#i know my limits i know how much or little i need to survive i know that i can usually more or less bounce back after a tough time

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

okay weird q incoming but what ways do you think speedsters can get sick? Like to my understanding, they can’t really come down with normal virus’ like the flu, right? But they could get things like chronic migraines?

NANOBOTS!!! This is one of the best pieces of canon lore ever. I did a whole post on it but TLDR: normal human metabolisms have so much shit going on that they don't even notice nanobots in their body BUT speedsters have hyper accelerated metabolisms that are the equivalent of the straight A's overachiever in school on meth. So speedster metabolisms do notice nanobots and they attack full force, triggering all of the body's defenses and responses.

But the nanobots are metal so it obviously doesn't do anything. It just leaves the speedster lethargic, feverish, vomiting, dizzy, with a headache, sore muscles and a runny nose, ect. It's basically an allergic reaction.

Now, poisoning them can work depending on what the poison is/what the dosage is. You would need a 100% fatal poison and you would need a fairly high dose. Because speedsters heal fast and they have a hyper accelerated metabolism, so any poison that is based on toxicity (alcohol poisoning for example) would be out of their system faster than it could even take effect.

But poisons that can't be cleared out/processed by the body (take cyanide for example, it binds with the chemical receptors in your body making it physically impossible to use oxygen) wouldn't really be affected by their metabolism at all. So while the speedsters could heal the damaged tissues from these poisons fairly quickly (making it seem as though they were only slightly affected) they would ultimately need time to do so, time they would not have if it kills them first. This isn't technically what you are asking because there would be no substance that 'makes them sick', there would only be 'fine', 'not fine for like a minute and then fine again' and 'dead'. (... unless they were hooked up to a steady supply of the toxin)

Likewise, (this is getting more into theoretical territory, less canon) there might be some illnesses that would affect them? Not for long but if you got something super fucking fatal like Rabies, it might make them display mild cold symptoms for a day or something.

I don't know though. They have really fucking good immune systems. And even super fatal diseases can be fought. Take my example of Rabies, while it is commonly thought to be 100% fatal once symptoms show up there actually have been cases of people surviving it. Rabies is a very stealthy and fast disease, so the main problem with treating it is that your body's immune system isn't fast enough to stop it. People have survived by being placed in medically induced comas (slowing their bodily functions and thus the disease) for long enough that the medication can eradicate it. So for a speedster? That's gone in a minute tops. You would need an insane disease that I'm not sure even exists.

There's also like... pregnancy and menstruation. Growing pains, muscle pain from running is a BIG ONE, being dehydrated/starvation, blood loss, ect. Lots of ways to fuck with a speedster in a way they can't immediately fix.

There are also speedster specific ailments. It's basically 50/50 if a natural born speedster gets a weird highly fatal aging disease. Sometimes speedsters can be born without a kinetic energy shield which makes using their powers at all incredibly fatal to them. All speedsters will have connectivity issues at some point that can be fatal. Sometimes Time Gets Bad™ (shout out to when Barry kept chronically stealing time from people/things every time he used his powers). Sometimes they have too much energy and can't maintain human form (shout out to when Wally didn't know what the speedforce was and was accidentally cosplaying Ghost Rider). Velocity 9 is a highly addictive drug that works on speedsters and makes them display typical addiction behavior (and withdrawal). V9 can also cause a speedster to 'overdose' (burst into flames/lightning/energy). They all have the constant urge to yeet themselves into the speedforce. Ect.

#here's the thing: they are made of speedforce but its not a skin deep thing. you feel me? like their CELLS are made of speedforce #so all shit still affects them #i keep saying that they don't need oxygen or food to survive and thats true but its only if they're actively compensating with speedforce #cause they can get energy from the speedforce or they can get energy from oxygen and food or both. they can't do neither #and they don't really *know* or understand that theyd be fine with JUST speedforce energy. they still think they need oxygen and food #so if they were suffocating or something they might instinctively crank up the speedforce to compensate but they're also very stupid #so they might just die. idk it really depends on who it is how much they know and how much SF they're drawing on #cause like... energy beings need energy yo #i hope this makes sense #the muscle pain one is interesting cause Wallys early runs are really big on the whole hitting the wall thing #he would hit a wall that he physically couldn't break through and it caused him a lot of pain. #some of that was not being hooked up properly cause Wally wasn't hooked up properly until he was an ADULT #because he is FUCKING INSANE and he just went 'huh i guess this is my limit and i will stay below it' liKE AN INSANE PERSON #anyway some of it was SF issues and some of it was mental but he actually got really really hurt anytime he got close to the wall #REALLY bad muscle pain. and like... it was potentially extremely fatal. 'breaking down your body into little bits' fatal #he doesn't get that anymore because hes properly hooked up now but jfc that man treated 'entering the death zone' like it was #the high score to beat at his local arcade. he took it as a fucking challenge. absolutely insane dude right there

[dont-offend-the-bees]

We need better fucking care infrastructure. I should not be trusted with anyone's care ever 💛

#thing is caring for myself? I'm not GREAT at it but i can scrape by #i know my limits i know how much or little i need to survive i know that i can usually more or less bounce back after a tough time #i think if my life fell out from under me i could probably scrape it back even if i wound up doing a lot of couch surfing in the meantime #i genuinely don't know how I'll survive if i have to be fucking sole carer for someone #dad's on his way back now and he's been prescribed antibiotics and hopefully that's that #but at least a couple of times a year there's some shit like this #an awful cough or an infection or a fucking insane choice to like do some diy on the outside of the house standing on the windowsill #he fucking nearly chokes on his food once or twice a week #maybe he's just one of those cockroach type motherfuckers who'll never die no matter how the universe steps on him #but I'm fucking PISSED that he's taking that for granted and won't even sit and fucking talk to me about what happens when his luck runs out #I've been looking after mum alone for what four hours today and I'm already so tired and frustrated i wanna die #i am. a deeply impatient and unsociable creature. #i can be infinitely patient with friends! those are my fave people i chose to have them in my life I'd wait like a fucking mountain for them #mum and i were.... already sort of At Odds before all this started. #i'm the kid she never 100% really wanted and who never really 100% wanted to be here #and now we're stuck together and one day possibly sooner than any of us want it will be. just the two of us. #and i just. i don't know what that looks like. i really don't. #anyway. mental breakdown over hopefullly. #with a bit of luck dad and i actually fucking TALK before the next one #idk man. i never really knew what i wanted to do with my life but i thought I'd have time to figure it out #but maybe I'm just. the unqualified burnout with covid memory damage and a whole ass other human to care for #the exact thing i set out to avoid when i decided never to have kids #anyway. enough oversharing. #thank you anyone who's read my spiralling tag rambles in solidarity i love you #mr. bees speaks

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

#ask #anon #sollux captor #homestuck #hs2 spoilers #2023 #vioart #hs2 sollux explaining girls and bitches to john: 🗣️🗣️🗣️ #mr foods‚ setting up the visuals: LMAO ok pause. cool story bro theyre all gone its just u n ur sandwich bro. #now that i think abt it sol's kind of a toaster? awkwardly takes up countertop space #lacks the versatility and sociability of an air fryer/pressure cooker. unwashed and littered w crumbs! #but sometimes the clear‚ frank simplicity of the toaster is a temporary lifesaver for ppl who struggle w low appetite / decision fatigue #or ppl who just have a habit of eating toast for breakfast LOL #and eh ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ even if u dont feel like toasting today thats ok he's still gonna be sitting there 👍👍 #a funnyman..... i curse him in my pan but root for him in my biscuit 🫶

[stil-lindigo]

You'r eunder no obligation to reply but I'd like to ask, how do you keep your head up these days considering the genocide? It's been nearly five months now, my entire family is giving up the stirke and falling into propoganda, and every time i think "surely this is the end, no way the us will keep supporting this, israel is on limited time" i keep seeing no end in my twitter feed to the countless losses, i keep seeing gore and childrens butchered on my tiktok. i dont wanna lose hope or faith but ive started feeling so depressed these days that i dont even wanna open my social media because i know what ill see. it might sound selfish but i hope i can open up my tiktok and see silly little people doing trends again instead of seeing one between 6 posts asking to use filters so that they can donate and detailing the necessities that israel banned from palestine and it just feels so soul crushing and hopeless. it makes me feel worse because if im tired of it then how do palestanians cope being in it? if you have any tips or good news id be grateful

hi anon. A lot of what Palestinians report first-hand is graphic, and horrifying, and would contribute to that soul-crushing feeling. But they are so tenacious, they have so much love for their people, their country. Often, Bisan or Motaz or Plestia when she was still in Gaza will share little slices of joy from displaced Palestinians. It reinvigorates me, and I'll often return to watch them when things seem dire.

A baby in Gaza, blessedly unaware of the horrors. Look at that smile!

A Palestinian mother makes donuts for her children, and offers Bisan one as she prepares for an interview. She (the mother) talks about how she makes treats like this to try to cheer up her children, how she keeps herself busy like this so she can't feel the grief of the situation. It is expensive to buy firewood these days, and flour. At her side, her children chip away at a block of wood to help her.

if you'd like to support people like this family, donate to CareforGaza, which directly distributes supplies and money to families in need. They have stopped donations to their Gofundme campaign due to overwhelming support, but you can still donate via the paypal link in their bio.

Young Palestinians parkour in the ruins of Gaza, to show that Israeli bombing will not kill their spirits.

Mo, a Palestinian man, buys cat food after searching for two days straight, and feeds the stray cats in Gaza.

Palestinian children at a refugee camp filming a cute video.

Although they've lost their home, a Palestinian family gather to celebrate their youngest child's birthday, complete with a small cake and a birthday hat.

Bisan makes bread in Khan Younis.

Palestinians celebrate the birthday of an injured girl in hospital, with a small cake. One of them has dressed up as a clown.

After losing 22 members of his family and being injured in a bombardment, a Palestinian man named Mohammed Al Ghandour marries his fiance in a tent.

A Palestinian journalist plays with a baby who survived an airstrike.

@/nisreendiary on TikTok documents the process of making fresh bread in a tent in a calming video.

I got most of these off twitter, from this thread. Twitter is a hellscape at the best of times, but the easy communication it provides is a blessing. I'll try to share more of the good news here, as they pop up. In the future, I recommend you follow Eye on Palestine, or Al Jazeera if you'd like to stay informed on the situation in Gaza with minimal scrolling.

#keep your head up anon #theres no losing hope when palestinians find time and space in hell to feel joy #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #free west bank #palestine support

[sleepyangelkami]

NS//FW ALPHABET .vi

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 5.3K

VI (ARCANE) X FEM!READER

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, nsf//w themes, much much more but unfortunately i will not be typing them all out because this entire post is around sexual themes, read at your own risk ! intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

AFTERCARE, what they're like after sex vi likes to be a little rough, this is no secret to you or her. but she makes sure to change that as soon as it's over. she'll take the harness off her hips, discarding it before crawling back up to you, placing kisses on your cheek and shoulder. "you okay?" always wanting to know what's going on inside you're head. "was it okay? too rough? no?" of course she likes it rough, so do you, neither of you would have it any other way but she also wants to make sure that you can communicate your limits, even through your fucked out glossy lips. "good girl, that feel better?" she'll already be rubbing cream on the little bruises, whether it was on your hips or across your ass. she doesn't care where it hurts, all she cares is to make it better. "my pretty girl, did so well." she'll make sure to murmur as she cleans your bottom half with a cloth, trying to ignore your broken whimpers as she coos, attempting to shush you. you'll both sleep naked, skin to skin with your arms woven around her neck, hers around your waist and holding you close. 

BODY PART, her favourite body part of hers and also yours it's no secret that you're obsessed with her arms, it made her a little obsessed with them too. she loves her biseps, the way they flex and most importantly, the way you stare at them, all wet-mouthed when they do. she also loves the strength in her arm to keep you pinned against the bed, stopping you from writhing under her or the way they sit at either side of your head, watching you get wide eyed at feeling a little trapped yet awfully flustered. she loves how much you love them. she adores all of you, truly every inch of your body but she'd be lying if she said she didn't love those thighs impossibly more. she loves grabbing at them, pushing your little skirts and dresses up to reveal the skin that she can push and pinch at. she adores nothing more than being inside you, head thrown back yet still, her hands are on those precious thighs, kneading and playing with the plush skin. they're like two stressballs in her hands and you can't help but writhe against her as she does so.

CUM, anything to do with cum really vi can squirt pretty easily, it just comes naturally to her. but what she loves even more than squirting is making you squirt. when you'd looked away, all shy and embarrassed after telling her you'd never been able to squirt before, she just had to take it on as a challenge. and when she was fingering you, pumping her fingers in and out as her mouth sucked on your clit, she couldn't help but grin at the spurts coming from your cunt. "atta girl." she'd coo, pulling her mouth away and pressing a slap to your pussy. "that's it, good girl." all proud of herself for being able to achieve the said impossible.

DIRTY SECRET, a dirty secret of hers vi wouldn't call herself a criminal. sure, she spent her fair share inside stillwater though she thought those circumstances were sort of unnecessary. she thought once she got out, she'd left her thief days behind her. not that she'd call it stealing, she always said she was just doing what she needed to survive. but if that were true, your white cotton panties wouldn't be hidden in her drawer or your lacy pink ones wouldn't be sitting in her back pocket. she was so discrete about it, waiting until you'd turned away or even walked away for a second before slipping them between her fingers and into the back of her pants, right in the pocket. she was good at being sly about it, after all, she'd had practice. you'd come back, looking through your laundry basket or the folded clothes on your bed, brows knit together all confused. "something wrong, cupcake?" she'd question, pretending not to be interested as her eyes studied the comic book that had been sitting on your bed or something or other. "jus' looking for something." you'd mumble distractedly, fishing through your clothes once more, you'd think you'd gone insane. but vi then turned her attention on you, feigning confusion. "what're you looking for?" she'd smirk at the way you'd flush then, turning away. "n-nothing."

EXPERIENCE, how experienced is she? does she know what she's doing? you know, most people think vi doesn't have much experience seeing as she was in prison for a couple years but i BEG TO DIFFER. you cannot tell me this girl wasn't getting around behind those bars. every lunch, every dinner, every time she got out, she was eyeing up someone knew. she didn't care whether they were desperate or played hard to get, she had no preferences when it came to that prison, not that she had a lot to work with anyway. but aside from that, she was pretty much open to just about anything. she didn't care who it was, if they were willing to give, she was willing to take. though, it was often in the most uncomfortable places in the world. in the janitors closet or some other remote area where she wouldn't get caught. times could get tough inside prison and sometimes all you needed was to blow off some steam and get that anger out which is exactly what she did. i think vi would be very experienced in that department which is why it was so different when it came to you. both in a soft bed, no pressure, no need for stress relief. it came calm to her, like she didn't have to rush unlike the people in the prison where if the quickie didn't hurry up, they'd be getting caught by enforcers. which is probably not what one would want to see as they... you know, finish?

FAVOURITE POSITION, self explanatory I think vi likes having you in missionary. there's something about her holding you close, one hand coming beneath your chin to force your head up. "look at me when you take it, 'kay baby?" her voice filled with little whimpers here and there because as much as she tried to stay strong, she couldn't help the way you made her feel. she wants you to keep eye contact all the time, forcing you to look at her whenever your eyes drift away or shut closed. when you're mumbling about being close and she can feel your cunt tightening around the strap, she can't help but grab your face roughly again. "look at me when you cum." it's not a suggestion nor question, it's an order.

GOOFY, is she humorous in the moment? does she make jokes? during sex, vi is usually serious. she's not serious in a scary way that would make you rigid but she doesn't often bring in goofiness to the situation either, unless, of course, you'd asked her to. she wouldn't mind if you'd asked her for something more lighthearted but when vi has sex, her usual instincts take over. she becomes a much more serious person, her entire mind switching to one thing, pleasuring you. the whole point was to make sure you felt good and the last thing she wanted to do was make you insecure in any way. with that being said, she might murmur a couple things with a humorous chuckle. "yeah? you like that cupcake?" when she does something slightly out of your guys' normality. but of course, she knows you like it by the way your back is arching and moans fall freely. but she can't help it but tease.

