the rest was fitful. You knew you had to sleep; you couldn’t hope to lead the group if you were barely able to stand tomorrow. It’s frustrating. It isn’t like you aren’t trying to sleep either; you laid there for hours before finally giving up and leaving your tent to tend to the fire that has steadily burnt down to the last embers. It’s here where Gale finds you. 

The look on your face only adds to his concern at seeing you up so late. You don’t notice his approach, another thing that makes Gale think something must be wrong. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks softly, though the sudden noise still startles you. He watches you turn and immediately relax when you realise it’s only him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry,” you apologise, but you aren’t exactly sure what you're apologising for. Perhaps it's for letting all of them down with your inability to sleep, knowing you’ll hold them back tomorrow. Then you notice that Gale looks just as tired. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks. 

You’re sure your exhaustion is evident enough, you can feel the weight under your eyes. A part of you hates feeling like you need to be taken care of. You don’t want to acknowledge that help would be both welcome and useful, but you know these feelings are simply a byproduct of the exhaustion that weighs on your shoulders. You can’t fault Gale for wanting to help. 

“No, it’s alright. You need your own rest.” The day had been tough on all of you. Gale, though talented when it came to magic, was pushed to his own limits today. 

“Very well. Would you at least allow me to sit with you for a few moments then?” Gale asks. 

You only nod, and Gale sits beside you on the ground. You’ve managed to get the fire going a little stronger again, and the warmth is appreciated by both of you. You’re suddenly aware of just how close you are, knees almost touching. You blame the warmth in your cheeks on the fire. 

“If there is something bothering you, I am more than happy to listen.” There is genuine care in his words. He is worried about you. As much as you don’t want to burden your companions with your troubles, he seems adamant that he wants to hear them. 

“I can’t sleep is all,” you admit. “It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep, and then when I do my dreams end up waking me up again.” It feels childish to say that your dreams are the primary culprit of your lack of sleep. You’ve been through so much in the past weeks, but it’s nightmares of all things that finally get to you. 

But Gale doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease you. Instead, he looks at you with only sympathy and understanding. He doesn’t pry any further, and you’re thankful. 

“What about you? Why are you still up? If you want to share, of course,” you’re quick to add. You don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you his own troubles just because you told him yours. 

“We have similar problems it seems,” is all Gale answers. You return his earlier kindness by not pressing him to elaborate either. 

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence again. 

“I understand if you wish to remain alone, but if you ever wish for company when you cannot sleep, you are always most welcome to visit me.” He says it so quietly, hesitantly, but not unsure. Knowing you don’t need to spend the nights awake alone, at least, is a comfort, and the thought of spending the time talking with Gale is pleasant; even if that time is simply spent sitting near to one another. 

You smile. “I might take you up on that offer.” 

Gale gives you a fond look. The golden light of the fire makes him look soft and at ease, though, maybe that’s only because he’s with you. 

“I think I’ll try to sleep again. Thank you for this, Gale.” You stand, and he does the same. 

“Anytime.” 

Sleep still doesn’t come easy when you return to your tent, but eventually you’re able to get, at least, a little bit of dreamless sleep before you’re awoken again. The gaps between sleep and consciousness are still more frequent than you want, but it’s better than nothing. 

---

The next day is rough. Gale doesn’t look like he had much luck with sleep either, and you’re almost thankful because he is more inclined to ask the group to slow down than you are. Maybe the others can tell that you’re also struggling, because no one complains when the steady pace is interrupted. 

Perhaps some god out there is looking out for you, because the day’s travel is mercifully uneventful. 

Setting up camp again is a chore. You do your best to help where you can, but you can barely stand as it is. 

“Get some rest, soldier. We’ve got it from here,” Karlach says to you, voice quiet. You know she’s trying to be nice, but it feels like pity and you hate it. You swallow your pride and thank her before returning to your tent. 

Even though your body aches and your head is starting to hurt, when you lay down, you only end up staring at the roof of the tent. You suddenly just aren’t tired. You know you’re tired, because your body feels tired, but at the same time you aren’t , and it’s only partly caused by fear of the dreams you know await you. It’s frustrating to no end. 

After another few minutes of laying there with your eyes closed, you finally give in. 

Only a few of the others are still awake, sitting and talking with each other around the fire. They don’t notice you skirting around the edge of camp towards Gale’s tent. It’s not that you feel like you need to keep this a secret, you just don’t think you have the energy to talk to anyone besides the wizard right now. 

“Gale? Can I come in?” You ask softly outside the tent. You know he’s awake; you can see shadows that dance across the walls. 

“Of course,” Gale answers. Before you can move to open the tent flap, he waves a hand and it opens for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you tease, but even you can hear how tired you sound. 

“Always for you,” he returns with a smile, but there’s a truth in his words that brings a warmth to your face. 

You finally notice how cosy his tent is. There are several books, all of them stacked in piles that must be organised in a way you can’t discern. The ground is covered in plush blankets and pillows. Fluttering around the top of the tent are small, almost iridescent orbs of light, some purple and others blue. They give enough light for Gale to read, but keep the tent dim enough to be pleasant. 

“Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.” 

You sit beside him; closer than you were last night, leaning against his side slightly. You peer over at the book in his hands, surprised to find it isn’t some arcane tome. As far as you can tell, it’s just a normal adventure novel. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you, you can keep reading.” Even just sitting here beside him is enough of a comfort; the tension already starting to seep out of your shoulders. You don’t want to talk about anything yet, and you figure that Gale shares the same sentiment. 

“Do you want me to read to you?” Gale asks, and though you almost think he’s joking, you realise he really means it. 

“That would be nice.” 

And it is. You’ve always enjoyed listening to him talk; Gale has a lovely voice. He picks up where he left off when you got there. He wasn’t too far into the book yet, but he still pauses occasionally to explain something. Eventually you close your eyes, focused only on his voice, the details of his words getting blurry. 

“Can we lay down?” You mumble tiredly. 

“That’s a good idea,” Gale says with a smile, having already noticed the way your head has begun to dip forward as sleep begins to pull at you. 

It takes a bit of coordination, but eventually you’re both underneath the thick blanket that Gale pulls tighter around the two of you. You move closer to him, your head underneath his chin, and he wraps an arm around you. He’s warm, and you feel safer than you have in weeks. He starts reading again, fingers playing idly with your hair. Within another minute, your breathing has evened out and you’re fast asleep. 

Gale folds the corner of the page to mark where you two left off and closes the book before he sets it aside with the countless others. Eventually, he manages to fall asleep too. 

Both of you still wake up a few times in the middle of the night. You didn’t expect this to be some miracle cure for your sleep problems, but having Gale there holding you when you wake up makes getting back to sleep a little easier. The same can be said for Gale who wakes up several times, only to be calmed down once he feels your arms around him. The two of you are able to get a good rest, and when you wake up in the morning you don’t feel the same ache in your bones as you did the past few mornings. 

It becomes a sort of routine between you. In the evenings, after everyone leaves for their tents, you follow Gale to his or he follows you to yours. Then he reads to you, and sometimes you read to him, and you both let sleep find you in each other's arms. The nightmares are getting more bearable, and even on the worst nights when neither of you can sleep no matter how much you try, at least you’re there together. 

---

It’s been a week since you started this arrangement. The book is nearly finished. Gale had promised to let you pick out the next one. 

He brushes through your hair with one hand, the book held open in the other. You listen while he starts reading the last few pages. The hero who’s story you’ve been following through the novel culminates in one final battle against evil. It’s cliché, you think to yourself, and then smile because isn’t this exactly your own life now? And what hero story is complete without a lover to kiss them at the end, which is precisely what happens. Good prevails, and the hero gets their true love. 

Gale feels your smile against his neck and, for reasons he understands but doesn’t want to admit yet, feels a warmth flood his cheeks. 

“The End,” he announces, snapping the book closed with a flourish, earning a laugh from you. “What did you think?” 

“It was nice. It felt more like a romance novel at the end.” 

Gale hums in agreement. “Yes, but I think that's what I enjoyed most.” He puts the book down then returns to hugging you close to him. 

“I agree, it felt natural.” You hope Gale understands what you mean. 

He does. 

The two of you have been dancing around this for a while now, neither one of you ready to acknowledge it. But there’s something about tonight that feels different. 

You lean back to look at Gale’s face, bringing a hand up to guide a strand of greying brown hair behind his ear. Your hand lingers on his cheek, thumb brushing gently across his skin. He puts his own hand over yours, moving it to kiss your palm. It’s a careful gesture, tender and nervous all at the same time. 