HAIR, how is she groomed? does the carpet match the drapes? i'd imagine that vi shaves pretty regularly. something about being in prison for so long and not exactly having the option to. now, she has a sense of freedom about it and seeing as she can have longer showers and such i can imagine that she'd be in there for over an hour, shaving too. it also probably makes her feel a little cleaner after being in the prison (not that it's dirty not to shave some people just find it makes them feel cleaner afterwards) but when it comes to you, she really doesn't care. she'd probably prefer you to be a little shaved but i don't think she'd care to the extreme that you'd have to be bald or anything like that. she'd just prefer you to trim, at least, otherwise, you're good! as long as it's not too much.

INTIMACY, how is she in the moment through romantic aspect? vi prefers it intimate. even if she's degrading you, perhaps she's praising you, either way, she's worshipping your body completely. being in the prison, she's had so much meaningless sex that this is so important for her, you're important to her. and having sex is one of the most vulnerable things you can do. she wants not only you to be comfortable but herself to be too. she's not big on 'fucking around and getting it over with' not anymore, at least. with you, she likes to take things slow, even if it's teasing. but don't get me wrong, you can still take things slow to a intimate level and still make sure you're covered in bruises and looking up at her with big watery eyes. she supposes it's just the aspect of caring. there's a difference between degrading some random girl in the janitors closet than degrading you, her beautiful cupcake, even if she's calling you a pathetic slut. even her praises are laced with love, strangely enough.

JACK OFF, anything to do with masturbation vi doesn't masturbate a whole bunch. she's done it many times before, of course, as everyone has but she's not the biggest fan of it. she prefers to feel someone else. before, when she was in the prison, she could have any girl she wanted at her fingertips so she didn't need to. but now that it's just you and her, she has you in her clutch almost always. but of course, as every relationship, there are times when you guys can't be together. and if she's horny then, she has no problem trailing her hand down her own pants, rubbing one out to the thought of you. even if you're not there, you're still the only thing plaguing her mind. she'll think of your whimpers and moans while trying to keep her own at bay. her head stuck in your pillow.

KINK, a kink of hers don't get me wrong, you're one hundred and ten percent vi's pillow princess, she just loves having her fingers burried inside you and her mouth on your weeping cunt. she's just not always sweet about it. vi will edge you until you can't take it anymore. she loves the way she feels you clamping around her fingers, mumbling all needily about how you're close, so so close and it's as if one more pump of her fingers could do it for you. but before you finish, her hand is leaving your body, slapping down on your pussy gently before kissing your shoulders. she loves the way you cry out for her, tears filling your eyes and she has no problem mocking you afterwards. "awh, baby, were you close?" and you'll nod, all sniffly. all you needed was the sweet relief she'd promised you beforehand and yet it was the only thing she wasn't sticking to. it felt good, definitely, amazing even but you just needed to reach the edge and she was denying you of that. "poor thing." she'll push her hand down again, pleasuring and pleasing you until you're seeing stars. and just as you're ready to cum once more, that familiar knot inside your stomach, her hands leave you again. "stop whining." she'll murmur, slapping your cunt again. "or else you won't cum at all."

LOCATION, where is her favourite place to do it vi prefers your bedroom. you have a big upcity house in piltover so the girl could live in your bed if she wanted. it was surely big enough. and with your massive house, walls so thick, she didn't have to worry about anyone hearing you both. there's a difference between you and the other girls she was with, she wanted to take her time with you, make sure you were as comfortable as she would so she could touch you in all the places that she wanted to. vi thought that being comfortable was important and for her, she didn't think she'd be so comfortable doing the things she wanted to you in a public bathroom or a friends house. she loves having you in your bed, the scent of you filling the room, everything was so unique and fit to your personality. she loves being surrounded by your sheets when you finish or having your music player in the corner of the room, one of your favourite songs a low murmur as you whimper and whine into her shoulder, trying to keep your noises down but as always, she didn't like that. "don't do that, wanna hear you." because you had the power to be as loud as you pleased seeing as you were home and comfortable.

MOTIVATION, what turns her on and gets her going vi isn't someone that would get mega turned on easily although it's seemingly always in the back of her head to try and turn you on. she's done it so much that she now does it subconsciously. she doesn't mean to talk to you in that tone at the worst possible moments but when she does, she can see it on your face what she's done. that is what gets her going. she loves when you suddenly get all flustered, a little bashful, especially in front of people. perhaps you're trying to talk to cait when she puts a hand around your waist, touching you a little too much for it to mean nothing. she loves seeing the way your cheeks heat up and you suddenly stumble on your words. she just loves putting you into your place, watching you get all subby and dumb for her so quickly. the way you'll look at her to finish your words for you, or stand a little closer, almost behind her. she loves the way you lean on her mentally, making it seem as though you were incapable of doing anything without the help of your vi. then, at least, everyone would be able to grasp the fact that you were off limits.

NO, something she wouldn't do, turn offs pick this as you please, there's no kink shaming on this blog ! 🩷

ORAL, preference in giving or receiving, skill, ect vi's a giver. and she's good at what she does. she knows this, you know this, it appears as though everyone does. and this makes her awfully confident. she loves having her strong bisep holding down your hips as she licks you out, lapping you up like a dog without any shame. she loves the sound of squelching that you both unintentionally make and she relishes in it. she watches your back arch off the bed and smirks against you, her tongue embedding itself in your hole. however, if you did want to give, she wouldn't exactly have a problem with it. she'd have you lying on your back, looking up at her through your lashes as she sits herself on your face. "look so pretty under me." she'll murmur as she gets herself off on your face, her hips rolling as you did everything in your power to make her feel good, licking and lapping at her with your little kitten licks. she was so good to you, it was only fair that you gave her the same feeling back in return.

PACE, is she fast, slow, stamina, ect vi has stamina like you've never seen before. when she has her strap embedded deep inside you, it's like she can't stop. she's rough with her hands grasping your hips and thighs, squeezing the plush as she fucks herself into you over and over. vi loves edging as we know, but the night usually ends with overstimulation. and between both that and the roughness or her hands on your body, you're so fucked out and subby by the end of it that you're practically putty in her hands. vi can go many rounds all while holding her fast pace without so much of a stutter of her hips, she can withstand much more than you can with her high stamina so if you're willing to let her, she'll use you like her little toy for as long as she pleases once you're fucked out and crying into the mattress. 

QUICKIES, her opinion on them? how often? ect not the biggest fan. don't get me wrong, of course you turn vi on. sometimes, she's sitting in a restaurant with her legs folded over themselves, squeezing them together as she tries to stop thinking about it. she fails, of course. every little thing that you do, looking at her with your doe eyes, your bottom lip between your teeth, even your grabby hands at her biceps, you make her go crazy sometimes. but as badly as she wants to bend you over the bathroom counter and take you then and there, she won't. this way, she won't get to spend all her time using you, won't get to take her time when dragging your panties down your legs or edging then overstimulating you until you can't walk. but that doesn't mean she won't tease. and boy, does this girl love to tease. she'll put her hands all over your body, squeezing at your thigh or pushing them around your waist. she speaks to you in the very tone that has your face hot as rocks and whispers things in your ear. but she won't take you then and there. she'll wait, until she thinks the time is right. then, she'll make a steady exit with you in her arms, bringing you right on home. as soon as you reach home, she's making her move. and as you moan with your eyes rolled back as her hand reaches your puffy clit, she can't help but grin. "this what you wanted, hm? got you all pent up, huh? so mean." she'll mutter, ready to finally put you where she wants you.

RISK, is she game to experiment? does she take risks? usually, vi isn't one to take risks, she likes having you inside your big bedroom, everything so you as she fucks the stars out of your head. with that being said, you did still live with your parents. and sure, your walls were thick enough but sometimes, just sometimes, there may be a couple... complications. if vi is fucking you, she's not stopping. it's her rule. so, if your mother is at the door, twisting the knob and asking why your door is locked, you're trying to respond in the steadiest voice you can. "'m j-jus'- nngh- exercising, mom!" worst excuse ever but it's all you could come up with as her fingers are stuffed in your hole. "are you alright?" she'll ask hearing the noise you'd tried to keep at bay. you mentally cursed yourself. "think i-i hurt my leg, 'm fine!" she'd ask if you needed help to which you'd instant tell her no. with a strange expression, she'd walk away from your door. "such a peculiar child." or, if someone was calling you, you'd ignore it. vi though, she'd always answer her phone, no matter the situation. "yes?" her voice wil ring through the phone, despite the fact that her fingers are still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. when the person at the other side of the phone would ask what the sound was at one of your particular whimpers, vi would smirk. "i got a dog." she'd almost laugh. "a dog?" they'd question, in confusion. "yeah, a cute little bitch." you though, were too fucked out to care.

STAMINA, how many rounds can she go for? how long does she last? like i said before, you'd never met someone with the stamina that vi had. it was truly unearthly, you thought it was slightly concerning, actually. vi threw you around like a rag dog, her big arms allowing her to do so as she fucked her strap into you, strings of curses and moans falling from her lips. it would get to the part of the night where you're just too fucked out to even say anything, babbling though you were sure they weren't even real words, the only thing you could say was one particularly short word, vi's name. it was exactly how vi wanted it, she wished for the only thing to be running through your head to be her and that pretty pink strap in your hole. vi can last long too, it's almost incredible how she can fuck at least two orgasms out of you before cumming herself. however, when she does eventually finish, she likes to make sure that you're right on the edge too so you can do it together, there's something so intimate about having her hands enveloping yours, both of you seeing nothing but white at the exact same time, your climax enveloping you.

TOYS, does she own toys? does she use them? nothing is better than coming home and having you either bouncing on her cock or laying down as she pumped it into you, getting rid of every nerve in her body. though, as much as vi adored her strap, she'd be lying if she said it were her favourite thing to use on you. vi own's a vibrator and boy does she put it to good use. she doesn't care how you take it but if that vibrator is on your clit, she's going insane. it's one of the ones with the big wand so she'll force your legs up, holding it down to your clit and cooing as your back arches. "awh, feels good, sweets?" and you'll barely be able to respond, so wrapped up in your own thoughts and pleasure as the wand vibrates against you, sending shocks through your entire body. or perhaps she's using it on you both. she's done it before where she's hovered over you, rubbing her clit against yours and just before she gets close, she decides to add a little more fun to the mix. she'll place the vibrator between you two, watching as your clit is vibrated against it, her own doing the same as she holds back her noises, her juices mixing with your own. her favourite thing about scissoring is how messy it gets so when she's given the option to put a vibrator between you two, knowing it'll only get impossibly messier, she can't not take the opportunity.

UNFAIR, how much does she like to tease? sometimes it seems as though vi knows you better than anyone else in the world, she likes to throw this around every now and then. like when your eyes flutter closed and your hole tightens against her fingers. she knows you so well, she knows that face and those strings of moans. "you close, baby?" she'll murmur against you and when you nod with a whimper, she'll take her fingers straight out of you, tongue coming down to lick the juices from it. you'll whine at the sudden loss of contact, feeling cold and empty without her long fingers to fill you up. but when she asks what's wrong, you simply can't speak, all nervous and hot. she loves this side of you and uses it to her advantage multiple times. she likes when you're shy, but she makes sure you know it won't slide with her. "what is it you want, sweetheart? gotta say it or else you won't get it." but when you're merely whining, her hand will come down to press a slap on the outer fat of your thigh. "you have words." she'll remind you while grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at her even through your glossy eyes. "use them." and when you do, you get your way as promised. as soon as you're babbling out the words about needing her fingers, her mouth, her strap, whatever it is you desire in that moment, she's pressing little kisses onto your skin. "see? wasn't so hard was it, pretty girl?"

VOLUME, how loud is she? what sounds does she make? whimpers. what? she can't help it. poor girl just wants to please you by slamming her 'cock' into your cunt over and over, repeatedly hitting exactly where you need it. but the way the base of the strap hits against her so good, she can't help the whimpers that fall from her mouth. "hmmph, cupcake, y'feel so good." she'll mumble, too fucked out to degrade you. that's when you know it's gotten her, when you know she's close. when she's too wrapped up in her own mind, dizzy and seeing stars. she's not able to get the words out to call you her filthy slut so instead, the words tumbling out of her mouth are like praises, sweet nothings even. and when she knows you're getting close too, her mouth is like a waterfall that simply refuses to stop. she'll utter and mumble things to keep herself grounded, trying to focus the attention on you and not her flaming cheeks. "so g-good f'me, angel, always so good- huuh~" trying to utter the words before being stopped with a gasp, one that shows she's just as close as you are. the spurting feeling follows soon after.

WILD CARD, random head cannon talking about herself in third person is something vi often does. whether she's alone, telling herself that everything will be fine she just has to fix it or she has you wrapped around her little finger, loving the sounds you make. your head will be looking down to her own face, sitting between your thighs, eyes trailing over the tattoo on her cheek. you'll be a whining mess, just wanting her to touch you so you can get your sweet release. her biceps will pin you down, holding you against the bed. "shh, baby, vi will make you feel good." talking about herself as if she isn't in her own body. though you have to be honest, she did hold that promise up as her head dipped further between your thighs, tongue flat against your clit and tasting you. or perhaps she has your face in the mattress, your ass up in the air as her strap fucks into you. you're whining as you squirt again and she just cant get enough of the juices flowing out of you. but you? you're mumbling and babbling incoherently about how you're making a mess. you'll be so worried about the juices falling all over your sheets and now it's getting so messy that you can't think of anything else. vi, though, to soothe your worries, merely fucks the strap so deep inside you that you can't think of anything other than her, soothing down the skin of your hips. "shh, sweetheart, vi'll clean up the mess either." reassuring you like the sweet girl she is.

X-RAY, what's going on underneath them clothes? a bright pink strap. she loves the strap as it goes with her outfits, and her hair and everything else belonging to you. she loves having you bounce on it, whining about how you can't take it anymore but vi won't let you get out that easily. she's telling you to keep going or if she can truly see the exhaustion in your eyes, her hands are finding way to your hips, bouncing you up and down so you don't have to do any of the work. the last thing she needs is her princess getting too tired before she can finish with her. you also go slightly feral over her boobs. perhaps she's laying on her side, your legs propped up with rope she's bound against your body and you're just writhing. she has the vibrator sat pretty against your puffy clit. you're whining and whimpering, not able to keep still and before you know it, your lips are on her boobs. she's trying to contain her sounds, trying to hold the vibrator upright while your tongue swirls around her nipples. you can't get enough, just needing your mouth on something and the way her boobs feel snug between your lips, your warm drool falling all over the milky skin. you just can't contain yourself as you feel yourself approaching yet another orgasm. but this time, vi's too focused on the way your lips feel against her boobs to have any power left in her to tell you not to come.

YEARNING, how high is her sex drive? sometimes, vi can't take the way you are around her. especially in public. the way you're grabbing at her or standing close yet a little behind her when interacting with other people. she just loves it so much that she's sure she could dick you down then and there. but, as said before, she lets the tension build up until you both break. but that doesn't mean she doesn't get horny quickly. my god, this girl cannot for the life of herself go through one day without feeling a wet splotch form in her boxers. then, she blames you. perhaps it was because you'd bent over once to pick something up or you had your hands behind your back and she'd imagined tying them that way. you'd always just stare up at her and ask her when she'd take accountability for merely being horny. she'd shrug her shoulders, telling you never. and you'd believe it.

ZZZ, how quickly does she fall asleep afterwards? vi just has unlimited energy, it seems. when you guys are finished, she wants to make sure that you know you're safe, at home, with her. the sheets will be slightly messy but oh well, that's a tomorrow problem. Her main goal is to make sure you're okay. she'll place the wet rag where you need it, washing you off with the energy that she still has. then, you finally find yourself in her arms, her skin hot against your skin but thankfully the cold sheets offer a little relief. vi will talk to you while she's still awake, about anything and everything. just because she knows you like falling asleep to the sound of her voice and god knows she has enough energy to keep talking. "really?" you'll babble, all tired as your eyes are screwed shut. she's telling you random facts and stories that you've probably already heard before. yet every time, you seemed more impressed. "really, baby." and she'll only stop talking when she asks if you're still listening and receives no response. she knows you're sleeping so she tries to stay as still as she can while playing with your hair strands between her fingers, smiling softly at how good you were for her. she still has energy so she'll lay awake for a while but she won't leave, fearing you'll wake up and she wont be there. she wants you to know that she will be there, always. 

main masterlist/vi's masterlist

#queer #lesbian #gay #bisexual #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi x you #vi arcane x you #vi x y/n #vi arcane x y/n #vi imagine #vi arcane imagine #vi drabbe #vi oneshot #vi smut #vi fluff #vi angst #vi arcane drabble #vi arcane oneshot #vi arcane smut #vi arcane fluff #vi arcane angst #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane imagine #arcane fluff

[people-wxtching]

Yeah, I know many people have talked about this already but I need to say it as well before I explode.

I love visually seeing how the campers are all age accurately cast. In the books, it didn't hit me as hard because it was something I read when I myself was around 12. Even upon rereading I just go back to my 12-year-old body and the age is just this textual evidence that I KNOW exists but it doesn't truly impact me as much as it really should.

With this still, though, it's clearly visible how young all of them are. And it's scary. It's just the teaser trailer and it's already scary to think just how tiny and innocent they are, and how many hardships they have to go through at such a tender age.

But the scariest part about the scary part?

The youngest campers. That little girl (sorry for the bad quality) who's sitting right behind the girl with glasses looks around 7-8 at most. She's so small, so tiny, and yet she's at a camp where she has to learn how to survive and fight off monsters 100 times her size.

And the essence of all this is exactly what the movies failed to capture. The movies had a mostly adult cast, with zero ideas of what they were doing with the plot and characterization that could make the movies as impactful as the books, and focused a little too much on getting their Percabeth ship going, with absolutely no buildup of trust or slowly falling for each other or anything.

But with this show, I'm sure it'll be a lot more emotional and real because while it is sad that they're all just little kids, it's also a reflection of reality. Not every kid has a wonderful life; we all have to fight our own monsters no matter how young we may be, because life doesn't wait to see how old you are to throw problems at you. It doesn't have an age limit for trauma and hardships. The younger you are, the harder it impacts your life, and them being this small has a much more impactful meaning to it than watching almost adults go through the same problems that often get solved in an underwhelming manner.

#this post was originally just going to be me yelling that that one little girl looks 8 #but it turned into an entire rant anyway #also yes i see all of you writing essays in the tags and i love all of you thank you for the input! you guys are all so smart #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo disney + #pjo adaptation #annabeth pjo #percy pjo #pjato #pjo disney+ #pjo movies #pjo series #pjo show #pjo tv #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #pjo tv show #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #dior goodjohn

[yandere-sins]

Crisis Averted - Part I [Genshin Spoilers 4.1.]

New Genshin Updates always make my thoughts go brrrr. So here's a little something (with modified happenings to fit the story lol) of Wriothesley after he survived the encounter with the Primordial Sea!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Wriothesley x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Topics of death (Fear of death, Near-death experiences, Fear of loved ones dying), Reader got locked into a closet, Forced Relationship, Dub-Con touches, Long post

Heavy were his steps as he finally made his way back to his office. 

The stairs seemed to drag on endlessly after exerting more energy in a matter of minutes than Wriothesley had done in months—actually, years. He couldn't even remember when he last needed to drain his vision for just one more blast of ice and then one more. Luckily, Clorinde was neither a talkative fellow nor in much better shape than he was after they both struggled to hold back the Primordial Sea from escaping. They were both tough and hard to take down in a fight, but even they had their bodily limits.

She left him on the floor beneath his office with a short nod, a few words exchanged out of courtesy and thankfulness. Then she was gone, and Wriothesley's heavy boots continued their ascend, disregarding any weariness in his bones and the burning of his muscles. In a way, the Primordial Water was a prisoner of this place, and Wriothesley chuckled at his own thoughts as he came to this conclusion, exhaustion making everything sound a bit more funny in his head. However, despite knowing that the crisis was averted and the seemingly inescapable destruction and ruin had been contained like an unwilling prisoner of the Fortress of Meropide, he didn't feel like he had succeeded in keeping death away from what he treasured.

Muffling the yawn ripping from his throat, how could he not be elated by the thought of returning to you, the feeling giving him back the pep in his step? Even after all that happened—and Wriothesley had thought of many, many ways this could have ended—you were both still here. Alive. 

Unless the ice had frozen you to the core by the time he reached you.

He skipped the last two steps with a jump to avoid this possibility, generating enough energy to jog from the staircase to the closet. Noticing the glistening ice still enveloping the doorknobs, Wriothesley let out a breath of relief before quickly grabbing them, unbothered by the frozen sting ramming into his hands. Not even his body heat would be enough to melt the ice, but he'd be damned if he let his own safety measures keep him from you. 

Bracing his body against one of the doors, Wriothesley made sure to keep the closet standing upright while he pried the other one open. More strength was needed to loosen the ice that had seeped into every crack, an airtight grave keeping him away from you. But even so, it would have been a better death than what the Primordial Sea would have done to you had they not been able to contain it. Wriothesley forced himself to avoid the thoughts of the pain and agony the water would have caused you, the idea of him suffering such a fate enough to rampage his skin with goosebumps. He had put you into an awful position, but at that moment, he had believed it to be more merciful than being dissolved and drowned in the water.

Jerking the door again, he could hear the ice cracking, more relief washing over him. Relief that it would have succeeded in protecting you until the worst was over, and even more relief that it was giving way now, returning you to him. Surely, you must have already been panicking with the cold raking at you and the slow loss of air. He'd have to apologize later for putting you into this position, wipe your tears if necessary, and get someone to smuggle some cake into the Fortress as a well-done treat. But all he wanted to do now was to have you back in his arms. Everything else was a worry for later, like the Primordial Sea threatening to destroy all life around Fontaine.

One more ice-breaking tug and the door finally gave away, revealing a trembling, miserable person. His trembling, miserable person. Your first instinct was to gasp for air, the few minutes locked away having taken its toll on you. You were coughing and gasping, clawing towards the light, more than ready to exit your makeshift coffin. Wriothesley caught you before you fell, your eyes unaccustomed to the brightness after spending so much time in the dark, and he sat you upright again, helping you out of the blanket he had wrapped around you in a hurry when the commotion started. 

More than any ice, your body had cooled down significantly, and other than when he touched the frozen doorknobs, Wriothesley noticed the temperature of your skin even through your clothes. It pained him, yet, it had been necessary. Pulling his trusty coat off his shoulders, he slung it around your violently shivering form, closing the front tightly so the fur collar would warm your cheeks and ears. There was no way he'd let you walk on legs that were fragile from the cold, and he never planned to let you go anywhere on your own in the first place. 

Strong arms wrapped around your body, now engulfed in his coat. His scent was so prevalent, even when it mixed with yours. Wriothesley appreciated how well they worked together. Had scent been enough to mark you as his, he might not have had to do so many things to keep you by his side. You two could have lived pretty normal lives if all it needed was him rubbing off on you, but alas, normalcy wasn't something he had ever been blessed with. Given that there was a very real chance of him dying from being submerged in Primordial Water, not even his death would be able to be claimed as normal. But neither would yours.

But not today. Neither of you died that day, and Wriothesley thanked whatever godly entity he had to thank for that. Even just having the chance to hold you once more was enough to convince him that everything would be okay. At least for now. For one more day. Lifting you out of the closet, he held you, unmoving. Your arms wormed out, desperately holding on to him as if for your dear life, his warmth seeping onto you. Wriothesley felt your nails rake over his chest, panic driving you closer to him. Every shiver, every squirm through the thick material of his coat, and every sob ripping out of your throat, broke his heart more than you'd ever know. 

"Why did you do that?" you asked, your voice so full of hurt and accusation, yet you pressed yourself harder against him, teeth chattering. For all you knew, you two had been drinking tea (albeit reluctantly on your part) when the alarms suddenly began to blare around you, and Wriothesley shoved you into the closet as if he was punishing you.

"I had to," he mumbled back, his words muffled by the fabric, his arms restricting tighter around your body.

"I could have died! It was so hard to breathe! And the cold… the cold…”

More sobs tore out of you, and Wriothesley closed his eyes, knowing he had to endure the blame your shaky, fragile voice rightfully accused him of. You were right, but would you understand? Could you understand that he'd rather allow you to die peacefully and whole than go through the same agony he'd be in at the same time? Wriothesley had laid awake countless nights thinking of the what ifs and what to do if push came to shove, only to still be unprepared and get run over by the events, wrapping you in a blanket and kissing your head before forcing you into a closet and sealing it shut. Your safety, or at least heightened chances of survival, were the only things he could think of at that moment, you being the only component in his plan that could make him panic.

But now you were crying in his arms, the fear of everything—the unknown, the darkness, death—spilling out of you. He wished he could have prevented it, but now he knew that the truth would only make it worse for you. If he told you what was happening, you'd react like most prisoners here would, and he couldn't guilt you. Not telling you and keeping you in the dark, doing whatever he had to do, regardless of the feelings, was the only way to keep you safe. Wriothesley was the only one to protect you from a fate much worse than what awaited him if he failed. But now that the danger had been averted, the least he could do was hold you.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing your back through the fabric, hoping to give you the comfort he needed almost as much himself. But other than you, he could only dream of being comforted by the person he loved. And even those dreams seemed unrealistic. Worse days awaited you two, your and his fate sealed together with that of the rest of Fontaine. But not now. Now wasn't the time for tears and worries, and if he hadn't been so damn exhausted—with you in his arms doubly, warm and soft—he would have celebrated your survival more. Soon, you'd come to your senses, fighting him again, and this time, he wouldn't stop you. He couldn't. 

So he'd use what little time he had to enjoy this moment. Walking over to his chair, you graciously let him carry you, allowing him this little, intimate gesture of holding you in his arms all throughout the short journey. Even though he sat down abruptly, knees giving out from under him, your body landed softly, enveloped in his while he let out a strained grunt. The feeling of gravity pressing you into him was one he would have liked to treasure for the next few days, and if it had been up to him, you two would have been cooped up for just as long. But beneath his calloused hands, he could feel your body warming up, your breath no longer icy when it brushed his neck and cheeks.

The fight hadn't taken too long, evident by you still being alive, and yet it felt like he'd been gone for weeks, maybe months. Years of absence that made him miss the feeling of your body and the sound of your voice. His mind should have been on the enemy he was fighting, and yet, his only concern had been you. Getting back to you and not dying without seeing you one more time was everything he thought of as he pushed another punch of eyes to that gate that kept the Primordial Sea contained. You gave him the strength to keep going, if only to give you a chance of survival and to not die in pain like anyone else who'd get into contact with the Primordial Sea. To not give up until Neuvillette showed up, releasing him from this duty to society so he could return to the duty of loving you. 

It had been a lot, but when he raised a tired hand to push some of the fur out of your face, witnessing the tears having stopped and the warmth returned to your cheek, it had all been worth it. Wriothesley had to make progress on the project he kept hidden from everyone to ensure that you'd be protected from all the dangers surrounding him. If anyone, then at least you. So even if he couldn't push this tired body of his to do it that day, he knew that from the moment he'd open his eyes after a nap, he'd be back to working on it tirelessly. 

"This face," he sighed, cupping your cheek and snorting softly at the pout crossing your features. Tracing the bridge of your nose, he hummed, satisfied that everything was still right where it belonged and had not fallen off from the cold. 

"These lips," he mused, brushing his thumb over the soft cushions he dreamed about kissing every night. 

"And these eyes." 

His words made your gaze rise to his, beautiful jewels in the moody, damp lighting of his office, glistening from the tears yet raging like the sea in a storm defying his adoring stare. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. If you had to hate him, then hate him. Despise him, he'd deal with it. Wanted to hurt him, he'd let you. Love him… A man could dream. But seeing a storm of emotions was better than the faded light of death you had when he pulled you out of the closet. That was something he wished to never see again. That he'd fight and strife for to never appear on your face again.

"Don't," he chuckled, grin splitting his lips as he pinched your cheek in a loving reprimand after noticing how you wanted to start arguing. Wriothesley couldn't help but laugh out loud when you let out the most adorable grunt in annoyance, squirming on his lap until you could hide your cheeks into the fur again, away from his touch. He settled for the nape of your neck, holding you there gently and noticing in the back of his head how long your hair had grown since you came to the fortress as he brushed his hand through it.

You glared at him defiantly from the safety of his coat, and Wriothesley couldn't imagine a better place or better look for you. "That's what I'm fighting for," he mumbled, pushing his strained muscles to move so he could kiss your forehead. "It's all worth it as long as I can hold you like this. Just a little longer, alright? I'll get you something nice in return."

Wriothesley wasn't someone who begged, not even for your attention. He'd take it and have it as he pleased, but in that moment, he worried he'd lose you if he let you go—for real this time. The uncertainty and inability to tell you what was happening, left a cold, dark hole inside him, wrenching his gut and bursting his heart with regret. All he had to soothe the pain it caused him was to hold you and feel your soft heartbeat through the layers of clothes around you two. 

It relieved him to know you were safe. He was safe. You both were okay, but mostly you. He never told you that if there was a way to save your life in exchange for his, he'd do it, no question asked. But it was a weird topic to bring up, especially when you considered him to be a heartless, manipulative asshole who used his authority to take advantage of someone less fortunate. So he didn't. Like many things, he kept his thoughts to himself, hoping that, in some miraculous way, you'd come to understand one day. Maybe even like him. 

"I hate you," you reiterated, and Wriothesley managed another chuckle to hide how much that statement hurt him. He fully expected you to jump off his lap now, walk away from him and out of his office, choosing to spend your time wisely instead of indulging him. You were no longer shivering, your teeth calm, and your heartbeat even, and yet, you didn't budge. 

Turning your head to the side, you placed it on his chest, stilling on top of his heart, this small gesture enough to make it threaten to burst out of his ribcage. Maybe he underestimated you. Perhaps you did understand, at least vaguely, that whatever happened had been pretty bad for him. He'd take the pity if it came from you. Wriothesley could only hope you magically understood that whatever he did in his absence, he did it not to harm but to protect you. You never showed him any mercy with your opinions or actions, so this side of you could only be explained by assuming kindness and understanding from you. But whatever it was, he was grateful. So, so grateful. 

This was all he ever wanted: holding you, burying his face in your hair in a moment of vulnerability for him. Where he wasn't stronger, wasn't exuding authority over you. Forcing you to bend to his will. A moment where he could forget the world as all his senses tuned themselves on you. Everything was you, from the softness of your body to the smell surrounding him. Your heartbeat in his ears and his eyes closing as Wriothesley was comforted by your warmth. Even if you'd never appreciate what he was doing, this was enough reward for all the hardships he went through for you daily, but especially on this day. It reminded him of why he was working so hard, even though he never meant to fall in love with you this deeply. Your tiny bit of compliance would satisfy this overpowering need for you for a couple of days until he'd be back on his feet. 

Wriothesley wanted to say more. In fact, he wanted to tell you everything. But it wasn't the right time, nor did he have the strength. Your feelings changed nothing about his, every beat of his heart screaming, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

He was a little glad you didn't hear it. That would have been embarrassing. 

Grinning to himself, he could feel his conscience being pulled out from under him. His breaths even, despite the extra weight on his chest that he clung to desperately, his chair never feeling more comfortable than in that moment. He wished to stay awake for a little longer, muse about the fact that you were the best blanket he could wish for, feeling just so right. Sleeping while holding you like this would definitely improve his nights, as he wouldn't have to worry about where you were and who you were with. If you were safe or in the process of trying to do something stupid. But he'd take what he could get, even if it was just this one time of you not trying to tear out of his arms and run from him.

After all, this day could have ended very differently. But it didn't. 

He got to hold you again, the crisis averted so he could return to you. He had to be thankful for that, as his life would be worth nothing without you. And even waking up with you gone would be more pleasant than any thought about you dying far away from him. So he'd take this time to rest like he always had wanted, his beloved in his arms, his thoughts and dreams filled with you.

Trying not to be too greedy, now that he knew what it felt like not to lose you.

#Wriothesley #yandere!wriothesley #yandere wriothesley #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere!genshin impact #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[arielstruggles]

The Dawn of Regret

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem reader

Summary: You have a crush on Joel Miller and he becomes your patrol partner.

W.C: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut (mdni), P in V sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), Katoptronophilia, praise kink, slight dirty talk, breeding kink, big fat age gap (reader is 26 Joel is 56), angst.