When you move to kiss him, he meets you halfway. It’s a soft kiss; a testament to these nights you’ve spent together. When you part, you rest your forehead against his. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell: like you mean everything to him. 

He kisses you once more before you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. He holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear, and you tighten your arms around him as if to answer: 'I could never.'

You both sleep the best you have in weeks, still there for each other each time you wake. 

#baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x you #request

[merakiui]

I love stepson!Floyd so much. Your ideas and headcanons are so good. 😭😭😭

Here's a headcanon about the other slippery eel, stepson!Jade, that I wanted to share with you: for the time that you've known him, Jade has drugged you 3 times.

The first time was because he genuinely wanted to get rid of you.

His dislike for you, though well-hidden, was just as strong as Floyd's. He wanted you gone. Instead of Floyd's violent tantrums and hateful words, however, he turned to quiet yet drastic measures: poisoning your quotidian beverage. A schemer from childhood, he even had the perfect timing. He committed the crime a few hours before your girl's night out, so it would seem as though someone at the party did it to you. His father would even scold you and tell you it's time you stopped partying; you have a family now, after all!

Jade offered kind wishes and gentle smiles the whole time you were on bedrest, but there was something about the way he looked down at you from beside your bed that genuinely terrified you. The look in his eye vanished just as quickly as it came, and you knew, and Jade knew that you knew, that he was the one behind your ailment.

It remained a silent secret between you. How could you accuse your husband's sweet, quiet child of such a heinous act? No one would believe it was him. Floyd? Maybe. Afterall, Floyd was the one who screamed at you and said he wished you would just die just two days ago. But Jade? No way. He'd never do something like that. It's Jade.

The second time was out of pure curiosity.

Between him and Floyd, Jade was the one to warm up to you first. Much sooner than his brother, in fact. During their fights, he was quick to remind Floyd that he spent more time with you, knew you better, loved you longer, loved you more.

He started calling you Mama shortly after the first dose of poison he fed you. The sole purpose of that was to give you a fright; he loved the way you twitched when he would ask, “Don't you think Papa is taking a while to get home, Mama?” He could see the gears turning inside of your head as you tried to read his words, as you tried to decipher their true meaning. He wondered how long it would take before you snapped and called him a creepy little bastard or something. You never did. In fact, you seemed to double down on your kindness towards him and Floyd. Perhaps it was the realization that you never would that made him interested in you, and with time, said interest could only develop into a twisted, ugly type of love.

It was that interest and curiosity that made him wonder if you would be stupid enough to let him drug you again. He was not covert about his intentions in the slightest. He had been quietly following you around the house for about two weeks (especially when you were in the kitchen) before the day that he offered to cook for you and Floyd. He had so many "valid and logical" reasons. “Papa won't be coming home tonight, so it's just the three of us.” “You've been working hard all day; you should rest.” “Let me do something nice to make up for it.”

He settled on something simple: sandwiches. His and Floyd's were vastly different from yours, however. He sat and watched as you stared at the dish he had lovingly placed in front of you. Would this push you over the edge? Would you toss it out, yelling at him and calling him weird?

You ate it. You ate it, thanked him, and went straight to bed, knowing that your vision would blur and your dinner would come back up very soon.

Halfway through the night, Jade crawled into your bed to feed you medication and water, calling you stupidly cute and cutely stupid. In the years to come, Jade would realise that stupid wasn't the word that he wanted. Had he the sense that he has now, he would have settled on “intentionally foolish.” You knew what he was doing, and accepted it, not out of a silly fear of losing your husband, but because he was your creepy child, your family whom you chose to love and trust, just the way he is.

The third time was an event for which Jade has felt not a shred of remorse.

Jade is all grown up now. Jade loved you first, but it was Floyd whose love first diverted from acceptable, platonic, familial love. In fact, until their early twenties, Jade frequently teased Floyd about his little crush on you. Now though, as a grown man, he sees that Floyd was onto something. He now wishes that he had joined his brother in getting his hands on you.

The strangest thing about the visit is that Jade came alone. Floyd often comes without Jade, but you can't remember the last time Jade visited home without Floyd racing him to get through your door first. You don't worry yourself with what he did to shake his brother for the day.

You don't know that Jade has been there since this morning, quietly switching between rooms and moving in and out of the house. Or maybe you do, and choose to pretend that you don't when you open the front door and let your son all but crush you. He's huge, much larger than his father, and his strength matches his Floyd's.

Like you do with Floyd on an almost biweekly basis, you try to reason with Jade. For a brief moment, you think you've gotten through to him. He's always been so level-headed and logical. But then he offers to fetch you some of the soup you've had simmering on the stove for the past few hours. "It’s been cooking for a while, and you haven't had lunch yet, have you?" He watches you eat, and you know, and he knows that you know, but you eat anyway. The next thing you know, he's pretty much forcing you onto the couch, insisting that you, “get some rest, Mama, I'll tidy the house for you.”

As expected, you're soon sleepily calling out for Jade, your loyal, reliable, logical, level-headed Jade, who you've chosen to trust and love, just the way he is.

AAAAAA OMG THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!!! OTL the silent resignation and gradual acceptance that he's weird, but he's still your (step)son... falling into the motherly role because when you chose to marry Mr. Leech you were signing up to love his sons as well. Even if you're not related by blood, there's still this familial attachment you feel for them no matter how cruel they treated you when they were children. orz orz waaaa it's so yummy. Jade trying to kill you in the most cruelly calculated way ever. T_T and then going on to use the same method twice more, only it's not coming from a place of malice but now curiosity. Him wanting to see how far he can push you, and when it becomes clear that you're not going to budge because you care about him he uses this to his advantage.

Jade keeping you under the soothing thumb of drugs just so he can take care of you regardless of whether or not you want that. And you just let it happen because that's who he is. He's always been that strange, creepy child with his morbid interests and odd behaviors. You're just so used to it, and it doesn't truly bother you anymore. Maybe it never did. Between Floyd's capricious temperament and Jade's devilish scheming, there's no room for disapproval. That's just who the both of them are, and they're immensely stubborn. It's pointless to deny them of what they want when they'll inevitably get it sooner or later. You know this and so do they, but it doesn't stop you from trying.

And in your weak, loopy, drug-induced state, home alone with no one to call for but him, Jade has his mama all to himself. :)

#twisted chit chat #tw: stepcest #tw: drugging #meraki faves #SO FAVE IMMENSE FAVE THE MOST FAVE #he's so creepy T_T i love him

[devildom-moss]

Mephisto's performance

(Mephisto x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (angst) (NSFW tags: very slight dom!top!Mephisto and bottom!MC; "office" sex, semi-public/risky, no condom, creampie, hate-fucking, "use me" dynamic, consent - but with a lot of regret so maybe dubious?, slight degradation with backhanded praise, Mephisto calling MC a whore and a slut, so slutshaming, pain, slapping, fingering light bondage, half-clothed, no orgasm for MC sorry)

(other tags: religious undertones, one-sided enemies to ?who knows?, sad/bittersweet ending)

Word Count: +2,200

To say you admired Mephistopheles was an understatement; you were absolutely smitten. Granted, he had a reputation for being a pompous asshole whose presence left a bitter taste in Lucifer’s mouth – the same mouth that warned you about spending time with the likes of Mephisto and questioned your recent attention to “a demon whose attitude and pride might be excusable if it was offset by actual wit and usefulness.”

Clearly, Lucifer either hadn’t seen the version of Mephisto that you had – the small slips in his bitter façade – or he had, and Lucifer simply refused to acknowledge it. You didn’t care what anyone else said about Mephisto. He had watched over Luke when he fell asleep in common places multiple times. As much as he protested, when you really needed him, he offered his assistance in whatever form he could – especially when it would aid Diavolo. If nothing else, Lucifer should have remembered that Mephisto was right there with Diavolo and Barbatos, tending to him and his brothers on the day they fell. You knew better. Mephisto was sweet.

He was adorable. You remembered the precious smile he had on his face while staring up at the new blossoms forming on the trees one early morning. It wasn’t the only time you had caught his face softening, entranced by some natural beauty. Mephisto still blushed when you would pay him a genuine compliment, covering his mouth with a gloved hand.

Sweet. Adorable. And so, so sexy.

Lust and affection had motivated you to pay Mephisto a visit in the RAD Newspaper Club room – another attempt to get on his good side. This time, you brought gifts to appease the bitter old demon: hot coffee and sweets that you and Luke had baked yesterday. However, the second you walked through that door, Mephisto let out an annoyed sigh.

“Why are you bothering me?” he asked, sparing you a second glance – but not a third.