A/N: Happy kinktober folks!. I love angst so i incorporate it in everything :| sorry. I honestly don't know if this will be a one shot or not, we will see. I'm sorry i'm not the best for descriptions. And if i have any grammar mistakes, sorry in advance i am not a native English speaker. Anyway, if anyone reads it, let me know your opinions, love you bye!

ch2 ch3

You and Joel have known each other for quite some time now. It has been roughly four months that him and Ellie decided to stay in Jackson, instead of trying to find the Fireflies. Since then, they were joining you at different tasks. Ellie was too young to join the patrols without a training but Joel, as a 56 years old, fearless man; he was the perfect fit. Well, obviously he was a mass murderer too but it was helpful in this situation. But other than that you were nothing to each other. Just a couple of “Hello”s and “How is it going”s  here and there. But you couldn’t help to feel attracted to him. Normally, you were teaming up with Maria and Joel was teaming up with Tommy but Tommy and Joel decided that they were "sick of each other" so Maria came up with the solution that you were supposed to team up with Joel. It caught you off guard. You were so used to went on patrols with Maria that you didn't know what to do exactly. Not that you were unable to protect yourself or anything. You were living in Jackson for more than two years now and before that you basically learned how to survive on your own. No, it was not a doubt that came from your skills, it was because of Joel.

You were a little bit, just a little bit intimidated by his presence. He was not a chatty, lively man. His brows were mostly furrowed, well he was grumpy to say the least. Not that he was rude or mean towards you. On the contrary he knew where to stand. So, he sort of knew when to be nice which was obviously not around you. But you were not sure if you were okay where he was standing, you wanted more. He was a handsome man, grumpy old man to be fair but it didn't take anything from his charm. His broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, the dimple on his cheek which is a shame that you could barely see since he was not laughing around you that much. He was big and strong. His hands, his fingers... The thought of it showed itself as dampness on your panties. You were feeling guilty for dreaming about him from time to time but in your defense, who would not? Gosh those Fingers. “What would happen if he wrapped them around my throat?" you thought, on the couch where you were lying at the moment. "What would happen if he kissed me, or better bite me?" you get so worked up that dipped your fingers inside your panties.

After you came imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of yours, a wave of warmth washes your whole body. You are feeling so guilty. You are about to go on a patrol with this man and you masturbated, in your couch, thinking of him. And you had no idea how he felt about you, you saw him flirting with women before in the Tipsy Bison however none of them were as young as you. They were mostly older than forty. You are in your mid-twenties. Also, you know the fact that he had a daughter which if she was alive would be older than you so this was both unethical and impossible. You shake your head due to your own stupid thoughts and realize that it' almost three a.m. that means Joel and you are about the meet in an hour. You fix your clothes and decide to make yourself a coffee, you have limited supply of coffees so even though you really love it you can't drink as much as you want to but tonight, or this morning to be precise, you need to.

While you sip your coffee with the shame on your shoulders you hear a knock on your door, you leave your mug on the table and walk towards the door. “Who is that?” you ask, even though the low and husky tone makes it clear that it is Joel, you are just trying to be careful. “It’s Joel. I was just checking you if you were awake.” To hide the reflection of that stupid grin on your voice, you clear your throat “Yes, I am.” You can’t help the heat that rises from your core. “Okay, be outside of your door in 30.” He says and you hear footsteps fading away. You realize you didn’t even open the door, let alone kindly inviting him but it was probably for the best. You still feel warm and fuzzy because of your Joel fantasies. You grab your coffee and sip the rest while thinking of him. 

Once you’re done with your coffee, you step outside of your door with you backpack on your back and gun in its holster, waiting for Joel. After a while his big figures approaches which makes you feel giddy. You curse under your breath for feeling like a high schooler who sees their crush. “Mornin’” he rasps, “morning” you say in return. “We’re heading towards east this time. Tommy claims. There are riders.” It is obvious by his tone that he mocks with his brother. You nod as a response to his explanation and you both start walking. You know, silence is better to search the area but it makes you so uneasy. You want to talk to him desperately. “So, why you and Tommy decided to not to be partners anymore?” you ask, your tone is louder than you expected. “You wanna get attention of clickers or sumthin?” he is not mad, it’s his usual grumpiness but still you feel ashamed. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “sorry.” You murmur, this time your tone is quiet. “He was being a pain in the ass, I’m sick of his bullshit.” He answers your question without looking at your face, you are grateful for that. You hum in return while you keep on walking. It’s still dark outside and cold. You wish you were in your warm bed. But the man who is walking right beside you seems so unbothered. He doesn’t care about the cold or how dark it is. It is as if he is living for the sake of living. You study his demeanor, trying to be sneaky. “Is there sumthin on my face?” “no, i- I’m sorry.” “well, you should focus on the road not me.” his tone is amused this time, not annoyed, not grumpy. You see a smile dancing around his lips, it is not a smile but it’s the best you got which sort of encourages you. “I can do both” “Aren’t you sumthin?” he chuckles, you made him smile.

That little conversation is all you need for you to have a crush on Joel. Not that you had not anything towards him but it was not a strong feeling whatsoever. But the moment you were able to make him smile. Well, it worsens the situation. For the rest of the road, you are mostly quiet. The sun is about to rise, the sky is turning into a lighter shade of blue. The birds chirping. It almost sounds peaceful. In the middle of an apocalypse. You can’t help but laugh audibly. Joel turns towards you with a questioning look on his face. “I was thinking how peaceful it felt. The sky seems so pretty, birds are chirp-“Joel covers your mouth with one of his hands and yanks you to a tree trunk which sends a shock to your body. While you try to grasp what is the reason behind this, he gestures with his other hand to be quiet. You nod in return and both of you listen carefully. You hear the clickers around. High pitched screams of a bunch of them fill the woods. It’s disturbing. You are grateful for it though, it distracts you from thinking how close your bodies are, how one of his hands is on your mouth. After he gives you the que you wait in silence, you kill them one by one. “Morning exercise I guess.” You say. “Yeah, right.” He replies grumpily and rolls his eyes. Here he is again, the Joel you are familiar with. It is saddening honestly. Witnessing a side of him which he only shows people whom he really cares and trusts, which you crave to be one.

You look at your pocket watch it reads 8.45. Morning sun shines through the sky, it is warmer than a couple of hours earlier. You still have more than three hours and frankly, after your last unsuccessful attempt to make him talk, you give up. Morning sun hits his face in a way that invigorates his handsome features. You want to reach his face and caress his cheeks, kiss tip of his nose. Of course, you can’t do any of that, how could you? You don’t even know him, he doesn’t even know you. It’s just your hormones talking, you assure yourself. “Cat got your tongue?” he questions your silence. “Huh?” “You seem lost in your thoughts. You were chatty earlier.” “I thought you would be annoyed if I talk too much.” “Yeah, you thought that right.” Well, he is honest at least. You don’t say anything back. He breaks the silence when you find an old shed. “I know this is safe, I’ve been there before you wanna rest a bit? Before heading back to Jackson?” even though staying in a small space with Joel for a couple of hours seems like not a good idea your feet hurt from all that walking and fighting with clickers was draining so you decide it’s for the best “Yeah, sure.” He opens the door and checks out the shed just in case then nudges his head for you to get inside. There is a mirror at the corner. It has cracks here and there and sort of rusty but you can see your reflection.

You sit on a moldy couch, it’s not the best thing to sit but at least better it is than floor. He sits right next to you, you are pretty close to each other. This surprises you but considering it is the only somewhat comfortable thing in this place it should not. The silence is too loud. You want to speak, to say something but you don’t know what to say. It’s as if you forgot how to talk, as if all the words in you have lost their meanings. The hand on your thigh jerks you awake from your thoughts. You look at his hand on your thigh then his eyes. He looks at you as if he is about to devour you. Even if you dreamt about this before, it feels different when he really touches you. You feel shy all of a sudden. “Darlin’ you thought I didn’t realize how you look at me?” his raspy tone sends shivers down on your spine. You want to give in and let him fuck you senseless but a part of you still wants to resist. You clearly have no idea how this thing is going to work or what he really wants. “What? You must be dreaming Joel.” You chuckle nervously. “I most certainly am not.” His hand moves up and up till your crotch but he doesn’t touch there yet. “Tell me darlin’” he leans on your ear, his breath tickles your neck, you’re sitting side by side but you want him on top of you. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop.” “Fine, okay. I want you.” you try not to sound so desperate but the last part of your sentence comes out as whining. “Atta girl, was that so hard?” he murmurs and cups your crotch through your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers, not yet. He leaves wet kisses all over your neck. You do something bold and climb on his thigh. His large hands find their places on your waist. You kiss him deeply. Your tongues dance with harmony. You get wetter with each passing second and press yourself on his thigh a little more. He moans into your mouth. “Naughty, naughty” a smirk spreads across his mouth. You grind on his thigh more and more; the tension is unbearable at this point. “Joel, do something!” you burrow your face in the crook of his neck “Do what darlin?” “Fuck me Joel.” Your voice comes muffled. You bite down on his neck. he cradles you and take you in front of the mirror which you saw earlier. You are confused. “What are you doing?” you ask him. “Just want you to see everything.”

You are standing before the mirror; Joel is pressed behind you. His cock is nestled between your ass cheeks. His movements are slow, you still have a couple of hours left and everywhere seemed clear so you can take your time. But you are so restless. He takes off your coat, then your shirt, then your bra. You’re half naked. Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You are as much eager as Joel. He cups your right tit. His calloused fingers brush your hardened nipple while he licks your neck. You gasp with the overwhelming feeling. You’re dripping cunt flutters against nothing. You want him inside. “Joel” you moan. He bites your shoulder in return. You both watch your reflections in the mirror. You take one of his hands that are on your waist and slide it into your panties, he takes the hint, an amused laugh leaves his lips but he does not want to tease you so he starts toying with your clit while leaving wet kisses all over your shoulders and neck. While his thumb circles around your clit and he dips his middle finger to your hole. “Aren’t you a slut, hm? Waiting for me to fuck this hole of yours?” You moan to the vulgarity of his words. He adds a second finger, hitting just the right spots. The overwhelming sensation takes over your whole body, you feel weak in the knees and rest your back against his chest more and more. At this point you look like a body with two heads. You feel your first orgasm is about to hit. “Joel ‘m close, I’m so close.” You coo, “let it go baby girl. You’re such a good girl for me, let it go darlin’” he whispers to your ear. You don’t even hesitate to ruin his fingers with your cum. He takes his fingers off of you and licks them. You see the reflection in the mirror. It feels so unholy. You feel as if a sinner, for letting a man who’s the same age as your father, if he was alive, to finger fuck you. “Now darling, I want more. I want to my cock in that sweet pussy of yours. I want to eat you out.” “Yes Joel, please.” Your voice sounds so needy that you cringe. “I want you to watch baby girl. Every second of it.”

He lays down his coat to the floor and then lays you down on it. Unbuttons your jeans and strips down the rest of your clothes. He starts kissing your neck and makes his way down while leaving kisses on your torso. His tongue finds his way on your clit, it moves with ease. You grip a fist full of his hair and press him against your pussy more. The warmth of his tongue mixed with the warmth of your pussy sends shock waves to your body. He eats you out with such ease and pleasantly. Your moans fill the old shed. Then Joel stops, “time to take my cock darling’” he coos and unbuttons his jeans. Cold air hits your glistening folds, makes you shiver. He takes off his jeans and boxers. His fat cock is up against his belly. Your mouth waters, you want to take it to your mouth. He catches your hungry eyes. “Next time darling’”. His tip shines with pre cum. He is hard as a rock. He checks on the mirror, to see your reflections, you do the same. You can’t name the feels in you at the moment because it feels nice. He leans on your body and aligns his cock with your entrance. “You ready?” you nod eagerly. It has been a while-3 years to be precise- since you last got laid and you don’t have that much experience but you want to hide this fact from Joel. Once he pushes himself inside you, you scream. Then you adjust to his size and he picks up his once slower pace. “So wet and tight for me. So pretty.” He mutters in your ear. “good girl, aren’t you a sweet girl for me, darlin’?” you nod, he grabs you by the throat, “Answer me!” his tone is demanding, his gaze is dark. “Yes, yes Joel” you answer but frankly, you don’t even know what was he saying. Your hips move in sync. He is close “Where do you want me to come, darling?” “Inside” you say. You come together.  He fills you up. After you’re both done, he lays on you. You wrap your arms around his torso. It feels so intimate. You have so many questions you want to ask. But you don’t know how he will respond. You clearly have a crush on him but you are not sure if he feels something towards you or if it was just a bodily pleasure. You decide to wait for him to take the first step.

You lay there for almost half an hour. Then he speaks “It’s almost 11 a.m., we better get going.” You can’t tell if he sounds distant or not. He helps you to get up and you wear your clothes and he does the same. You leave the shed and head towards Jackson. He does not talk; you don’t want to talk as well. But you have more than two hours of walking distance so after a while you are so bored of silence and curiosity eats you alive. “what’s gonna happen now?” you ask expecting for him to say something positive. “Nothing.” he almost barks. You are stunned by the tone of his. “Oh?” is all you can say. “Look, it was a mistake, I shouldn’t be so reckless. You forget what happened, I’ll do the same.” It hurts you. He is so blunt and there is no emotion behind his words. You feel so stupid for even thinking this could have led to something. You feel tears sting to your eyes but try to hold them back. You have no intention to feel smaller in front of this monster of a man. You are unsuccessful though. He hears you sniffing, does not look at you. He does not want to feel more guiltier than this. “Now, don’t cry on me.” he wants to sound harsh; he wants you to hate him so that you will never like him. It does not help. He wants you to be safe and being closer to him is not the safest option.

You can see Jackson, you’re close. That means you can go to your home and cry for hours. Your sadness leaves its place to anger. “You know, you are a disgusting man. You gave me hope and now you’re leaving me like this.” You know that is not the truth but you want to hurt him. “You are right about that. But I didn’t think you could be this naïve to fall for me.” “You deserve to die alone! If your daughter knew all this, she would’ve hated you.” You can see the burning flame in his eyes. For a second you think he will smack you across your face but he does not instead he grabs your arm tightly. “Just because we fucked does not mean you are something to me. You are clearly desperate for attention. You want someone to love you. But that ain’t me. You’re nobody.” He leaves your arm and walks towards his home. You stand there like a fool you tried to hurt him but he did it. You start to walk as well, Maria approaches you. “So, how was your patrol? You seem pale.” “It was okay, a couple of clickers, nothing unusual.” Your voice cracks, she looks at you worriedly. “please, I don’t want to talk.” You explain and she nods. You open your door and enter your house. The moment the door shut closed you start crying.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #kinktober #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #fanfic #joel miller angst

[celebtf]

Mysterio's new Trip

As Mysterio tumbled through the air, his mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, and frustration mixed together as he fell towards the unforgiving ground below. His grand plans had crumbled beneath him, shattered by the relentless determination of Spider-Man.

As Mysterio fell down in to the water, everything went black and the cold water hit him from the back, he let out a big grunt. It was so cold, it was really freezing. Mysterio thought to himself that if he survived this he would seek his revange on The Avengers. Mostly Spiderman, it was Spiderman that had ruined everything for him. Mysterio had the money, the fame, everything, even the girls and boys after him and that stupid kid had to ruin everything.

Mysterio could feel himself lifting up from the water and over the city, he could feel the coldness from the wind brushing against his wet cold skin.

" Hey, wake up, hello " Mysterio felt a kick, he was alive. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a man standing over him. The man was tall and not the most muscular man but probably could hit hard, the man was dressed in green, alot of green and had long black hair, in his and he was holding something that probably could be used as a weapon.

" So you're finally awake, thank god, I didn't know what I would do otherwise, throw you out in space " Mysterio didn't notice that he weren't on earth.

" Loki " Mysterio rolled his eyes when he saw that Loki was the one that had saved him. " Happy to see you too" Loki just laughed and started to walk around in the room.

" I saw you crash into the water, I did you a favour, atleast give me a thank you " Mysterio countined to roll his eyes. " So I heard you wanted to take down The Avengers, I can help you with that, but I need a favour back Ofcourse "

Mysterio was sceptical and started to think to himself, how could Loki help him?

" Ah, Mysterio, my dear friend. I require your unique talents for a little scheme of mine." Old friend? Mysterio looked at Loki with a stare.