“I wanted to cheer you up,” you admitted, setting your offering on his desk. “Diavolo told me that he had seen you working nonstop in preparation for the upcoming event. I figured that might be why you’ve been frowning every time I’ve seen you all week. I brought you coffee and sweets that Luke and I made.”

Part of you had an inkling that Mephisto actually enjoyed your company more than he let on. Maybe you were just clinging to a deeply engraved hope that he wanted you. Maybe you read into signs of his kindness towards you. Perhaps wishful thinking turned a two-second glance – maybe even a judgmental glare – into a longing stare. You wanted to break through his defenses if he’d let you. Well, you had certainly broken something.

Your act of kindness pushed Mephisto over the edge, and he looked up from his work and raised his voice at you. “I have too much on my plate to keep drilling this into that thick, fucking skull of yours. I don’t like you, you won’t change my mind, and that pathetic hopeful look on your face infuriates me.”

You didn’t fully believe him – as desperate as that may sound. Perhaps it was selfish, but you didn’t want to leave him alone in that room.

Mephisto waited for you to turn around and walk away, but you didn’t budge. He sighed and got to his feet. “What? Why are you still here? Why are you bringing me things hours before any of your classes even start? What do you want?”

Most classes hadn’t started yet, but if you hadn’t arrived before everyone else, you wouldn’t have been able to see Mephisto alone. Barbatos had mentioned that Mephisto was an early riser in passing once, so you figured you would find him overworking himself that morning. As for what you wanted, you wished it was more obvious to him.

“I want you to love me,” you confessed. Mephisto circled his desk so he could sandwich you between himself and the desk, blocking your path to the exit.

“How do you want me to love you? With my boot on your neck? With my fingers buried inside of you? With my hips pressed against you? What do you want? How do you expect me to love you? I could ruin you, but love?”

You shuddered. Was this a rejection or an invitation? You forced the words, and they fell out in a clumsy mess. “I don’t expect it – you loving me. I just want it, but you could ruin me instead if you wanted.”

Mephisto’s eyes widened; he retreated slightly before narrowing his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“Use me – if you really can’t love me.” Shame burned in your cheeks, but you continued. You were determined to call his bluff. “Take out your anger and hatred on my body. Do whatever you want.”

Maybe he truly hated you. Maybe he would be disgusted by your offer. Maybe he would refuse because he did love you. Or maybe he would agree to use you – to ruin you – without a trace of affection. Even then, at least you would finally get to be with him for however long you could manage to be entertaining. The possibilities ran through your head, just quick enough to fill the brief moment before Mephisto responded.

“Turn around,” he demanded. His voice was cold. In truth, you hadn’t expected him to take you up on your offer. Your heart sank as you watched Mephisto remove his tie. A low, growling sigh left him when you remained immobile. He took your arm and forced you to turn. “You offered. So, do as you’re told.”

Your voice caught in your throat. Mephisto made quick work of knotting his tie around your wrists and up your forearms, binding them behind your back. Fear washed over your body as you felt Mephisto tug your pants and underwear down to your ankles. Was this really what you wanted?

Mephisto reached over you, pressing his chest firmly against your back as he did, and pulled a bottle of lube from his top desk drawer. You didn’t question why he had it there, but you did have a question for him: “Why are you using that on me?”

The answer was obvious, but you were begging for some kind of affection from him, wishing for the words “I don’t want to hurt you” to leave his lips with enough sweetness to sate you, but they didn’t come. Instead, Mephisto removed his glove; tugged on his tie, bringing you closer; and shoved his glove into your mouth to shut you up. You felt one cool, lubricated finger plunge into you – quickly followed by a second. You bit down on his glove as he began to stretch you out.

“To answer your question, I’d be in a world of trouble if anyone found out that I hurt you. Everyone seems to think that you’re so fucking precious. Besides,” Mephisto paused, using the last word to soften the spite in his voice before he continued, “you’ll feel better if I do this first.”

You couldn’t tell if he meant that you would feel better for him or if he wanted you to feel some kind of pleasure from this too, but you hoped. However, that hope wasn’t enough to ease the heavy aching in your chest. Even through the bits of pleasure you felt when Mephisto’s long fingers curled into your body, you knew that this wasn’t how you wanted it. That truth sat rancid in your gagged mouth – somehow more unsavory than anything. Even the realization that you would die (for good) one day was less distasteful than this.

It was almost a comfort when Mephisto pulled his fingers out. You heard his pants drop before he tugged you violently towards him. Your ass was flush against him. There was a filthy relief in knowing that he was hard. At least you had aroused him a bit, then, right? You wished you could have suppressed the dirty, joyous hope you felt. Maybe he wanted you just as badly.

Mephisto entered you slowly. It almost felt intimate: the way he ran his gloved hand through your hair before tugging at it, the way his lips found your neck before it was all teeth and marks, the way his hips rocked slowly into you before he stopped holding back. He almost made this feel like affection before the poison left his mouth between panting and groans. “Not so useless anymore, are you?”

How did he know exactly how to give you a gentle touch that left you hoping before he stripped it from you? He said he didn’t want anyone to know he hurt you, so of course he would figure out how to break your heart. At least that was a pain you could never show anyone. It would live in you – and he would be the only other person who knew that such a haunting beast was hiding inside.

You choked back tears as his thrusting picked up speed and intensity, forcing your thighs against his desk repeatedly with each buck of his hips. This was going to bruise. It was just enough to slosh some of the coffee out of the cup you had brought him earlier. A small puddle pooled towards the edge of the desk until it grazed your thigh, burning for a moment before all you could feel was a numb ache – a small punishment for your foolishness.

This time, you couldn’t hold back a groan. You had tried so hard to disguise any sign of pain or pleasure, but this was too much. Your muffled noise alerted Mephisto to the mess you had both made. It was a small one with no casualties. It hadn’t even reached any of his documents. The only thing left damaged was you, and yet Mephisto dragged you back by the tie around your arms, his cock still buried in you, with an angry, “fuck.”

Did he not want you to get hurt? No.

Mephisto tugged your hair up until you were standing upright – as upright as you could be when you were still impaled on him. He took his glove out of your mouth before he forcefully bent you over towards the edge of the desk. “Lick up the mess, whore.”

You did as he told you. The coffee was still hot, and it stung on your tongue, but you were distracted by a firm slap to your ass. When you managed to clean up the mess, Mephisto brought you upright again with a rough tug and shoved his glove back into your mouth.

“There’s a good little slut,” Mephisto chuckled before he continued to fuck you – even more violently than before. He called you good, at least.

You were choking back tears when he snaked his gloved hand tenderly around your neck. Mephisto used his index finger to guide your chin up. Staring at the ceiling, with your eyes to heaven, you felt that you owed something – someone – a prayer. You wanted to thank some god that Mephisto’s hand was there around your throat – as if the slight pressure was the only thing keeping the sobs and moans inside of you. No. It wasn’t a god that you were grateful to. It was Mephisto. Even as he used you for his amusement, your desire still burned. Your love blazed steadily. Through the pain and emptiness, you still adored him. How pathetic.

Even more pathetic was the contentment you felt as Mephisto sunk his teeth into your shoulder, muffling his moans as he came inside of you. He didn’t pleasure you enough for you to cum; you got the smallest taste of it, and somehow you were content.

Mephisto was quick to pull out of you and get his pants back up. You stood there, trying to reel yourself back into your body – too slowly for Mephisto’s liking. He tugged your pants and underwear back up for you. His glove slipped from your mouth and onto the floor as you attempted to protest with a feeble, “wait.”

His cum had already started to leak out, and the feeling of it sickened you – a shameful sickness. This felt awful and wrong and disgusting, but the most resentful part of you quietly wanted him to bend you back over his desk and fill you up all over again.

Mephisto pulled you in by his tie around your arms and leaned close to your ear. “Keep it in you. I want that sensation to stick with you all day and remind you how much I despise you. Now get out of my sight.”

You felt his tie slip from around your arms. Mephisto dragged you towards the door and shoved you out into the hallway. You heard the distinct sound of the door locking behind you.

Mephisto waited for your hesitant footsteps to fade away down the hall before he sunk his teeth into the back of his ungloved hand. Tears streamed down his face as he dropped to his knees on the floor. Had he finally given you a convincing performance – persuaded you to stay away from him?  

In that dim room on a dark Devildom morning, on his knees, Mephisto felt that he owed something – someone – a prayer. Unsure if he was even allowed – or who would hear it – he prayed that he had finally shown you what a monster he was. The cruel, wicked beast he housed had spit its parasitic DNA into you and waited to consume you. He was a demon, with his hands clasped so tightly together that they trembled, brought to his knees. His prayer – half-confession – found no purchase. It lived only inside of him, and even you would never know. It was a small, lenient punishment.