Loki took his staff and started to swing it in the room the same time as he startes to chant something. A green haze started to full up the room, and Mysterio started to lose sign of Loki.

Mysterio felt a crack in his back and fell down on the ground. His legs started to grow muscles and and his boots started to torn up and his feets bust out. Mysterio's thighs started to grow to, a lot and his stomach formed a new set of abs, a hard and better sixpack, Mysterio was in shock and fasinated over this change, his ass got fuller too, it became big and bubbly. Mysterio's new arms started go get muscular and big and he started to feel his jaw get sharpened, his cheekbones got rounder and his eyes started to sting, his Hair came undone and started to bleach.

" Loki.. what are you doing to me "

" Let's get your new uniform.. Captain "

Loki showed me my new reflection, and I have to admit.. I looked good. I was so strong and handsome and tall, I was till before but now I'm even taller.

" So I can see that you like it, Captian " Loki looked at me and I smiled and told him him how much I liked it and that I was very greatful.

So what's the plan Loki, how am I going to take down The Avengers? I was walking around Loki's places to test the limits in Captains body.

" Leave that up to me, just follow and we will get what we want"

Suddenly I was the Green smoke again and Loki was gone.

" Thor and Captian.. I mean you and me are going to be good partners "

#celebrity tf #body swap #celebtf #transformation #gay #male body suit #malebody swap #male shapeshift #body switch #marvel #Thor #steve rogers #captain america #the avengers #character transformation

[sserpente]

Happy Ending

Synopsis: Out of all people you could have been assigned to for your lifeguard training, it had to be Billy Hargrove. You hate the guts out of his cocky and flirty demeanour and during your lessons, Billy has no mercy and it shows—muscle cramps torment your entire body after another intense training session, and (un)fortunately, Billy takes notice and offers to give you a massage. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Request from anon. You asked, I delivered! But hear me out… what if he gave RC a seductive massage beforehand? ;-)

Words: 2654 Warnings: pure, shameless, and filthy smut

“Ugh…” You groaned, rolling your shoulders. Your lifeguard training was killing you. You’d be as stiff as a piece of log by the time you’d made it through the final exam. That’s how you’d end up saving drowning folk. They’d just use you like a piece of wood.

But you were determined to push through, if anything to prove a point. Billy Hargrove aka the pain of your existence, was pushing you to your fucking limits. Out of all people you could have been assigned to… well, technically, it had been a fifty-fifty chance. But boy, would you have preferred Heather over him.

Billy was a cliché on two legs. A cocky boy from California with abs, a womanizer, and a classic jock—not to mention he preferred to resolve disputes with his fists. You knew what he stood for and what his intentions were with the women he wooed and you hated yourself for being insanely attracted to him. Nothing good would come out of giving in to his recurring flirting attempts. He knew exactly what he was doing—knew about the effect he had on women and he was bathing in it. His ego was too big for his head, that was for sure; and the fact that during your lifeguard lessons, Billy repeatedly had his hands all over your half-naked body didn’t exactly make things easier for you.

You groaned once more, attempting to stretch a little. You had absolutely no idea how you had survived the past hour.

“You okay?” Billy came walking into the changing rooms, still wearing nothing more than his red swimming trunks. He was chewing on gum, a sly smirk playing on his lips when he noticed your struggles. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah… just tense. Muscles cramps.”

“I wasn’t going too… hard on you, was I?” He asked, playfulness playing in his voice. Damn him.

“No… I’m just not used to excessive workouts every day.” You realised your mistake, or rather, your poor word choice, the moment he started grinning.

“Oh, you’re not?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop it already. I hate you, remember?”

“I can help you, you know,” he said, unimpressed by my complaint and clearly still amused.

Raising your eyebrows, you glared him down suspiciously. “Oh yeah?”

Billy nodded. “I know a few… massage techniques.”

Your eyes widened and you took, no, jumped a step back.

“Absolutely not!” Billy’s hands slowly gliding all over your body, kneading away the knots? That… that sounded horrifying, it sounded… really hot. Which was why you could, under no circumstances, agree to it.

“Come on… Are you scared it could be… good?” He leaned in close and you cursed internally. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of, for Fuck’s sake.

“No. I just… I don’t need you of all people to massage me, Billy. If I need to release some tension, I’ll go to a professional.” You winced, again slapping yourself mentally for your poor word choice. Billy chuckled.

“Follow me.”

You didn’t know why but you did. Billy led you to the lifeguard office in the back of the building. There wasn’t much in here—just some equipment, first aid kits, a surprisingly neat desk, and a low treatment table for injured pool guests.

“Lie down, stomach down.” He pointed at the treatment table. You hesitated. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. So why the fuck did you move toward it and did as you were told?

“Is it just your shoulders and your back?” Billy went to grab something from the sink area—you could only assume it was some sort of massage oil. You doubted this was part of the equipment here, he must have brought it himself at some point.

“Yeah…” you croaked out.

You tensed, staring at the wall and avoiding his gaze at any cost when Billy slid the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders and then proceeded to pour some massage oil into his hands. He rubbed them together, the soothing sound sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine, and then… you felt his hands on you.

Billy’s fingers were surprisingly soft and yet, they went to town firmly. A moan escaped your lips when he located the knots and began to massage them away.

“Told you I’m good,” he purred. You groaned by way of a response. Because the fucker was right. It felt amazing. He felt amazing. Billy knew exactly what he was doing—you didn’t even protest when, after a while, he pulled your swimsuit down further to reveal the entirety of your back. Up and down his hands went, exploring your bare skin and working away all of the tension his training had caused in the first place.

You could get used to this. You could fall asleep to this. Fall asleep and dream of Billy’s hands further down… no, stop! That’s exactly what he wants to achieve!

You were about to protest and opened your mouth when he travelled south with a start, testing the tense flesh on the back of your thighs. He tsked at you when his thumbs rolled over the knots and tense spots.

“I don’t think you were completely honest with me, doll.”

“I’m fine…”

“Flip over,” he suddenly said.

You ripped your eyes open, only realising now that you had closed them. You were naked from the waist up. If you turned around now, you’d give him a full front-row view of your tits. He wished, huh?

“I’m good, Billy.”

“Flip. Over,” he repeated. His voice was darker now, almost a little intimidating and… taunting in the most delicious and fuck, sexual way.

Grunting, you pulled your swimsuit back up just enough for it to cover your breasts and rolled on your back, meeting his blue eyes and staring daggers at him. He only chuckled.

“You’re really cute when you’re pretending to be angry.”

“I’m not pretending. I am angry.” Angry at how good it felt. Angry at how good he made you feel.

Billy smirked and poured some more oil into his palms. Next thing you knew, he was working your thighs so thoroughly that you tensed up in order not to wriggle around.

“Relax, babe…” Ha, easy for him to say. You had no doubt that he was enjoying this, perhaps even more than you were. Especially when his thumbs moved toward dangerous territory. Again and again, he grazed your inner thighs just a little too close to where you kept claiming he didn’t have an effect on you. A circumstance that was getting harder and harder to deny because fuck, you were growing wet. You could already feel the heat pooling between your legs, your breathing quickening.

And before you even knew it, your legs fell open further, inviting him in. It was over there and then. Fuck it. Fuck him, literally. You could only hope he had locked the door behind him. He won. He fucking won.

Your lips parted as Billy’s hands took the invitation. You bucked your hips the moment his thumb brushed directly over your still clothed clit, your nails digging into the treatment table, though this time, he didn’t tell you to relax. Instead, he did it again. And again. And again.

For a brief moment, he paused. And then, when you didn’t protest, he slowly pushed the thin stripe of fabric out of the way to reveal your glistening pussy to his greedy eyes. You were panting at this point, lost in the pleasure he was promising you without even speaking a word.

His fingers were slippery with the massage oil, his left thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped when you felt him push two fingers inside of you. He fucked you languidly, savouring every single second and you bucked your hips and arched your back, meeting his thrusts, silently begging for more.

You almost flinched upon hearing his seductive voice again. “I think that swimsuit needs to go, doll. It’s in the way… and we wouldn’t want to get massage oil all over it, now would we?”

Biting your lower lip, you hummed in agreement. All of a sudden, you did not mind him seeing you topless anymore at all. Quite on the contrary—it turned you on even more knowing that you’d be lying before him completely exposed, all his for the taking.

Billy did all the work for you. He removed his fingers from your pussy and chuckled when you whined at the loss. He then hooked his fingers into the hem of your swimsuit, pulling it all the way down—at an antagonisingly slow speed—to your ankles. You kicked them off, unable to hide your trembling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this aroused, except, perhaps, this one time you’d been unable to fall asleep and instead decided to masturbate to the thought of Billy fucking you. Shit, you were a goner. A complete and utter goner.

“Jesus, I knew you’d look even hotter without the swimsuit.”

You moaned in response, still unable to meet his gaze. You kept your eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when his left hand cupped one of your breasts as if they’d been made for him. His other hand returned to your slick cunt. Sweet, wet noises echoed through the otherwise empty room as he fingerfucked you all the while the hand on your breast kept teasing your hardening nipple. By the time he moved on to the other breast, you were breathing heavily, a warm knot tightening in your stomach—fast.

And yet again, you had to admit… Billy knew exactly what he was doing, working you toward what already felt like the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. His voice alone almost tipped you over the edge.

“Do you wanna come, babe?” he rasped.

“Please…” You barely recognised your own voice at this point. Begging Billy Hargrove for an orgasm… you’d most definitely lost your marbles.

But before you could slap yourself for your horny stupidity, you fell. Billy made you see stars, his fingers working your cunt like an instrument and hitting all the right keys. You clenched around his fingers, drenching them in your juices as your toes curled and you came hard.

He made sure help you ride it out before he released you, wet hands gliding all over your bare body. He massaged your breasts for a little while until you came back to your senses, your eyes still closed in pure and utter bliss. You didn’t protest when he tilted your head and stroked your neck.

For just a brief moment, he stopped touching you. Then, you felt something hard pressing against your parted lips. You didn’t care what you were, didn’t care that he was a player and would move on to the next girl after this. You didn’t even care that you were supposed to hate him. You wanted Billy and you wanted him now. His cock in your mouth seemed like a good place to start.

Moaning with relish, you closed your lips around his tip and sucked gently, testing the waters. You’d given a couple of blowjobs before but with him, you felt the odd need to impress with your skills. The results were almost immediate. Billy sucked in air audibly when you took him deeper, tongue darting forward to tease his slit. He pushed forward slightly—surprisingly patient, he let you take him inch by inch at your own pace until you rolled over to taste him properly.

You were done for the very moment you tasted a salty drop of precum on your tongue. Accompanied by another moan, you started bopping your head up and down, your left hand busying itself with his tight balls. You released him with a smacking noise, right hand covering what you could not take, and suckled on his tip like a popsicle before licking over the entire underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…” Billy threw his head back just when you opened your eyes. Pleased with his reaction, you repeated the motion and then took him in your mouth again, faster this time. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting forward now and slowly taking control. You let him. You let him fuck your mouth until your gag reflex hit and your eyes were watering and yet, when he pulled out of your mouth, leaving your lips swollen and tingling, you made a disappointed noise.

“Where?” was all he said. You bit your lower lip and nodded toward the desk. He didn’t need to elaborate on his question. You knew exactly what he meant and quite frankly, you were too far gone to back out now.

“Condom?” you breathed out as you slid off the treatment table and approached the desk naked, your limbs still trembling a little from your intense orgasm earlier.

“Yeah…” You figured he went to grab one from his bag stored away in the corner, always prepared for a quick fuck with a girl he’d wrapped around his finger for sport. As much as you attempted to force yourself to, you couldn’t complain about it. Not right now. Not when you were desperate for him to finally fuck you and get that remaining tension—the tension between the two of you—out of the way.

Billy didn’t disappoint. His blue eyes were dark with lust when he returned to you without his trunks and quite an impressive erection still glistening from your saliva under the thin latex of the condom. He flipped you around so your hips hit the edge of the desk and bent you forward, fingertips ghosting over your spine.

You shivered, your lips parting to beg him to put it in already when he knocked all air from your body. Billy sank himself into you with but one eager thrust, a groan escaping his lips in the process. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you in place for him as he began to fuck you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge back in so forcefully your breathing became uneven.

Your hands reached for the opposite edge of the desk to hold on to something, your legs almost dangling in the air. On your tiptoes, you kept your arse lifted to meet his hungry strokes. Hunting his own pleasure now, you could all but let your eyes roll the back of your head. He was fucking you so good… Billy hit all the right spots inside you and his stamina… fuck, all of the other guys you had been with would have creamed their pants long before you could have brought your lips anywhere near their dick.

It felt good… it felt so good… oh god.

“You gonna come for me again, babe?”

You nodded and hummed in response, too dazed for a coherent answer, feeling yourself tightening around his hard cock right before you exploded a second time. Pleasure coursed through your body, filling you from head to toe.

Billy grunted. He fucked you through your climax relentlessly, stilled only moments later when his own release overwhelmed him and he emptied himself into the condom. Shit, for a second you wished you’d have asked him to fuck you raw just so you could feel him coating your walls with his seed. You whined when he withdrew. But there was always a next time. You’d make sure of it.

You were certain now that you didn’t actually hate Billy Hargrove. You had hated how much you had wanted him.

“I think I’ll need a… ‘massage’ after every training session from now on. Your lessons are so exhausting,” you said, panting.

Billy helped you turn around and stand up straight, naked bodies pressed against each other. He grinned, his lips ghosting over yours. “You know what, I think so too, doll.”

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery

[hier--soir]

☆★ jessie's masterlist★☆

hi welcome :)

my blog is 18 + minors do not interact. warnings/tags included on each individual work. do not copy or translate my writing.

follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

ELLIE WILLIAMS | THE LAST OF US

★ sun don't set: life in the little house is calm - quiet. days pass in a blur of fruit and sunshine and companionship. slow mornings, afternoons, and evenings. ellie is slowly rediscovering her love for music, and on that journey, she writes a song about you.

JOHN PRICE | CALL OF DUTY

★ heart to heart: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY | CALL OF DUTY

★big: he’s big and he knows it.

JOEL MILLER | THE LAST OF US

★ a lover's pinch [series]: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

★ take your medicine: your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen

★ ripe: a night out with old friends helps you and joel realise what’s been missing in your relationship.

★ fwb!joel [series]: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. slowly but surely, it turns into more.

★ night breeze: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes.

★ fake it: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it?

★ back to texas: joel goes back to his house in texas

★ sleepy: joel is out like a light, but you can only think of one thing that will help you fall asleep

★ be good: joel was never really the submissive type. until he met you, and realised he'd do whatever you asked of him

★ tender is the night [for a broken heart]: a birthday dinner gets interrupted by a drunk ex, who still can't say the words you need to hear.

★ under the night [series]: peaceful settlement life in jackson is vastly different to how you once lived; traversing the united states, fighting to survive, and constantly looking over your shoulder. when you find solace and connection in joel miller and your guard lowers, will it become clear that jackson isn't as safe as it once seemed?

ABBY ANDERSON | THE LAST OF US PART II

★ high strung: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension.

★ one last time: when the woman you love comes crawling back in the middle of the night, can you convince her to stay?

FRANCISCO MORALES | TRIPLE FRONTIER

★ vis-à-vis: your bedroom window offers a direct view into your cute neighbour's apartment. as time goes by, you two start looking for each other through the glass. shy glances become desperate, needy glimpses into each other's lives until one day, you finally make contact.

DIN DJARIN | THE MANDALORIAN

★ raising cain [series]: over fifteen months and three different cities, two lonely souls keep finding their way back to one another. leading fragile lives of solitude, of violence, both Cain and Din Djarin can't help but be drawn to the familiarity in the other's embrace; the feeling of another person truly knowing them, in a world where not many can. as their lives begin to unravel, the two are faced with a choice between trusting, or having it all end in bloodshed.

FRANK CASTLE | THE PUNISHER

★ boxer!frank:

on the ropes: a dive bar, a stranger in an alley, and a punch to the kidney.

#my writing #masterlist #joel miller fanfiction #abby anderson fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fanfiction #fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction

[dailyadventureprompts]

The Mechanics of Baldur's Gate 3

As someone who's constantly tinkering with the mechanics of my favourite RPG, I LOVE a lot of what Larian has done with D&D; not only accurately translating the base system but improving upon in ways I never thought of.

Playing BG3 feels good, and I want to see how much of their work I can adapt for my own table. As such, here's a breakdown of a bunch of little tweaks they've made to 5e (taken from the bg3 wiki) and whether or not I think they're a good fit for regular pencil and paper d&d.

Shove is not a part of the attack action. It is a bonus action available to all characters. Shove only pushes the target back an amount that depends on the shover's strength and the target's weight. It normally does not knock them prone unless they are shoved off a high ledge.

This might be THE best design Larian implemented and is instantly going in my games. Bonus action shoving is such a natural addition to combat, gives so many more tactical options. My one protest is that I am NOT calculating the weight of every creature and object ( mainly because I'm terrible at guessing weights for things) so I'd go with the distance calculation based on the creature's size and con score.

Gaining inspiration based on backgrounds

Gee, a mechanical reward for roleplaying your character, one that's way more straight forward than the DM arbitrated "ideals, bonds, flaws," system. From now on I'm going to give each of my players an upfront " You gain inspiration when you ______" note on their character sheet based on their backgrounds.

The party is limited to two short rests per long rest. Short rests restore each ally's hit points by an amount equal to half their maximum HP (rounded down). There is no hit die rolling. Long rests require camp supplies, which are food items that must be looted or purchased. In towns you will be able to rest at an inn.

This is a mixed bag for me only because I like hitdie as a mechanical abstract and I don't want to see them removed. Tbh I wish more mechanics interacted with them and they were called something abstract like "stamina" or something. That said I ADORE the camp supplies idea because it not only gives you something minor to reward exploration with besides GP. On the otherhand tracking all those supplies without the game's inventory management would be tedious as hell so it'd need to be highly simplified.

I especially like the idea of limited short rests/supplies in larger survival based adventures where time isn't at a premium like it is inside a dungeon.

If you hide while not in a creature's sight cone, you automatically succeed. If you try to hide while in a creature's sight cone, you automatically fail. If you are hidden and enter a creature's sight cone, you must roll stealth against the creature's passive perception. This may be a straight roll, advantage, or disadvantage, based on the creature's senses and the level of lighting. Some creatures with different senses such as blindsight may follow different rules

Congrats on fixing stealth rolls Larian. No notes.

LOTS more opinions under the cut.

When a creature is at least 10 ft above their target and makes a ranged attack, they receive a +2 bonus to the attack roll due to high ground. When a creature is at least 10 ft below their target and makes a ranged attack, they receive a -2 penalty to the attack roll due to low ground.

This is fine, and quite inline with a lot of fixes I've seen for flanking rules. I'm fine with a little extra battlefield math in order to make moments of advantage (spending inspiration, reckless attacking etc) shine.

The game does not stop a character from casting a leveled spell with both an action and a bonus action

Mixed on this, on one hand I've played enough clerics to know how much it sucks to have to use your bonus action to do a necessary spell and then be stuck with a so-so cantrip or melee attack for standard. On the other hand there's some design balance issues at play here.

Help is an Action. This ability allows characters to aid an ally in combat and remove negative Conditions. Using the help action on a downed ally brings them back to 1 hit point and leaves them prone.

Love the idea of help doing multiple things AND being a solution to minor status conditions. and giving everyone the ability to help means I can be a lot more aggressive when it comes to knocking character to 0. if I had to further patch this, I'd say that this also allows for a medicine check to allow a creature to spend a hitdie when they're downed, or allows the helping character to make a "SNAP OUT OF IT, WE'RE YOUR FRIENDS" charisma roll for charmed allies.

Jumping is a bonus action which consumes 10 ft of movement speed. With a Strength score of 10 or below, a creature can jump 15 ft, and this increases by 5 ft for every two points in strength above 10. At 20 Str a creature may spend 10 ft of movement speed and a bonus action to jump, and can travel 35 ft effectively increasing the creature's movement speed by up to 25 feet.

This, combined with the prone rules (see below) is JUICY, as it allows for risk-reward battlefield mobility . That said I'd add some caveats/clarifications: The jump always succeeds in moving you, but if you're taking damage, jumping up or down more than 10ft, or into rough terrain you need to make an acrobatics check not to beef it and fall prone (ending your turn). Your jump is likewise a buffer for how far you can willingly fall before taking damage, but if you fall after your jump, you always land prone.

Weapon actions, 'nough said.

It's more complexity than I'd give to first time players but HOT DAMN if it isn't a great idea to give the martial characters some options instead of just making the same attacks over and over again. I've actually been sockpiling 3rd party versions of this for a while now and I can't wait to add them in.

All The conditions are great:

Blinded: In addition to the other effects, ranged attacks are limited to 15 ft range. Blinded creatures can also make opportunity attacks.

Frightened: Creatures which are frightened are unable to move at all (rather than being unable to move toward the source of their fear), unless the effect instead makes them "fearful" which gives them the frightened effect as well as making them flee.

Prone: Being prone gives disadvantage on Strength and Dexteritysaving throws, attacks against a prone creature have advantage out to a range of 10 ft rather than 5 ft, and ranged attacks against a prone creature do not have disadvantage. Your character cannot do anything while prone. Starting the turn while prone will cause you to automatically use half your movement to stand up. Becoming prone during your turn automatically ends your turn.

Wet: This is a new condition that prevents the character from burning (e.g. from Searing Smite) and grants resistance to fire damage, but also makes the creature vulnerable to lightning and cold damage

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #d&d mechanics #dnd homebrew #homebrew mechanic #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #yes I know I misspelled the title

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

ToA Fic Recs!!!

Tag List: @itscharliebabey

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!

I probably forgot a LOT but these are the ones I tracked down via bookmarks and frantic searches upon realizing they Were Not bookmarked rip 😔

AND ALL ORGANIZED!!!! :DDD

OneShots

Apollo & His Kids

A Heart Heavy With Memories by @summerbummin

After reclaiming his godhood, Apollo visits his children often, and on one of those visits he tells them about their mortal parents. He shows them memories of their time together. And ends up reminiscing a little more than he bargained for.

How I Met Your Mother(s and Fathers) by NebuchadnezzarII

Around the Cabin Seven table, Apollo tells each of his six children how he met their parents.

Through The Son's Eyes by @literallyjusttoa

A journey through Asclepius' relationship with his dad, from Ancient Greece to modern day.

demand nothing less (than transformation) by tissuebocks

Dad is quiet for a moment, stroking her hair. Then, with a surge of his usual flamboyant excitement: “At what time is your date?” Kayla blinks. She pulls back a little to look at Dad. He’s still a little blurry from the tears, but she feels much calmer now. “He’s picking me up at six. …Why?” Dad’s eyes—cobalt blue—sparkle. Literally. “We’re going to dress you to the nines.” (or: apollo loves his daughter. he also loves fashion. even better is when the two intersect.)

@tsarinatorment

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Naomi Solace is performing at a black tie event, and neither her son nor his boyfriend know much about formalwear. Day 2: Black Tie Event

Fatal Flaw

Every demigod had one, and every demigod had their trial where they had to face it head on and hope they had the strength to defeat it before it defeated them. Day 24: Injuries Beyond Healing

A Right To Emotions

Apollo had abandoned his son when he needed him, and the worst thing was that he’d never realised until Nico told him. Day 30: Forgiveness In A New Day

Childhood, Or A Lack Thereof

Demigods grow up too fast. Day 23: How long does youth last for?

Memories of Sunflowers

He first met his dad in a field of sunflowers. Day 2: Alone in a Sunflower Field

Shuttered Heart

Apollo loves fiercely and his losses hit all the harder for it. It's a trait his children inherit.

Daughter of Archery

If there’s one thing Kayla knows, it’s archery. Day 17: Perfection Is A Must

Apollo & Meg

Movie Night by @falconfrost

Meg and Apollo attend a midnight horror movie showing. Everyone likes clowns, right?

yesteryear by @m-arnie-xx

yesteryear (noun) — last year or the recent past, especially as nostalgically recalled; often a period in the past with a set of values or a way of life that no longer exists. Or, There is eighteen hours, thirty-five minutes, and nine seconds, between when Meg last sees Apollo, and when Artemis sends a sign to Camp Half-Blood to tell them that he has survived and defeated Python.

lesterlicious by apopcornkernel

yazz_ • 1 week ago This dude is straight up LARPing as the god Apollo or something 4.7K likes REPLY View 25 replies

Meg & Apollo's Highly Limited Roadtrip Playlist by Curioser

Fourteen hundred miles. Four radio stations. Two friends trying hard not to kill each other, or to acknowledge the fact that in less than a week, they may never see each other again. And Lizzo. So much Lizzo.

visions of beasts by UKULELEchildren

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the dark haze. A vague smudge of purple appeared. His cloak. “No.” I whispered. “You’re dead.” What would Meg have visions about?

Apollo & Olympus

Beneath the Rhododendrons by Lepidopterrain

Carefully, she slipped past the hyacinths that had popped up around the bush like a small protective wall. They'd been the only reason she'd looked down at that spot really, and noticed the flash of gold curls amongst the pinks, reds, and purples of the rhododendrons. Artemis let her fingers linger on the petals of one of the small little guardian flowers, just for a moment. She'd never been sure if her brother had noticed just how little control he actually had over hyacinths, for a flower that was supposedly 'his.' She suspected Demeter and Persephone knew, if anyone. But neither goddess had deigned to talk of such matters with Artemis. Perhaps for the best, Artemis wasn't really sure what she would've said if they had tried to bring the subject up. There's a very good chance she wouldn't tried to shoot one of them and then escape while they were distracted. Emotions weren't her forte. She was grown enough to admit it. 

@tsarinatorment

The Older Twin

Apollo could lie all he wanted, Artemis was the older one. She’d never felt that as keenly as she did now. Day 26: Missing You

Third Strike

Zeus loved Apollo, once. His favourite son, his golden child. His greatest threat. Day 19: And So The Sun Sets

Ancient Greece

A Sun's Forgiveness by @hazardous-lightdas12

“Mortals die Artemis,” Apollo whispers. “Their lives will forever wax and wane. Like the moon. The ebb and flow of Uncle Poseidon’s waves. But us. We are eternal. You must remember that.” Her brother sounds like he has said the words to himself too many times. – Apollo does not scream when the lightning bolt strikes him. -- Alt Summary: Fathers make mistakes sometimes. Hippolytus’ father has made the teensy, easily understandable and forgivable mistake of beheading his son due to unproven and untrue allegations. Artemis grieves. Apollo tries to make everything all better, and somehow ends up making everything worse. . Zeus is so good at daddying! Admetus worries about the logistics of cow-herding

Of ravens and songbirds by Cassiethewriter

The godling whimpered and fought, and Python refused to let the hiss of frustration fall out. “Quite understandable, too.” He said, coils growing tighter and making the godling cough again. “Poor fair Leto being hunted by the issued Hera, the Queen of Olympus and the only child raised by Rhea. You heard of Leto’s suffering from day one, and sought to bring justice to it. Very brave and god-like.” Python snorted again. “But I’m afraid this is where you myths start— and end. Right here, right now. Like a moth to the sun.” Or, The battle with Python.

Phoenixrising007

Party On Olympus (gone wrong)

Mother’s hand was holding onto him firmly. Probably to stop Hermes from running down the hall and around the finely carved pillars decorating the sides of the palace. Despite the fact that if he were a mortal he would not even be walking yet, he already got himself into trouble recently.

Puppies (and why they can fix anything)

"Aww look at the puppy!” He raced forward, voice an octave higher than usual. As is normal when speaking to such an adorable creature.

Apollo & His Lovers

Naomi Solace

thinking about it, had a breakthrough by @thesungod

“I’m Naomi Solace!” “Okay?” “The singer?” Fred shakes his head, a smug smile on his lips. “Never heard of you.” “As Long As The Sun Shines? It was number 1 on the billboard for like, a month!” Hating herself, she starts mouthing the melody. There’s no way this asshole doesn’t know her stupid song. Naomi Solace meets an arrogant, young producer that she really wants to kick in the balls. Unfortunately, he seems to know what he’s doing.

Solar Powered by @curseofdelos (:D Glad to see you reblogged this hehe here's a tag :3)

Apollo, god of music, was how he had introduced himself. Naomi had assumed he was joking, and he didn't correct her. She had dated musicians and poets before. They all had an ego, and those same words would not have felt out of place from either of her exes. She merely downgraded Apollo from potential boyfriend to potential fling, and didn't think twice about it. Now though…. Now her son could heal wounds with a single touch, and her world was tipping on its axis.

Daphne

Plaything of the Gods - Daphne's Story by @the-primordial-archivist

When Apollo finally decided to wear a crown, it was her leaves that topped his head. But it wasn’t just he who wore her branches. Winners had her leaves on them too. Laurels. The symbol of victory.

Hyacinthus

You make a fool of death with your beauty (and for a moment, I forgot to worry) by @ukelele-boy

Sometimes as a god you lose track of time. With all his prophetic powers, Apollo never saw it coming.

His Flowers byshotar1s

Meg notices her servant, Apollo, is quieter than usual. Oh, the flowers in his hands explain why.

Frey

I Woo The Asgardian Hipster God by ladanse

"Another time, in a Stockholm tavern, I met this god who was smoking hot, except his talking sword just would not shut up." -The Hidden Oracle, Rick Riordan

(sidenote: WE NEED MORE FREYPOLLO)

REVOLUTION

Conversations (regarding a certain half-brother) by Phoenixrising007

Walking out of the council meeting Ares did his best to make sense of what just happened. Apollo was there. Back just like Athena said he would be. She won the blasted bet. Again.

@tsarinatorment

The Sun

Apollo plays the role of an idiot well enough that often, it’s forgotten that he’s one of the most powerful gods - and one of the most wrathful. #140: Setting Heaven on Fire

Seven Days and Seven Nights

A warning, a storm, and Will’s world gets flipped upside-down. Day 11: Storming

MultiChaps

Secrets of the Sun by @sierice and beta'd by @ukelele-boy

“No, that kid is too similar to me… way too similar... Almost like he’s…” Apollo’s eyes widened. “Like he’s you from the future?” Persephone finished. Dionysus asked incredulously, “You don’t seriously think that right? There’s no way you would ever dare to look like that!” --------------------------  This is literally just a Trials of Apollo reading the books fic. Hope you enjoy!

time eats all his children by IzzyMRDB

There is something sickly in the passage of time. Time is a rot. A disease or a plague, a festering in your very being that blurs the past until it is tainted with the present. Until the present is tainted with the future. The Greeks were well aware of this sickness, for all their depictions of time, while divine, were also rotted. AKA Apollo is the god least touched by the passage of time, yet the one most affected by it. There's so much of the present that he could change. AKA Time Travel with Post-TOA Apollo

Flowers For Apollo by @soleil-in-retrograde

As far as Lester Papadopoulos was concerned, he was seventeen years old and lived at home with his elderly mother just outside of Tampa. He had a(n older? younger? twin?) sister who visited regularly and a baby sister(?) in California who called him her dummy and would help out with his mother's garden when she visited and he was teaching piano to. He also had a myriad of cousins who went to a camp up north he wrote constantly. He didn't know what he wanted to do with the life stretching in front of him. ----- The God Apollo has a bad habit of not telling people when something is wrong. It doesn't help he doesn't quite remember until it's too late. It's not his fault.

Over The Palisade by @aeithalian

This was an old dream. He’d had it many times before. Jerry, standing before the Roman Senate.  Mars, waving his hand. A lyre, appearing on Jerry’s arm.  Jerry’s prophecy: “Crowns will fall to ash.”  Jupiter, standing between the new augur and a towering statue of himself.  Apollo, standing between his father and his son.  Olympus, Apollo on his knees, trembling, electricity jumping over his arms. A stranger’s face, dark and stony. He says something, but the words are quiet.  The doors of the Palace of the Sun. Chained shut.  Or: Apollo has been missing for two and a half years, and there may or may not be an impending apocalypse.

Sunrise by IcyDreams_and_FieryWishes

At 10,000 years of age, Apollo falls to Chaos. With the last of his strength, he sends his memories through the fabric of Space-Time. At 1 day of age, Apollo refuses to let the story be the same as last time. Vi Va La Revolution. SkyFall: Season 1, Arc 1- The Rising Sun. In which Apollo lives through his early life, forming alliances and rewriting mythological history while striving to keep his siblings and family safe from threats outside and within their home. Will he succeed? Or will Fate prevail once more? One thing is for sure, Apollo remembers. And he will take his vengeance.