#mephistopheles #gn!mc #spice tier #obey me #obey me mephistopheles #I hope all the mephisto lovers will like this one even though it's kind of messed up #I feel like I have done too much bottom MC stuff now but it was necessary for this one #enjoy a nice little mid-day snack #obey me smut #mephistopheles smut #mephistopheles x reader #mephistopheles x mc

[erynaster]

I Don't Hate You

Summary: You and Wednesday attempt to patch things up after an argument. In a brief moment of transparency, feelings are brought into the open.

Word Count: 1,706

Warnings: Arguing

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Felt like having Wednesday display a more... soft side in this one. I hope you all enjoy!

"Wednesday's looking for you."

You look up from your evening porridge, where Enid hovers over you anxiously waiting for your response.

"Sorry?" You ask.

Enid takes a deep breath, exhaling nervously through her nose as she repeats her statement.

"Wednesday's looking for you." She repeats, eyeing you with a look of fright. "She... told me to tell you—well, if I saw you—that she wishes to speak with you. Alone."

You're genuinely puzzled.

"You're... sure? She actually said that?" You nearly chuckle in disbelief. Your girlfriend wasn't exactly the epitome of healthy communication.

"She did." Enid continues to look at you with a look that someone would give a person lying on their deathbed. "I've never seen her look more serious than how she was while ago. It seemed... important."

You take a moment to ponder her words. Wednesday would never ask to speak with you alone, unless it was something really grave or morbid that she had to have someone to share it with.

Or, maybe...

You can feel your heart dropping right to the pit of your stomach.

... Maybe she felt that things weren't working out between you two.

You sigh. Better to get it over with.

"Thanks, Enid. I'll go look for her now."

You stand up from your seat, grabbing your backpack from a nearby bench as you do. Before you can get far, however, Enid calls out your name.

"Y/N?"

You turn, facing a rather troubled-looking Enid. "Yeah?"

"What happened between you two?" She asks in hushed tones.

You sigh once more.

"We just had a little... misunderstanding, that's all." This, of course, was an understatement. You and Wednesday just had one of your worst fights in weeks. "I'll be fine, Enid."

This seems to terrify her even more.

"O-okay... just be careful, alright?"

"I will, thanks."

____________

Wednesday Addams stands by the edge of the balcony; feeling the cold, crisp air as it washes over her features. She's deep in thought, her mind replaying the exact same moment that's been on her mind since this morning.

"If you aren't going to be of any use to me, then I expect you to leave."

A curious feeling wells up within her. Guilt? She hardly knew the feeling. In all her years pushing down such trivial emotions, nothing quite made her insides squirm uncomfortably as the memory of your conversation did now.

In retrospect, perhaps she had been a bit too... harsh.

She sighs. Her words were only now coming back to haunt her.

"So that's all I am to you, huh? Some tool?" You had replied, clearly hurt.

"I did not say that. Do not make assumptions." She had chastised you, giving you a cold stare.

"Well what am I supposed to think, Wends? I can't be guessing all the time." You stated, shaking your head. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even do care."

"So you assume that I don't?" She had replied blandly.

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it." You huffed, turning towards the door.

There's silence.

"... Do you love me, Wednesday?" You had asked tentatively, doubt creeping in.

Wednesday's gaze had grown colder.

"Clearly, if you doubt me so much, then there is no point to this conversation." She turned, facing stubbornly away from you. "You may leave. Now."

The silence had been deafening.

"So you don't, then?" You had choked, tears forming in your eyes.

And at that precise moment, Wednesday's insides had squirmed with an incomprehensible desire, one that told her to express how she truly felt for you. However, she swallowed that primal urge as pride took over.

"Do not make me answer that question right now, Y/N. Please. Leave me be." Her tone was as cold as ice, which you took as your cue to leave that room at that very moment.

And that was that.

As the memory of your conversation draws to a close, Wednesday sighs. A sad, drawn-out sigh that was so unlike her.

She detested what you do to her. How you affected her this way. How you made her feel. Feelings were a trivial matter, she had decided from a young age.

But you?

You made her feel things that frustrated her, things that made her head spin and her heart pound. It was maddening.

She despised it. No, loathed it. She hated it so much that, during that one fateful day by the lake, she had accepted your advances of affection. She hated it so much that she had spent precious amounts of her time with you, talking and talking until she had realized that hours had gone by since you had started. Hours that she could've spent working on her novel.

She hated every bit of it.

She hated the way her heart hammered in her throat as she leaned in that night, just as you had done the same. The feeling of your lips tracing over hers...

She hated how it felt so right. So good.

Wednesday shivers.

But now? There was none of that. You hadn't talked all day, let alone spent any time together since your argument that morning. Wednesday hated how it felt, but not in the good kind of way.

For once, though she would never admit it...

She misses you.

What she wouldn't give to be able to stab herself at that very moment. The mere idea of "missing someone" was entirely foreign to her.

Until you.

A choking feeling wells up in her throat, one that she desperately tries to shove down. She would've succeeded, too, if it wasn't for the sound of a door opening up behind her.

"... Wednesday?"

She turns. There you stand, framed in the doorway, looking as though you're expecting the worst.

"I got your message from Enid. You wanted to talk?" You inquire timidly.

She nods, gesturing to the spot next to her.

You approach her cautiously, taking your place next to her by the balcony as the two of you gaze off into the distance.

The silence drags on for a good two minutes before Wednesday breaks the silence.

"I owe you an apology." She says simply.

You gaze at her in awe.

"It's okay." You blurt out, taken aback by her forwardness.

"No, it isn't." She shakes her head. She turns her cold gaze on you, and from what you can tell, this is taking a great deal of effort on her part just to be able to express herself this much. "Y/N, what I did was wrong. Rather, it's what I didn't do. You were a loving partner from the very beginning, and I failed to appreciate that."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This didn't sound like her at all.

"Wednesday, are you feeling okay...?"

She chooses to ignore this.

"Y/N..." She takes a deep breath, as though resigning herself to the worst. "You... You matter to me."

She looks pained.

Part of you is wildly unsettled by her behavior, while the other half of you finds it hard not to chuckle at her attempts to be expressive.

"... And?" You tease, pushing your luck a little bit more.

Wednesday gives you a cold stare.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You laugh nervously. "It's just, why are you telling me these things now?"

Silence falls between you two.

"You need to know, Y/N, that despite the way I... act around you, I... I do not despise you. Far from it, actually."

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Would she finally be able to say it...?

"Yes, Wends? What is it?"

"Y/N..." She gulps, the first sign of nervousness finally setting in. "You should know that...that I..."

You can feel her resolve crumbling.

"That you what, Wednesday?" You press, taking her hand in yours.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, she seems to teeter on the verge of saying, 'that I love you', but instead...

"I..." She averts her gaze, staring resolutely at the ground. "... I don't hate you, Y/N."

You can feel yourself deflate.

"Oh." It takes a moment for you to recover, but you pat her hand consolingly. You knew that she had done her best.

"Well... I don't hate you too, Wednesday." You smile encouragingly.

She glances up at you, gazing at you with a mysterious look in her eyes. To your surprise, she begins to edge closer to you, her gaze never once faltering nor breaking.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" You chuckle nervously.

No reply. She continues to lean in ever closer, without ever flinching or averting her stare. Her dark, abyssal eyes gaze deep into yours as the distance between your faces grows smaller and smaller by the second, and by now her face is a mere two inches away from your own.

You're suddenly aware of what was happening.

"W-Wait—" You whisper, but to no avail.

You never get to finish your sentence as her lips gently press against yours.

It feels so good.

And so... right.

The way her lips pucker up and part to welcome your own just feels... intoxicating. Surreal. But before you can even register the kiss more fully in your mind, she pulls away, giving you another one of her cold, sharp-edged stares.

"Tell anyone of what just happened, Y/N L/N, and I swear I will skin you alive."

You chuckle nervously.

"I swear, I won't. You have my word."

Without thinking, you throw both arms around your goth girlfriend. To your immense surprise and relief, she doesn't recoil or pull away from your touch. Instead, she does something that surprises you more than anything that had happened so far that evening.

She hugs you back.

Wednesday slips both arms around you, holding you close as you caress each other underneath the light of the full moon. A cool breeze blows through, causing Wednesday to shiver slightly in the evening air.

"I don't hate you, Y/N." She repeats for the second time that evening, her voice muffled as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

You smile, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I love you too, Wednesday."