@tsarinatorment

THE MUST-READ Eclipse!!!!!!

According to the prophecy, Will has to go to on a quest to Tartarus. According to Apollo, that isn’t going to happen, even if it means he has to break the Ancient Laws.

The Stolen God is a ToA/MCatGoA crossover!

Python is defeated. The prophecies are restored, and Nero has fallen. Apollo has not been seen since. His trials are over; why isn’t he back on Olympus?

@flightfoot

Memories of Godly Selfishness

Chapter 1: Apollo and Meg watch Apollo's interactions with the demigods (and Grover) in Blood of Olympus and the Singer of Apollo. They don't like what they see. Chapter 2: Apollo, Meg, and Percy watch the fight with Otis and Ephialtes in Mark of Athena. Apollo gains new perspective on gods’ relationships with demigods. Chapter 3: Apollo, Meg, and Annabeth watch the final battle against Kronos and the aftermath, with a surprise guest later on. Chapter 4: Apollo and Meg watch “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood”. Apollo gives a long over-due apology. Chapter 5: Side Story - Satyr School: Apollo teaches some young satyrs. Chapter 6: Apollo, Meg, Thalia, and Will watch Thalia's and Luke's encounter with a certain son of Apollo.

A Convergence of Apollos

Percy had been hoping for a quiet afternoon celebrating Grover's birthday with him. Then Apollo arrived, and their peaceful afternoon got a lot less peaceful. It got even weirder when two kids popped out of thin air who both seemed to know him.

@falconfrost

Apollo & The Aftermath

The Roman emperors and Python have been defeated, the oracles reclaimed, and Apollo restored to godhood. He's having somewhat of a hard time adjusting to being back among the gods, which is understandable after his six-month grow-a-conscience speedrun. But something else is rotten in the state of Olympus, and before it can really feel like home, it's going to require some serious renovation.

The Tail of A Pollo

The hunt for the Teumessian Fox hasn't been going great, but thanks to a new prophecy (of sorts), it looks like Apollo may be key to aiding the Hunters of Artemis in the beast's defeat. In like, a super badass, heroic way, of course. Actually, on second thought, maybe just imagine the monster's defeat in your head. You definitely don't have to read this. I'm certain you get the gist of it already. You can simply exit this tab real quick, no biggie. Have a lovely day!

Bad Sons by @thesungod

Hades turned to the demigods that were still kneeling. “I need to speak with Will Solace,” he said to the shocked room, in the tone he could have used to say “I came to ask if one of you could lend me a pen.” “Alone,” the god added after a moment, staring right at Nico. Or, Will and Nico go on the stupidest quest ever. And it’s all Apollo’s fault.

Curioser

Fall of The Sun

Five times Apollo fainted and one time he didn't.

The Trials of Apollo: The Forgotten Acres

When their truck breaks down on the way to New York, Apollo and Meg get a few days of downtime in a refuge called the Forgotten Acres. While there, Apollo confronts a decision he's been putting off for weeks, and finds that it's one of the hardest choices he's ever had to make.

RavenWingDark

Kill The Sun

Even restored to godhood, Apollo still wants to be around his friends and mortal family, even at the risk of Zeus'...dissatisfaction. This is the four times Apollo got away with helping his demigods and the one time he didn't.

Mourning Sun changed my brain chemicals

Percy has the Chalice and all he has left to do is hand it over to Ganymede. Then he notices Ganymede might not be the only one being mistreated by Zeus. Apollo's at brunch, too.

Series

the grace of gods is a grace that comes by violence by @californiannostalgia

Were I That Burning Star, the first fic in the series, is an absolute Must Read imo

An old panic gripped me—the breathless fear of being forgotten, being lost. Would anyone remember me when I was gone? Would someone think to lay a flower down on my grave and say some fond nothings like, “Was a pretty cool guy, that Lester,” while wiping off a single dramatic tear rolling down their cheek? Oh, who was I kidding. So what if no one remembered? There wasn’t much I was proud to be remembered by anyway. After defeating Python and bringing down Nero, Phoebus Apollo reclaims his godhood. He is glorious once more. But for some reason, he can't quite make himself go back to how things were before. (A Character Study of Various Gods, including but not limited to: Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and maybe Zeus)

Gods' Eye View by @flightfoot

Carefully, I picked out Apollo’s string. It glowed vibrantly, as the strings of all divine beings do. Mine most brilliantly of all, of course, though Apollo’s always seemed to be trying to outshine it. I firmly grasped hold of it, matching its own glow with my own. Slowly, I exerted my will, my power, pressing my radiance against the manifestation of Apollo’s, slowly increasing my light until it overpowered his. Yet, it resisted me, its glow strengthening, refusing to surrender. I grit my teeth. “I am Zeus, King of the Gods, and your father. Submit to me.” ----- Zeus tries to turn Apollo into a mortal. It does not go as well as he expected. That only incenses him further.

The Hidden Oracle+1 spin-offs by @garecc

Artemis falls to earth with Apollo in the hidden Oracle. Flames streamed off her body as she fell. Features sibling banter, protective Artemis, and far too many headcanons. ON AN INDEFINITE HAITUS.

rip hiatus😔

Memories of Dust and Gold by @moodyseal holds lots a variety of fics!

Companion Fics

The Healing Sun by ReadTheBooks. Companion to Eclipse

You are Asclepius. You are 9 and just want to help people. Your father is kind, and warm, and you love him dearly. Or, a look at a relationship hindered by loss but persevering through love. Asclepius and Apollo throughout the ages.

Other, But During ToA

A Single Drachma by @tsarinatorment, podfic by @stereden

Alone. Injured. Hunted. Michael doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he’s running out of time, and he’s only got one shot at calling for help. He’s got to make it count.

In Dreams by @m-arnie-xx

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo. He was too arrogant, too vain, and flirted with her and her fellow hunters incessantly. He always appeared in their camp at the most inconvenient times, offering archery tips that no one wanted and being a persistent source of annoyance to Lady Artemis near constantly. Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but sometimes, when Zoe asked a Hunter how they knew something they couldn’t have possibly found out by themselves, and they told her about their dream, she would look up at the sun, and she would wonder… or Zoe did not get demigod dreams… until she did.

Hunger Games AUs

Bloody Eclipse by AmeliaAndreas3

The Sun Must Go On by @please-help-this-little-lesbian

The Golden Gates by SAM_42

Still The Mockingjay Won't Sing by SunnySky_11

The Copollo Masterlist - Collection of Ao3 & FF.net fics of Apollo & Commodus </3 Trainwreck beloved

And of you'd like, my fics:

The Works of Apollo - Canon Compliant Fics!

Alder's Mess of ToA AUs - AUs!

Adventures in (Grand)Parenting: Featuring Koios - My obsession with Koios spawned this!

The Crew of Dodona - Pirate AU! Random fic ideas written whenever the itch strikes!

#FEAST MY FRIENDS FEAST! #fic recs #the trials of apollo #trials of apollo #toa apollo #pjo apollo

[wearepurplejackets]

Little recap of episode 4 of season 4 of Wakfu

Look at this!!

You saw this beautiful smile???? This smile can stop babies from crying (and Nora). This smile can revive a puppy.

You saw it???

Well, I hope you did because I think we'll not see it in a really loooooooong time~ (maybe 9... Or 10 episodes.) The storm is coming... violently with a bat.

(BEHOLD SPOILERS OF EP 4 OF SEASON 4 OF WAKFU)

I remember Tot said season 4 was gonna be sad a f*ck and that Yugo will have to pass some kind of "hard trial" (AGAIN) in this season because this kid will never have a good rest. Not even a breath. Stop. Give this little boy some holidays c'mon, the lord is always testing our little angel to the limit. (And by lord I mean Ankama I'm looking at you...)

So it's very likely that Yugo will start to suffer even more in the next episode. And of course, in the entire season :))))))) Let this boy have something, someone precious by his side more than an instant and stop take it from him in the next second, I beg you. (He just found his family... And... Qilby I guess. And Adamai just abandoned him already to investigate by his own way...)

Just seeing how the kings and queens of every nation were so disrespectful in front of him and just called his mother a monster and made her cry, well. (I want to riot! When Joris said they were "quite tense" he fell short.)

Okay, yes, I understand the eyes in the sky~ are pretty creepy and of course I don't trust her either, at least, like this is so suspicious for sure, no one was born yesterday even when she is trying to be so kind and helpful monitoring the entire planet (yeessss mom, way too much).

But, c'mon, this is a goddess as tall as... I don't know, as much as she wants, girl she is made of f*cking magic. If she wanted she could erase you from existence. She didn't have to give a f*ck about anyone and HERE WE ARE~

The best thing you can do is looking for a fight with her in the moment you meet her with no hesitasion? Do you want to die that much? Do you know about survival? Did you skip that class maybe? (I'm going for a tea BECAUSE-)

It was so necessary to (be a little racist dear rich people and) insult the giant blue mother of your hero in his f*cking face and the people who are at least trying to do your job (which any of you losers did well, like ever, btw. When Sadida kingdom was about to be destroyed by the chaos of Ogrest what did you do?? Eh, where were you???)

Jobs like protecting and saving your citizens from, nothing, being robbed and I don't know: imminent death??? I mean, really? Was that all you thought about in this situation? Being a d*ck was your best choice.

These same guys here were talking about stolen freedom?? What freedom? The brotherhood of Tofu had to save your asses for like 3 season. 3 ovas and dozens of comics. The same people who criticize others actions but never assist and reunite when they are needed, Cause I don't know Rick, it seems a little fake....

Yugo just met his mom and his sis and he already has the world of 12 hating them... Like wow, the rulers are all going to die in the hands of that kind of white demon/zombies of TLOU/soul suckers or whatever they are. And I really don't give a f*ck for any of them, ladies and gentlemen. Only the crowns are going to remain. (Down with the monarchy.)

Weeeeeeeell.

You know what? I don't care what Yugo will do from this point. Nop, not a bit. But I'm with him to the end of everything. I will support you honey, I will defend you no matter what. I mean, I'll be totally okay if he decides to save the world for the third f*cking time and I also will be okay if in the end he prefers to let all these motherf*ckers die in an instant with no mercy and no regre-

And it could even happen that Yugo loses someone important in season 4... (The same way I will lose my mind.) Hope that never happens, I just swear to god-

Anyway, Yugo fans, unite and brace yourselves.

#rip yugo's smile #you will be missed #wakfu season 4 #wakfu yugo #wakfu #yumalia #wakfu amalia #amalia sheran sharm #wakfu spoilers #wakfu s4 #as a yugo fan im always scared #wakfu season 4 spoilers #ankama #spoilers #eliatrope #wakfu evangelyne #recap #wakfu adamai #where the f*ck are you #adamai #yugo #wakfu qilby #qilby #nora #eliatropes #tristepin #wakf ruel #dofus #socorro #im spanish my grammar is a mess

[the-californicationist]

Excerpt from Gunslinger - "Appaloosa"

OMG!! I commissioned this artwork from the incredible @captain-natey who RETURNED TO ME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!! I just wanted to plug their work (their commissions are OPEN! visit their website here!!) and I wanted to post the chapter excerpt from "Gunslinger" (Price/Reader) that it belongs to. Hope you enjoy! Please go show Nate some love! Thanks for reading. TW: reference to past domestic abuse, Reader has call sign and speaks Spanish

Price sat beside you and pulled your chair closer to his, looping an arm around the back of it,

“Look, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t -”

“Capitán! Quit whispering your sugary words into her ear. This is the woman who survived Miguel ‘El Matador’ Moreno for diez pinche años. She may look like a little lady, but she’s done nastier work than all four of you perritos combined. She is the reason why the infamous Jefe Luis Villagomez doesn’t travel north of the Rio Grande. Charon doesn’t ferry the living very often, amigos. She only takes the dead. Porfa,” Alejandro waved a hand in the air dismissively, unamused by Price’s coddling tones. 

Ale may have been embellishing a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need your hand to be held.

“I can’t leave the animals,” you said, checking to see how far these men had thought this plan through. 

“Laswell called Tony, and he’ll be here Wednesday,” Gaz told you. 

Tony had watched the ranch for you once before. He was a sharp-witted veteran that had run his own ranch for decades, so you felt good about leaving the farm to him. Tony could take care of himself. He did tend to spoil the goats, but there were worse things. 

“How long?” Your question hung in the air like a balloon losing its air, floating, surrounded by silence. 

Vargas and Price shared a look. Price repositioned himself in his chair, not thrilled about having to answer you,

“Not sure, love. Is that alright?” 

It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice for this man and his makeshift band of brothers? Your peace? You’d fought so damn hard for that peace. You’d survived a devil of a man in order to sleep warm and safe and knowing you could take care of your damn business unaided. After giving up years of your life to unrest and fear, your reward had been the reconstruction of your independence. Price was asking you for your hard-fought freedom. You weren’t ready to give that up. You weren’t ready for sleeping on floors and reloading guns. You weren’t ready to face more devil-men. 

But what else could you do? Price had you, threatening your heart. If you woke up tomorrow to his empty bed, you didn’t know if you could take that pain. You imagined that Kahlo’s Wounded Deer felt much the same; shot through the chest with nowhere to run, stuck between the cliff’s edge and your lover - your hunter - both promising suffering in different ways. No escape. 

The captain studied you like a heeler dog studied its herd, watching for even the slightest movement to strike, to react. He witnessed the fear flash in your face, and in turn, you saw the despair shadow his. It was so slight, that change in his expression, but to you, it was like he was screaming. You, too, were screaming. 

“Okay, but just for this mission. Then, I need to get back to my life,” you decided, making your limitations known, quietly but firmly. 

The relief that washed through Price’s eyes was palpable. 

Vargas served dinner in his chaotic way, family style, sharing plates. Everyone was eating with their hands, cradling the homemade tortillas like little flowers, using them to scoop up meat and sauce that dripped down their palms like nectar, spicy and sweet. 

Ghost didn’t take his food into the other room this time, feeling secure enough to flip up the mouth of his painted mask to eat. It was like seeing him naked; he was always covered up, so any skin was somehow too much. Soap crowded Ghost from his corner of the table, trying to steal more asada, laughing and joking with Ale. Gaz and Price were huddled, murmuring about something, talking with full mouths in low tones. 

It was almost too serene. There were times in life where you understood that you were in a moment you could never return to. You may have similar ones in your future, but somehow, you knew when certain wrinkles in time were singular. As you watched your guests, you knew that this was definitely one of those moments. 

Price had his arm draped across your chair, keeping you near him. You crafted a bite for him in your hand, pinching the soft tortilla until it held the perfect amount of Ale’s asada. 

You nudged Price with your free hand,

“Toma, come esto, papi.” Here, have a bite, daddy.

He turned away from Gaz and found you there, his bite of food in your hands, and his face lit up like a flame. Bending his head down to meet your hand, he grabbed your wrist in his huge fist, trapping your arm. Then, slowly, he put his mouth around the morsel, lips touching the pads of your fingers, tongue licking the sauce from them. 

Vargas watched your interaction from the other side of the table, open-mouthed. Soap smacked him on the shoulder as if to cash in a bet.

“No, animales! Not at the table!”

The men shared a lighthearted groan and laughed good-naturedly, giving you and their captain a hard time about your little display of affection. 

You smirked, feeling accomplished. Price had wanted to tell them, so you thought a dropped hint or two would be alright. To your relief, he laughed with them, chewing his food before making a comment,

“Sabe buena.” Tastes good. His voice, still badly accented, was mirthful and suggestive, dragging out another round of playful jeering. 

Then, to your surprise, the captain pulled your chair back away from the table, leaning it on its rear legs, holding it at an angle, and kissed you deeply. You let out a little cry of shock, silenced by his mouth. But, you recovered, kissing him back, wrapping one hand around his jaw and the other running through his hair. 

It was all in good fun. Normal. Just a couple flirting with each other, but for Price, you could tell it meant more. It was one thing to bare your souls to each other in front of the farm animals, or to sneak off and rediscover original sins in the quiet of your room, but it was something else to show the world that you chose him. To show his men that you were committed to their captain. That you weren’t just a rest-stop on their long journey. You got the sense that by committing to him, you were also committing to them: his family. 

The rest of the meal passed in that same warmth, filled with laughter and jokes, stories and questions about each other. Intimacy. The whole time, Price couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Your thigh, your hand, the nape of your neck - he was grabbing you like a lifeline. He shared his food, making you try his chili relleno, giving you sips of his drink when yours ran dry, doting on you. 

“Okay, time for dessert, yes?” You asked the others, picking up dirty dishes as you retreated back to the kitchen. 

You heard exasperated groaning, their bellies full and struggling, but you didn’t hear a no. Vargas followed you into the kitchen, pretending to help,

“Dios mío, necesito un cigarrillo después de verlos a ustedes.” My God, I need a cigarette after watching you two. 

“Cállate, cerdito.” Shut up, piglet. You smiled to yourself, cutting up what was left of the cheesecake, giving Price’s plate the largest piece. 

“¿Estas enamorado, morena?” Are you in love, darling? His voice was a quiet whisper. It felt like a gunshot wound in your chest. 

“I don’t know,” you said, in English, not trusting yourself to tell such a lie in your native tongue. 

Your old friend covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows heading skyward, giving you an obvious look. He replied in English, understanding the secret you’d been trying to conceal,

“You know better, Charon. We are not men who should be loved. I hope you know what you’re doing, mija. ”

You didn’t reply out loud, but on the inside, you heard yourself say, “Me, too.”

Even though they lived in the shadows, you weren’t sold on the idea that they should be priests for their causes. Men like Price typically followed two paths. The love of a woman, if she becomes his family, could break his heart, making him forget his purpose, distracting him from his quest for justice. Or, she would light a fire in him, turning him into a dragon. You were afraid to find out which path he would choose.

You wondered if he loved you. 

You delivered the cake and poured more tequila into all the little cups that were thirsty for it. 

John was rolling a cigar in his fingers absentmindedly, and you could tell he was aching to smoke it. 

“You wanna come outside with me, love?” Price invited you, rubbing your thighs in big, sweeping strokes, making your blood rush through them, somehow knowing what you wanted. 

Everyone else was chatting, or watching Gaz play that video game of his, backseat driving, telling him where to hide and who to shoot. Which gun to use. You slipped out onto the porch with Price, avoiding any more ribbing. 

You stood against the porch railing, facing the yard, staring out at the darkness of the night, the rain finally dying out to a drizzle, casting little blue galaxies in the flooded grass, reflecting the light from a huge moon. Price stood directly behind you, pressed against your body, wrapping one hand around the railing, closing you in. He held his cigar in the other hand, smoking it in circles, trying to make the ashes burn evenly. 

“You surprised me at dinner,” he commented, obviously looking for a response. 

You feigned ignorance,

“Oh, why?”

“Feeding me by hand like that. Can’t be doing that in public. Makes me go a bit hard, love.” His voice was right next to your ear, gravelly and delightfully threatening. 

You smiled sweetly, your words coated in pretend innocence, playing with him,

“What do you mean? I just wanted you to have a bite. One little bite can’t hurt, can it, John?” 

“It’s bloody mental, the way you make me feel,” he took a long drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble out as he spoke, leaning over you, “I’d fuck you right here, pretty girl, given half a chance.”

He took a deep breath along the side of your neck, smelling your skin beneath your hair, and when he exhaled, a moan was wrapped quietly inside it.

You pressed your ass into his crotch, finding him nearly hard. Touching his hand gently, you took his cigar and stuck it in your mouth, the wet leaves tasting like him. You curled the smoke with your tongue, locking eyes with him over your shoulder, watching him suffer deliciously,

“I dunno about ‘mental’, John. But it seems like you have an oral fixation.

You punctuated your last two words, saying them with a soft, sultry undertone. His eyes narrowed as he smiled down at you in a sinister grin,

“Do I ever.”

He stole the stick back from you and smiled even wider, teeth gleaming, his incisors seeming like fangs in his wolfy smile. 

“Think they’re watching us?” You let your eyes turn over to the window, covered with a sheer curtain, fully aware that the view outside was more visible than your view into the house. Trick of the light. 

He shrugged,

“Not if they know what’s good for them.”

Price’s cock had fully hardened now, and he thrust it up into your body ever so slightly, rubbing himself through layers of clothes, rocking his hips once and then twice like a promise of things to come. It made you feel a deep, primal lust, understanding his need without his words, your bodies engaging in an ancient art that had remained untainted by eons of time. You returned his invitation, rolling your hips back onto him, your ass pressing soundly into his pinned shaft. 

“We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow. It’s five hours to El Ojo,” Price groaned, whispering, rutting against you mindlessly, burying his face in your hair, staining your scent with his smoke. 

You turned around to face him; he didn’t stop his idle grinding, looking tranquilized by his heady tobacco. Hypnotizing you with his casual eroticism. 

“You don’t seem sleepy,” you commented, letting your hands roam over his chest and belly, tracing his nipples beneath his smooth shirt. He shuddered at your touch, sighing deeply. 

With his cigar perched carefully between his fingers, he grabbed your jawbone, and you could feel the wet end press into your cheek. You could sense the warmth of the ash on your skin. He began to kiss you, all of the smoke and musky scents of him blended together, and his strong, masculine cologne made your head spin. His kisses were controlling and long, moving your head where he wanted it to be, sucking your lips and tongue, keeping them from exploring on their own. He was the guide for your passion, showing you all the ways he would be able to please.

He broke away, but only far enough to keep your lips from touching, his breath hot as it warmed your mouth when he spoke,

“Early. Tomorrow. We have to get up early. We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you sighed, a little dramatically, easing past his grip, removing yourself from him, untangling his vines from your bones, “if you say so, John. Buenas noches.” 

You walked inside, swaying your hips a little more than you needed to, knowing he was looking, his blue eyes burning into your curves. Just before you went through the door, you glanced over at him. In the darkness of the porch, cast in shadow, the smoldering tip of his cigar glowed in his open mouth, the light from it gleaming off of his teeth and coloring his lips and beard a fiery orange. He was grinning, like a fox in a henhouse. When he saw you looking, he made a small show of readjusting himself, pawing at his swollen rod to release it from where it was trapped, and in the dimness, you could see its threatening outline. 

You shut the door behind you, hands shaking. The other men mostly ignored you, but you caught them glancing your way, trying to sneak looks. Soap was not as sneaky as the rest, staring blankly as if he had a secret he shouldn't have.

As you wished them good night, they returned the sentiment casually, but it was then that you noticed the window. Price was still at the railing - in full, clear view, smoking. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel the flush tingle against your skin with embarrassment. 

An hour or so later, you were already asleep when Price came upstairs. His heavy footsteps pulled you from your slumber. He was pacing in his room, packing perhaps. You went to the bathroom and pulled open the door. Upon hearing you, he opened his as well.

“Hey,” you whispered, squinting from sleep. 

“Hey,” he was breathing heavily, dressed in nothing but the jeans and boots he had worn that day. 

The captain watched as your eyes feasted upon his skin, gazing longingly at his thick waist where his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off just a bit of hair from below his belt line. One of his giant hands gripped the door frame, high on the plank, stretching his chest into a sweeping display of muscle. His armpit, arms, and torso were covered in the thick, dark hair you had let your hands roam across last night during your joining, and you knew how it would feel to touch. 

Price slid his hand down the frame, making a slow scraping noise, stepping fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click, his icy eyes never leaving yours. 

He was enormous in the small space. His body was a powerhouse of visible strength. The meat of him hung heavy on his large bones, and he seemed, in the clean white tile of the bathroom, as if he was a specimen in some sort of display. Some museum exhibit, showing off, in sterile composition, the ideal form of Man. Built to fuck, to kill, to dominate the beasts of Eden from the lamb to the lion. Top of the food chain. 

Still a little shy from realizing you’d given his team quite the show earlier on the porch, you averted your gaze, turning toward the sink. Before you could run the water, he was behind you, quick, crowding your space exactly as he had on the porch.

He positioned himself behind you and, much more luridly this time, began to kiss and lick your neck, grinding himself into you as he did so, slipping a warm hand under your loose top, finding your soft flesh waiting for his touch. You could feel the roughness of his denim jeans through your cotton shorts, and the contrast between his soft, melting kiss and the hard, unforgiving feeling of him trying to fuck you through your clothes was too much to handle. Your body was trying to reconcile the two, splitting your thoughts, making you love-drunk on his ministrations. 

Price pulled off your shirt, raking it over your head, tossing it to the floor. He laced his hand through your hair and began to tug your head back, forcing you to look at yourself, bare to him, in the mirror. There was only the nightlight, more like a small Christmas bulb attached to a plug, so the room lacked any harsh contrast. Your bodies, your faces, the walls - everything began to swirl together, all colorized in the same, peachy glow. 

You felt his hands on your breasts, and you watched him touch you in the mirror. Seeing yourself being pulled and manipulated by such a large man was gratifying. His hands massaged into your softness, leaving warm trails on your skin, the tell-tale feeling of where he had touched and where he still had left to go. The captain saw himself in the mirror for the first time, then, looking up from leaving erotic kisses on your neck and shoulders. 

He sighed, locking eyes with you in the glass. That sigh trailed off into a groan, a ghost of the one he’d given you last night in the midst of his ecstasy. 

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he said in his lowest tone.

Suddenly, he was tugging at the button of his jeans and unzipping the fly, freeing himself and stroking his cock to attention using your plump ass. Through your flimsy shorts, you could feel the burning heat that radiated from him. Reaching behind you, his hardness fell into your palm and you watched the sensation crawl its way through his expression in the reflection. He gasped, resting his head against yours, whispering - yes, yes, yes - into your ear in a hiss through clenched teeth. 

John’s hand found your pantyline and pried it away from your skin with a confident finger, traveling down into your folds, searching for the swelling bundle nestled in the crest of your slit, rubbing it in long, loose ovals.

It wasn’t feverish; it was measured. His was the hand of a practiced man. As he worked, you joined him, rolling your wrist to rub his foreskin up and down in achingly long pulls, letting his wet head graze your skin as you teased him. The thick length was drooling with precome, and you could feel its stickiness on your palm. 

It didn’t take him long to find your particular rhythm, the one you used when staring at Pinterest photos on your phone of Keanu Reeves in his John Wick era; sweaty, bloody, and great with a gun. Price’s movements felt personal, like he’d read about what you wanted in your diary somewhere, as if he was in on the secret. It brought you to the summit very quickly, and he noticed the flush in your cheeks and breasts, only then increasing his intensity. 

You tried to continue to stroke him, but as you began to come in Price’s hand, you could only hold onto his cock, grasping it like the handle in a car driving too fast, careening downhill, rushing to its inevitable crash. 

“Yeah, love, come for me. Just like that, you gorgeous fucking thing,” he watched you tumble over the edge, crumpling in the mirror, reaching for him. 

“John! Please,” you cried.

You felt the tension burst inside of you like a mortar, hot and molten, pouring out of your core and into your body in waves of climactic pleasure. No one had ever made you come that hard, that quickly. It was hard for you to stand. Price steadied you, using his talented hand to hold you to him while you remembered your legs. 

Once you regained your senses, you removed your hand from him to pull down your shorts and panties, letting them pool at the floor beneath your feet. You returned to his cock, now swollen and throbbing, and fed it into you. Your come made his entry smooth and slippery, and he filled you up, your body celebrating his return.

He returned to his slow, grinding dance on the porch, thrusting himself into you rhythmically in aching, rolling motions. It was not the slamming pugilism of two people trying to find release. This was a concerted effort for him to fuck your walls into his memory, rubbing his dick along them to sense every ridge and sweet spot, and to find the ones that made you scream. 

When you let slip a desperate moan, he would pause, reflect, and return, hitting it again and again, watching you writhe and begging for him to help you.

“You feel so good in me,” you admitted, talking to him in the looking-glass. 

His eyes were full of mismanaged control, and his grip on reality was slipping, 

“Bloody beautiful. So warm and wet for me. Goddamnit, I’m not gonna last.”

But, he did. Your beast had stamina. He returned to your clit as he thrust in and out of you, dragging his fat cock through your body, ripping two more orgasms from your lips before he surrendered. 

You watched him come, crying out darkly in his reflection. He had pulled himself from you and was painting your generous ass cheeks with his load. The tacky fluid was searingly hot, and it ran down your skin in drips. 

You smiled, bending back to kiss him,

“Messy boy,” you chided playfully, a naughty tone in your voice. 

“Wanna clean you up,” Price sighed, satisfied and spent.

Do you want 30 more chapters of these two? Read "Gunslinger" here.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #gunslinger #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x you #price cod #price mw2 #cod price

[corpupine]

I've been doing a lot of thinking...and I feel like I need to scream this out somehow even though I'm sure it's been talked about before (and I'm putting it under a readmore because it gets long).

No matter what, in any playthrough you do and any timeline you create.

UNDERTALE is a game about guilt.

You have Toriel, so guiltridden she couldn't protect her own children that she devotes herself to never letting another child leave again. And then they do!! over and over again, that guilt compounds until it's the center of her life and every choice she makes!!

And obviously Asgore, so guiltridden that he couldn't protect his own children from humans that he spends the rest of his days trying to get out and get revenge on them--as if that will stop the voices in his head saying, if you had been out there with them you could have stopped it, you could have stopped those humans from killing your children, and maybe he could have!! Or maybe not!! He'll never know and it eats him from the inside out!

Alphys, oh my sweet summer child this fandom does not deserve you!! Alphys, so guiltridden from her own perceived failures as a scientist that she began to try anything, anything to make the King happy, and it seemed to be working at first, and then it was so everlastingly worse, how can you cause something worse than death?? without even trying??

And it shows up in little ways, silly ways, too! Ways you wouldn't even think about as guilt! Undyne! She feels guilty that she won't let Papyrus join the Royal Guard so she gives him cooking lessons instead! Papyrus feels guilty that he's not in love with you after one date so he'll "keep being your cool friend and act like this never happened!"

SANS MY BOI don't even get me started. His guilt isn't as physically obvious but he made a promise to toriel, he promised her he would keep the human safe, and in timelines where you save everyone he follows you pretty much all throughout the Underground (even if he doesn't do anything to help smh) because he'd feel guilty not doing it, and in timelines where you kill everyone he feels guilty for not stopping you, AND in those SAME timelines he feels guilty for stopping you because it means he's breaking his promise to Toriel to keep you safe I!!! This boy can fit so much cosmic guilt in him!!!!

Asriel! FLOWEY!! Do you ever wonder if he feels guilty about being the one to wake up again? The one to survive, when Chara had to die twice?? He sits at their grave and he will do anything, anything to drown out those thoughts so he befriends and kills and torments and it's all the same and it's all useless!!

And their guilt compounds each others'! Toriel makes Sans make that promise because of her own guilt, which increases his! Asgore's guilt is what pushes Alphys so far past the limits of ethical science, because he increases hers!

And all of this, all of this, ALL OF THIS pales in comparison to you!!!

You!! The player! You return to the Underground after maybe accidentally killing Toriel or a few others because you didn't know, you never wanted to hurt them!! You listen to Flowey and you come back and you save them all!

You! The player!!! You cry at the ending and you'd feel guilty, so guilty about letting them all go, wouldn't you? So you ignore Flowey's pleas to let it alone, and you come back again, you say hello to your dear friends but this time it isn't the same, this time you kill them all because you want to see everything this game has to offer, might as well get your money's worth, the fights are cool, right?? And then you get hit with the most unsatisfying atomic bomb of an ending and the only thing left is your own reflection staring back at you from the black screen of your computer as the horror dawns, what have you done???

YOU!!! The player! You go back again even though there is no Flowey left to tell you to, and you save them all again because I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, nobody deserves what I did to all of you, and it's all good, nobody remembers, and then you get to the end. The game knows what you did!!! It never forgot, and it'll make certain you never forget either!! Guilt!! Guilt, guilt!!! It's baked into the code of this game!!

Anyways tl;dr, maybe it actually did make sense to give this game to the pope

#undertale #unhinged ranting #sans #papyrus #flowey #others #ughgh so mentally unwell over this #like i'm sure other people have said this more eloquently but i am sobbing over this today #and i'm making that everyone else's problem