Maybe things would work out between you two.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #male reader #self shipping #wednesday x male reader #gn reader #male!y/n #male!reader #gn!reader #gn y/n #netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday x gn reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine

[throneofsapphics]

could you do one with feysand x reader and reader’s like very feisty in public and she’s ruthless in the nightcourt but when they’re alone she’s like so submissive to them and it sometimes surprises them.😋

and i wanted to say that you literally are one of the few blogs i genuinely love, i have ur notifications on and literally click so fast whenever you post. You’re so talanted, literally love u❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

just for them 

poly!Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: Feyre and Rhys loved seeing you like this. All sweet and pliant, just for them. Completely opposite to you in the Court of Nightmares 

Warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, light bondage, non-sexual submission (sort of), minors dni please!

A/N: ahh thank you so much, i cry when people say nice things to me, i love you! I’ve never written them before so I’m not sure if I got the vibe right but I tried I promise

You rolled your eyes when a male laid a hand on your shoulder. Rhys, noticed immediately, of course. “I can handle this,” you said, through that channel he always keeps open. Amusement fluttered through, but his bored expression didn’t change. 

You clasped your opposite hand over his wrist, and twisted enough till you heard a few bones crack. 

His mouth opened, likely to spit out some vile curse, but you spoke first. “I’d keep those words to yourself, if you’d like to keep your tongue.” Your voice was sweet, but a wicked smile crossed your face as you dropped his arm. 

“You can’t -” He started to speak, but found himself dragged - not by any person, likely by Feyre’s powers, up in front of their thrones. 

“I said I could handle it.” You hissed into her mind. 

“Not to me.” 

“Care to finish that sentence?” She purred, as the entire room froze. Maybe this was their way of staking a claim on you. Again. Sometimes those people seemed to forget. The male did end up walking away, with a wrist that looked worse than how you left it, but his tongue still intact. Feyre surely could sense your annoyance, but she seemed very pleased with herself. 

-

“Look how good you are for us,” Feyre’s hand stroked your head, circling around where you knelt, palms flat on your thighs, eyes downcast. Her hand gently fisted the back of your hair, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. Rhys sat on the edge of the bed, forearms pressed against his thighs, head propped on interlocked fingers. 

“Would you rather me be bad?” 

“No.” Rhys answered quickly and firmly, his voice darkening slightly. Feyre tilted her head so you’d look right at him. “We like you just as you are,” he purred, “trust me, you won’t like the punishment if you act out.”

You remember vividly the one time you had that sort of punishment, and were not keen on reliving the experience. Rhys, who usually liked to make you finish over and over again, edged you for an entire week, not even Feyre gave you mercy. Besides, you liked submitting to them. There was a freedom in it. Something you couldn’t quite explain. And they enjoyed it too, a big bonus. Well, you wondered if it would have worked otherwise, if you’d been too different .. you felt a gentle tap at your mental barriers, recognizing it as Rhys’s. 

Normally you wouldn’t put them up, not around them. 

His two fingers curled, gesturing for you to come closer, you pictured them curled inside you, your body writhing as he - you blocked the image out and ignored the smirk on the male’s face. 

You pressed up on your knees, starting to rise to your feet, but a gentle hand pushed you back down. Feyre crouched behind you, her hands running feather light strokes down your arms. “Crawl to him.” She whispered, giving your shoulders a gentle push, and you did. You kept your eyes trained on him the entire time, watching them flicker with approval and arousal. 

The soft carpet brushed under your hands and knees, although he was only a few paces away, time seemed to slow as you made your way over. Crawl to him. Those words lit something inside you. 

His legs parted, making room for you to settle between, one hand guided your head to rest against his knee, and you happily did, letting your cheek press into the warmth of his body, through his trousers. A snap of his fingers and your clothes disappeared. You jumped as a cool breeze fluttered across your body, pebbling your nipples and putting you on edge. Rhys’s hand kept your cheek pressed firmly against him. “Don’t put those walls up,” he murmured, “I want to hear every little thought in that pretty mind of yours. Relax.” 

You did, letting your thoughts drift past, keeping a vague awareness of the sensations around you, and knew he and Feyre were talking court business. As much as you occasionally enjoyed the court of nightmares - when they let you accompany them, the politics behind it - that you despised. Your body tensed slightly, thinking of that male’s hand against your shoulder … "relax", his smooth voice flowed through your mind and you refocused your efforts, letting yourself melt into your surroundings. His fingers combed through your hair, gently loosening the slight tangles as he went. The gesture was absent-minded, natural, and you found yourself leaning into it, matching your breathing as the world slipped away. 

A thumb pressed under your chin, drawing your attention back up, your head angled slightly to the side. Feyre had a smile on her face, “how do you feel, love?” 

“Good.” You murmured, eyes a bit glazed over. 

-

Feyre and Rhys loved seeing you like this. All sweet and pliant, just for them. Completely opposite to you in the Court of Nightmares. Of course, it surprised them at first, but they quickly found themselves loving each version. 

Feyre’s hand slid back, gripping the soft skin of the back of your neck lightly. That small change was just enough that she scented your arousal rising, watching your breaths quicken. Those pretty eyes started to glaze over with lust. 

With one thought, Feyre’s clothes disappeared and Rhys chuckled as she dragged you between her legs instead. 

-

You knew exactly what she wanted, and eagerly leaned in, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, testing Feyre’s patience enough until she groaned, pushing your head in further. Perfectly for you to give small, gentle licks up her folds. The taste of her was addicting, and you let out a small moan. You knew exactly what she liked, but before you could bring your hands up, threads of magic bound them behind your back. You fought back a whine, focusing your attention on Feyre’s clit instead as she rained praises down on you. Her fingers gripped your hair as her thighs began to clench around your head. 

Through your eyelashes, you watched her throw her head back, bracing one hand on the bed behind her as the other held your head firmly in place. 

“Gods, y/n,” you could barely hear her, “such a good girl, putting that pretty little mouth to use.” 

Your arousal grew and grew, enough you could be leaving an embarrassing wet spot on the carpet. 

Her breathing steadied out, but you had no time to recover as strong arms threw you on the bed, the binds on your hands disappearing, only to reappear, binding your wrists above your lead. 

Long fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly. Not hard enough to cut off any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the pressure. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Rhys breathed, lips grazing your ear as his hand trailed down your body. “You. in our bed. All ready and perfect for us to use. That’s what you want, isn’t it darling?” 

#poly!feysand x reader #feysand x reader #acotar fic #acotar imagine #rhysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #poly!feysand #acotar x reader #not proofread #I'm not really sure about this one #also my first time posting anything for acotar #acotar smut

[lavendertales]

hello! may i please request a fic where javi sees the reader a couple weeks after a fight, they both don't talk to one another for a while (but use steve as a messenger for updates on each other because they're still best friends lmao pls). they don't know that either one loves them back and are afraid of confessing to each other, until one of them finally snaps and says 'i love you', a little soft and healing, just two friends losing each other along the way but love uniting them :')

p.s absolutely no pressure to write this! ♡

hii bby I hope you like this🥰

confessions—Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 1.1k

You’ve had arguments in the past, disagreements of all sorts, but this last one takes the cake. You’ve never been this furious.

And no one’s ever seen Javier this furious before.

Even Steve, who worked with him and even lived in the same apartment building as him, has never seen him so worked up. There was shouting that day, words such as “stubborn”, “annoying”, “careless” and “moron” thrown around for anyone to hear. By the time you and Javier finished the screaming match, his face was all red, and your eyes were all teary when you walked away.

Now, it’s been days and you and Javier were still not on speaking terms. While your job at the embassy did not entail direct contact with any of the agents, sometimes you did go out of your way to interact with Javier. Perhaps it was childish and ridiculous, especially knowing about Javier’s promiscuous reputation, but you couldn’t help it. You liked Javier, not just for all the obvious reasons like his charm and his good looks. You liked him because he paid attention to details—a nice manicure, freshly cut hair or your favorite food. He was in actuality very kind and gentle when he wanted to be. Sometimes you even thought he might like you too.

But the last fight you had proved the opposite; he was far too stubborn and set in his ways to realize what should’ve been obvious, too far gone and lost in his vices—smoking, drinking and sleeping with brothel girls. Neither vice including you.

“I have some files for Javier to sign,” you told Steve with a bored look on your face. “Could you give these to him?”

“I could, but how about you give those to him personally?”

You stared at him unimpressed, even a little mean, but Steve didn’t back out.

“Come on, this is ridiculous,” he pushed. “It’s been over a week, would you just be civil?”

“I would if he wouldn’t be so fucking stubborn.”

“You know how he is.”

“I do, that’s why I maintain that he should be the one to apologize.”

“I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“Then we’re not gonna talk for a long time.”

Steve huffed, sitting on the edge of your desk.

“Is this coming from a place of genuine concern or because you’re tired of running around delivering messages between us?” you asked rather amused.

“Let’s say genuine concern, but I am so very tired of this.”

You sighed. “Look, Steve, I’m not apologizing. The whole argument started because of him anyway, saying I shouldn’t have been on the field or whatever. But when I told him that Carrillo asked me to come to be a spy because no one would suspect me, he lost his mind even more!”

“Huh.”

“Yeah! I tried reasoning with him, but he kept calling me blind and stupid, so I called him a moron—“

Steve began to laugh, much to your dismay. You frowned, searching his face for an obvious answer, though none appeared.

“Why are you laughing?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh, you are both such idiots.”

Before Steve could explain himself and your head would explode, Javier made his dreaded entrance by walking past your desk, unable to refrain the glare he threw you and Steve.

“You idiot,” Steve called out to him, still amused.

“Excuse me?”

He was offended, and rightfully so. Javier crossed his arms at his chest, staring curiously at you two.

“You couldn’t have just told her why you didn’t want her on the field?” Steve continued. “Why you were ready to tell Carrillo ‘fuck you for suggesting this’ right to his face?”

“I did.”

“You called me stupid,” you added grudgingly.

Javier exchanged a glare with you, one which carried far too many sentiments to voice out loud, yet still beyond frustrated.

“I did and I stand by it,” Javier maintained.

“Seriously? You don’t think you were out of line, in any way?”

“No.”

You stood up from your desk, mirroring his posture as you approached him angrily. You could not believe someone would be this thick-headed, this purposely irritating for no good reason.

“You owe me an apology,” you said. “I was only following orders, just like you do all the time.”

“You’re not an agent. Carrillo was way out of fucking line to ask you to play the double agent.”

“It worked, didn’t it? I helped and you got the intel you needed, so what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is you risking your life for things that we should do!”

“Why are you still so pissed off about this, my God!”

“Because I fucking love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Javier’s words, besides shocking, were in such stark contrast with your own; yours were vicious and angry while his remained soft, almost guilty.

“My job here is done,” Steve announced silently in the background before leaving the two of you alone.

“You—wait, you what?”

Javier exhaled, visibly uncomfortable now that the words have gotten out. Although his reputation preceded him, he is not one to openly flaunt personal affairs in the workplace. But thankfully, there was no one else around at the time, and whatever this was between you and Javier, Steve was clearly in the know, so no harm, no foul.

“I do,” Javier clarified, voice small. “I—I’m in love with you. Which you probably don’t give a shit about or don’t care... I know you hear the things some agents around here say about me. I’m not—boyfriend material.”

“You think I don’t give a shit?”

Javier shrugged.

“I don’t make excuses to come in early just to have my morning coffee with anyone else. I don’t go out of my way to give documents in hand to anyone else. I don’t do my nails a certain color because someone else told me they look.”

There was an “oh” perfectly readable on Javier’s face, the moment of realization kicking in seconds later. You giggled, shyly reaching for one of his hands.

“I pity the foolish woman who falls in love with Javier Peña because it’s a tough mission,” you said. “Renowned womanizer, killer charm and smile…”

“No more than that cute secretary they got over here at the embassy. One hell of a woman. He might easily fall for her too.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on your lips, one of many to come.

#requests #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fluff #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff

[fyodorloveclub]

the long game

notes: i………… yeah. i blame @nameless-noodles @hnnnnnnnmscorner

cw: thigh riding, edging, this is fr so nasty

pairing: fyodor x afab reader

18+ minors dni!!!!!!!

“Fedya please, baby, please”, you begged.

“I’m busy, darling, you know this,” he said, continuing to scribble in the notebook in front of him.

“But I need you,” you whined.

“Myshka, you know I always want to steal you from whatever you’re doing and throw you on our bed so I can have my way with you,” he replied calmly. “But if I gave in to that impulse every time i wanted to, neither of us would ever leave that bedroom.” 

“But what if I want it to be like that?” you tightened your grip around his shoulders, leaning over his chair to hug him from the back. 

“I know you do darling, I’m sorry,” he hummed, genuine apology in his voice.

You continued pouting, disappointed your lover wouldn’t give in. He had been working tirelessly the past week, and you ached for him so badly it hurt. Today had been especially bad, with him already being holed away in his office before you even woke up. He also ate all of his meals in his office, when he would usually make time to eat with you. 

It was especially bad because he refused to let you get yourself off even to the thought of him - no one was allowed to make you orgasm except him, not even you. All you wanted, all you needed, was to be fucked into oblivion. Why was that too much to ask?

You had found yourself subconsciously rubbing off on things, desperately in need of stimulation. Without even thinking about it you would end up humping pillows on the couch, the mattress in your sleep, the thick inner seam of your jeans. One night you had picked up one of Fyodor’s discarded shirts in the bathroom, taking that in between your legs. That one was less of an accident, but you were desperate. You never went to completion, didn’t want to betray your beautiful Fedya like that. Not when he treated you so well.

What Fyodor hadn’t told you was that he noticed. He watched you rub against the mattress, making his cock twitch. And when he picked up that shirt in the bathroom, he could smell the remnants of your cunt. A scent he knew (and loved) quite well. But he was playing the long game. He wanted to see how worked up he could get you, how desperately you begged and whined, how far you would go just for some relief. And he was beginning to see the fruits of his labor. He wasn’t lying, he did want to tie you down and fuck you stupid for hours, until you begged him to stop. He wouldn’t say it, but he needed you as just as much as you needed him. 

He needed the taste of your sloppy pussy on his tongue, dripping wet just for him. He could eat you out all day long if you’d let him- and at this point you probably would. The thought of Fyodor’s face in between your legs, hot mouth on you made you want to cry. 

But the game wasn’t over yet. He wanted to push you just a little longer. He genuinely did need to get some work done, after all. But he considered getting you off very simply, giving you just a little bit to tide you over until he could devote every minute to destroying and corrupting you. Plus, he figured the reminder of what it felt like getting off by him would drive you even crazier. He was right.

“Come, my darling, sit in my lap,” he said, turning his chair and opening his arms as invitation. 

You squealed quietly, not wanting to appear too desperate. You settled happily onto his lap, your legs braced around his thighs and arms wrapped around his neck. He rested his hands on your hips, looking up at you with violet eyes full of adoration. 

“I love you deeply, my darling. You know this?”

You beamed at him. “Yes I do, Fedya. And I love you more.”

“Not possible,” he replied, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“Now, dear,” he said, a demanding tone lining the words. “I will allow you to pleasure yourself on my thigh, but no more than that. No touching yourself. Only I am allowed the privilege of making you come.” 

You nodded fervently, grateful for even the smallest bit of release. 

“I will have to continue working, if you hope for me to be finished in a timely manner tonight. Do you understand?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question. You again nodded. “Okay. Undress, and you may use my thigh.”

You did not need to be told twice. You quickly hopped off of his lap, removing your pants and panties, as well as your shirt, leaving you only in the black lacy bra you knew he loved. He paid extra special attention to your tits when you wore it, typically resulting in a smattering of bites and dark bruises all over your chest, and at least one orgasm caused by nipple stimulation alone.

Once undressed you perched yourself back onto his lap, this time with both legs only straddling one thigh. The minuscule pressure of his fit leg against your already throbbing clit made you shudder.

He looked you up and down, taking in the beauty of your naked body on full display right in front of him. You tended to have sex in the darkness of your bedroom, so it was truly special to be able to take in every little curve and feature of your breathtaking body. He didn’t have the proper words to describe how utterly, enticingly sexy you were to him.

But it was not quite time for that- not yet, anyway. He picked up his pen to continue his writing before nodding at you, giving you permission to begin. 

You placed your hands on his strong shoulders to steady yourself as you began rocking back and forth on his thigh. A loud, high-pitched moan escaped from your throat at the first wave of pleasure. You didn’t even fully grasp how pent up you were. Squeezing your eyes shut, you picked up the speed, humping his leg feverishly. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, crying out at the feeling you so desperately chased. Fyodor smirked listening to the slutty cries just from humping him.

Suddenly he tensed his strong thigh muscles, hardening the pressure against your sweet spot. You whimpered and shivered, wanting so, so much more. 

“Fedya baby, I need you inside me,” you whined, unable to still your hips. Your body seemed to be chasing the feeling separate of your mind.

“Not now, dear.” His voice was far too calm as his eyes did not stray from his work. You couldn’t understand.

But again, Fyodor was playing the long game. He was fighting every single instinct in his body that screamed at him to slam you on the desk and shove his cock into you as fast as possible. He was a patient, disciplined man who knew exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was you underneath him in your bed, a crying mess, and for him to have nothing else to focus on but fucking you.

The juices that flowed out of you as you rode his thigh had soaked through his pants, and his cock twitched at the thought. He squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths. 

“Making quite the mess, aren’t we?” he asked, voice as cool as ever. Words were lost on you - all you could do was whine. 

Your nails dug deep into the fabric of his dress shirt as you fucked down on him, beginning to feel the tightness deep inside you. He pet your hair calmly as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“It’s okay, dear. I give you permission to come.”

That was all you needed to hear. You rubbed your pussy on him so forcefully the chair shook, trying to get as much friction against your swollen clit as possible. It wasn’t long before you climaxed, crying out as the shockwaves rippled through your body. You had squirted without even realizing, only noticing when you saw how soaking wet the leg of his pants was. 

“Sorry,” you giggled, breathless. Even though you had just come you still wanted more, still craved Fedya’s hands and mouth all over you and cock inside you.

He smiled softly at you. “No need to apologize, my love.”

“Fedya,” you whined. “I still need you, please.” You buried your face in his neck, hugging him even tighter to you.

Fyodor only chuckled, scribbling with one hand and petting your hair with the other. “Worry not,” he whispered. “Tonight I will take you all to myself, wreck you so much you forget your own name. So I will give you mine instead.”

Tonight couldn’t arrive faster.

#fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #bungo stray dogs smut #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor imagines #sealed with a kiss ♡ #flora’s fics

[sure-i-exist]

The dragon riders’ ranking of each other

it was a thought I had so now I’m doing it.

Hiccup -

Astrid (they’re a great team together, they balance each other well and she’s always been there for him since she first found out about toothless)

Fishlegs (Hiccup loves talking with fishlegs, he’s one of his closest friends and they can spend hours just rambling to each other. But they both also enjoy time separate and just chilling kinda on their own yknow?)

Tuffnut (he’s difficult to work with, but he is very funny and can sometimes lead to hiccups greatest ideas. He’s a fun guy to be around as long you’re not busy working. Also hiccups fascinated by the twins’ ingenuity, and I guarantee he just loves thinking about things they suggest he should make and figuring if he could actually make it work for real)

Snotlout (look, Hiccup loves snotlout and he’s sympathetic cause he knows he’s got his own issues with his dad and all, but he’s also a pain in the ass sometimes. It has to be said, Snotlout can just be difficult to work with on a day-to-day basis, often wanting to one-up hiccup when he’s not interested in participating. He’s gotten better over the years but it’s just annoying sometimes)

Ruffnut (honestly, I just think ruff and hiccup don’t hang out one-on-one as much as anyone else on the team. In the show(s) they never do if I recall, but even just on interpretation I don’t reckon they would much. If they did, she might be higher but overall i think they’re probably the least close of anyone on the team. To be clear, they’re still incredibly close - you kinda have to be after living on a small island together for a year with few other people - but comparatively less than other duos are with each other)

Astrid -

Hiccup (good team, doesn’t try to push her buttons and it’s fun to spar together - astrid usually wins but occasionally hiccup gets the upper hand)

Ruffnut (weirdly high, but I think after their fight in whatever that ep was in rtte where astrid and the twins were left to defend the Edge, astrid would have a genuine respect for ruffnut. They get along better as time goes on but she can be pretty funny, ya gotta admit)

Fishlegs (less annoying than the rest. If I’m honest it’s just that. She does love all of them but she’d put him above others not cause she likes him more but cause he annoys her less. He’s still below ruffnut just cause ruffnut sorta proved herself to astrid and that counts a lot for astrids opinion of a person, moreso even than just how much she enjoys talking with them)

Tuffnut (again, proved himself to astrid like ruffnut and honestly that’s mostly it for specific reasoning. She does love the guy but he gets on her nerves very often.) (Ruffnut’s “proving herself” has her ranked so highly cause it’s standing up to someone, even when that someone is Astrid herself, and Tuffnut’s “proving himself” doesn’t give as much of a boost because his came from proving astrid wrong about his capabilities, rather than being outwardly brave)

Snotlout (she does care about him and does fully and truly consider him one of her greatest friends, she’d die for him, she’d gladly protect him however necessary like she would for all of them... but he’s annoying as all hell. On the plus side he’s also very fun to mess with)

Fishlegs -

Hiccup (hiccup respects him the most, and fishlegs respects him. Also it’s so much fun talking about dragons together it’s awesome)

honestly probably Astrid (same reason as she has for him; less annoying than others. At the same time tho I think they’d find it fun to kinda gossip together (neither would ever admit to it). Like they’ll talk about hiccup and Snotlout and Heather and whatever antics the twins got into and actually I think they’d honestly have a blast just chatting and talking shit about the others. I bet they have meetings every week. New headcanon acquired)

Ruffnut (look, she’s hard to work with but I think fishlegs can see her intelligence and he appreciates it. I think also he just has a lot of love for his friends and after both the almost-marriage in Snotlout Gets the Axe and trying to coach Throk in wooing her, I reckon he got a bit of a soft spot for her

Snotlout (like I said, fishlegs has a lot of love for his friends. And Snotlout sure stretches that love to its limit at times but when it’s important, he’s there.)

Tuffnut (fishlegs finds it hard to just. Hang out with him. Tuffnut isn’t really one for calm, and Fishlegs is not a fan of constant action and excitement like the twins get up to. They’re very different people, they do care for each other but like damn they’re complete opposites 90% of the time, so they just don’t casually hang out much)

Snotlout -

Hiccup (he has so much respect for the guy, and yeah he’s also jealous but like. He’s fun, he’s cool, and he understands snotlout on a further level than the others, hiccup had issues living up to his dad’s expectations and Snotlout does too (think “maybe we aren’t so different” at the end of Snotlout gets the axe), just a lot of love and respect for the guy)

Tuffnut (best friends. That’s all I have to say)

Astrid (he respects her a lot, especially her fighting prowess, and altho he likes to annoy her (both deliberately and not) I just think he cares a lot for her, more than either of them would ever admit)

Fishlegs (does Snotlout take the piss and find him kinda lame a lot of the time? Yes. But there are times when he holds a lot of admiration for fishlegs, and there are times when they are just hanging. That time Fishlegs, Snotlout and Throk were basically doing gardening together? Phenomenal, I want more of that.)

Ruffnut (she scares him)

Tuffnut -

Ruffnut (of course)

Snotlout (he’s funny, he’s silly, and he’s very fun to mess with. Also he’s dumb enough to go along with some of their plans - getting in a fight with hiccup, for example)

Hiccup (honestly, he just loves the guy. He’s cool, he’s fun, he makes fun inventions - and he is the least likely to treat ruff and tuff like they’re stupid)

Fishlegs (he’s a great guy. He’s fun to mess with. One time he almost-married tuff’s own sister. What more can a guy ask for?)

Astrid (look, she’s awesome, and intimidating. And also kinda mean sometimes. She’s still awesome, but on a purely hanging-out basis she’s less fun than others that’s for sure)

Ruffnut -

Tuffnut (obviously. And by a long shot)

Hiccup (if she could convince Stoick to disown him and then the Thorston family to adopt him, she would)

Fishlegs (he’s sweet, kinda annoying at times but so’s everyone, not to mention on the flip side he’s fun to annoy. So it’s even.)

Astrid (she’s got respect for her. And astrid’s cool, a mildly terrible cook and often thinks her shits more important than others, but she’s cool.)

Snotlout (sorry, snotty boy, but as much as they hang out, he’s still the least favourite. He’s fun, and she does like messing around with him - both in terms of annoying him, and teaming up with him and tuffnut to annoy others - but I think out of everyone, it’s him or astrid that’s the lowest ranking for her. And she’d pick him for last place any day, because it would be funnier)

Bonuses!

Toothless is actually Hiccup’s no. 1.

and Heather would be Astrid’s 1.5.

Dagur’s a wild card for everyone, he rapidly changes ranking based on what he was like the last time they talked to him.

#race to the edge #snotlout jorgenson #httyd #fishlegs ingerman #astrid hofferson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup haddock #httyd rtte #yeah I think that’s all the tags

[ingravinoveritas]

Hello there! I hope you are doing well (as well as someone who has completed watching season 2) First of all congrats on moving into a new house! I'm still having lots of Feelings™ to process after finishing the second season.. oh god the acting, the genuine emotions on the faces of both Michael and David this time around... I'm simultaneously radiating happiness and being utterly destroyed. And the increasing intimacy between them in the interviews is not helping matters either... I think (this has been marinating in my head for a while) one of the reasons they are doing this is to physically reassure each other that they are not apart, they are still a team and still on their side, because after the heart wrenching ending of the season, it would have been very hard for them to come to terms with it, as they had put their whole beings, their whole souls into playing Azi and Crowley, which might have made it difficult to draw a line where the characters ended and they begin... So the touches, their body language became a sort of coping mechanism, something which said 'hey, don't worry, I'm still here.. I have not gone away, we're still together' and this makes me wanna cry again 😭

I hope my word vomit makes an iota of sense (English is not my first language by a long shot, so) and I hope you do find some time to rest and have a warm beverage of your choice while unwinding. Stay safe and blessed!!

Hi there! Thank you so much for the congrats on my move, I truly appreciate it. I've actually had a very rough couple of days, as on top of the move, my Facebook account was hacked earlier this week, and it essentially pushed me over the edge and I was crying for much of Monday and felt like I had a crying "hangover" all day Tuesday.

You do not at all have to apologize for your Ask--your English is very good!--and I'm glad to read your thoughts as I make my way through all the Anons still residing in my inbox. Truly, we are fortunate to have GO 2 and Michael and David to focus on, as well as the abundance of interviews we've gotten after months and months of little to no content.

To start: I absolutely agree with you, re: the intimacy between Michael and David in these interviews. It's been so fascinating to see them get more flirty and touchy-feely with each progressive interview (I know we don't know the order in which they were done, but I imagine the flirting/touching increased as the day went on). And while I can definitely see them doing what you described--reassuring each other, touching and being close as a coping mechanism--my feeling is they already did all that last year, probably right after filming That Scene. (There is actually a gorgeous MS/DT fic on AO3 right now that depicts exactly that, and it's definitely worth reading.)

But in terms of all the intimacy and touching in the more recent interviews (from last month), I think what we're seeing is something else. I think Michael and David are beyond the need for reassurance because they are so comfortable with each other and know they're still together, permanently. There's no more of the uncertainty of parting ways after the promo interviews end--only the promise of seeing each other again as soon as both their lives and schedules allow it.

There have been so many moments of telling body language and touches and expressions, but if I had to pick a favorite (well, a few), one would be them walking arm-in-arm onto The One Show:

And the other would be David leaning so far over and draping his arm around Michael in the Amazon Q&A video:

...And of course (and possibly most notable), Michael and David seemingly unconsciously moving closer to each other in the TV Insider interview:

It's so telling that there is no urgency or desperateness to any of this--only comfort and very much that sense of "on our side" that you mentioned. Walking out arm-in-arm as they did in particular adds to that "us against the world" feeling and the not-so-subtle implication that while they were Michael Sheen and David Tennant on the season one press tour, here, now, they are Michael and David. Inseparable, always intertwined, and having so much more of themselves in the characters of Aziraphale and Crowley than in the first season.

So yes, everything you wrote absolutely did make sense, and I appreciate you writing in to share your thoughts with me. I have a lot more thoughts/analysis about GO season 2 still to share, which I hope to do in response to the numerous Anons still waiting in my inbox. Thanks for writing in! x

#yami-no-kokoro #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #good omens 2 #this proves that michael and david's chemistry is what made go what it was #also David calling Michael his 'wife.' again. #i've never seen david be so blatant #saying a lot by saying very little #but more and more it seems like david relies on him and trusts him #they both know exactly what they are doing #tell me again that they're not a couple #ineffable lovers #discourse #gifs by me

[starfleetwitch]

Berenice Griselda Wolfe tried to kill me and when that didn't work, she sabotaged my home set up by being a flirty MF with a TARDIS.

(Not a sentence I thought I'd EVER write completely sober or seriously but here we are)

This is a bit of a long story and now I've written it and got it out of my system I fully realise just how much I resemble a dog barking at a corner for no reason.

There is a TLDR at the end

Story time:

So I got this Tardis themed external USB hub for Christmas a few years ago.

It's kinda cool, lights up when you plug in a USB and what not. Fantastic. It also made that scrapping TARDIS sound when you plug in USBs. Also a fantastic feature, quite quirky. Much wow... For a week and then it really grated on my nerves. Found out after a month there was a switch on the side that let you turn the sound off. Wonderful. Fantastic. Problem solved. They all lived happily ever after, end of the story.

Except it wasn't.

Because the internet exists and with it, great knowledge that I shouldn't have been allowed access to.

I got bored and last year during some death scrolling, I found out I could change that hideously irritating TARDIS scraping sound...

...TO WHAT EVER I WANTED...

... And lesbian jesus help me, I wanted to be funny 🙈

So I decided to use sound bites from Holby City. Specifically from Bernie Wolfe.

We had "I say ding dong" for when a USB was pushed into a slot and "Easy tiger" for when a USB was pulled out of a slot.

Link here for reference: Where it all went wrong

Anyway. For a while it was quite funny... Except for you know... When my volume was turned up full blast and I was getting jump scared by Bernie Wolfe's voice every time I plugged in, lord knows what the rest of the house thought every time it went off.

I lived with it for a while... You know... Haha, scared me, GOT ME AGAIN BERNIE YOU OLD SCALLY WAG! But then things started going wrong. The jump scares started going into heart failure mode when in the middle of the night if I was doing a long download, she'd just randomly yell 'DING DONG!' or even worse, she'd start stuttering on full volume 'I SAY I SAY I SAY DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG'. GENUINE heart failure territory. Like FOR GODS SAKES BERENICE STFU!!!

Me being me, I forgot how I'd changed the setting to be her voice... And also at this point, I should add, the switch on the side to stop her talking stopped working.

I must assume murdering me in cold blood via jump scares just wasn't working fast enough for her because for a while she stopped.

All seemed well in the land of Starfleet Witch but unbeknownst to me, Bernie was plotting something bigger. Something she knew would REALLY insta kill me.

I started working from home for a bit and randomly about a week in, she did it again... Except this time she yelled 'EASY TIGER' and that was it. Nothing seemed out of place, she never spoke again after that. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks.

Until last week (AKA THE WEEK THAT NEVER ENDED.)

I'd been in an anxious spiral. Shit was happening IRL and I was TERRIFIED of the future. She saw this weakness in me, witnessed first hand how on the edge I was and decided, like the spiteful cunt she is, that now was the time to hatch her brilliant plan.

Wednesday morning. I had a deadline. 9:30am arrived... But my computer wouldn't turn on. I rang for help, I had switched it on and off many times... Nothing. 10:30am rolled around. I unplugged everything, had the very guts of my computer spread out across my floor praying it would be an easy fix... Nothing. At the 11th hour, I plugged everything back in and tried to turn it on again, constantly pressing F8 to reboot it and miracle of miracles, it worked! I downloaded some software to test the hard drive health, did some diagnostics and everything seemed fine. Better than fine. The computer was HEALTHY AF! So I prayed it may have been just a one off glitch.

It wasn't.

In fact my computer repeated its issue of booting up every morning after that, an expense I couldn't afford to fix any time soon but I NEEDED the computer for work.

Friday morning rolled around, I unplugged everything, held the very heart of my computer in my hands trying to find a loose connection or SOMETHING. Nothing. Everything was fine. Dejected, this time when I tried to turn the computer on, I only plugged in the power cable, screen and keyboard.

It worked first try.

And that's when I FINALLY got suspicions.

Over the weekend I decided to do some experiments. I tried plugging in different things I hadn't plugged in when I last tried switching it on and low and behold it wouldn't turn on when Bernie TARDIS was plugged in.

And that dear friends is when I decided aging 40 years in the space of days over a joke isn't actually funny and that I'd CLEARLY wronged a god somewhere along the way, for what crueller punishment could they bestow upon me than to have my very muse almost kill me via an anxiety induced heart attack?

TLDR:

I haven't found out how yet but my TARDIS with Bernie's voice clearly got possessed by a disgruntled spirit insisting on making my life a living hell and now it's in quarantine until I can cleanse it's soul and work out how to take it's voice away again.

Moral of the story: Don't give things Bernie Wolfe's voice, no matter how funny you think it'll be. Bolting upright in your bed because you heard Jemma Redgrave say "ding dong" at 3am isn't actually as pleasant an experience as you might think and when it happens several times, it's terrifying.

#Anyway I've lost my mind and I'mma go bark at a wall now I've calmed down and am less angry at actual bernie #Normal scheduling shall now resume #Maybe bernie wouldnt have been so spiteful if I'd given something else Serena's voice #FUCKING TERRIFYING #bernie wolfe