#it's not only about the eye color - you see

[nachojaehyun]

head so good, she a honor roll

pairing. idol wonu + new staff! fem! reader

summary. if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?

warnings. [PLEASE READ] oral (m), light throat fucking, messy/sloppy head, the best head he had EVER received, wonu wears glasses, teasing, he almost cries, mentions of past sexual encounters, THICK dick wonu, no gag reflex queen reader — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. jeon wonwoo, you genuinely deserve the best head in the universe. thank you for existing king.

wonwoo felt like he was going to pass out.

the tides of pleasure were overwhelming him, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit his lip to subdue his noises.

initially, he hadn’t thought much of you at all. when PD Na announced that a new staff member was joining the Seventeen crew, wonwoo could only clap and bow as you entered the room.

you were pretty— he’d give you that. your features were pleasant to the eye, and the thick framed glasses you adorned on your first day made him smile.

he was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who was batshit blind in the room.

you were his stylist. of course you had taken him to get his color analysis done, taken him to multiple stores across Seoul, brought him piles of clothes for performances and off duty days.

you were his stylist. of course you had seen him almost naked, but you had never bat an eye at him, only instructing him to “wear his clothes faster.”

you were his stylist. of course you had first hand experience in the most embarrassing encounter in jeon wonwoo’s career— you had seen his dick rip out from a pair of very tight slacks. you still remained stoic, carefully asking him to take his pants off as you went to search for another pair. he was red in the face, cock half hard as he tightly fisted the curtain of the changing room in shame.

you were his stylist. so why on earth were you sucking his cock like your life depended on it?

wonwoo swears he didn’t know how it happened. you had texted him half an hour ago that you were going to drop off some clothes at his apartment before his fitting tomorrow.

it was supposed to be a simple exchange— you would give him the bag and you would leave.

but of course he had his phone silenced and didn’t see your notification.

of course he was sitting on the living room couch, fisting his length in his hand as he tried to relieve the tension in his muscles from dancing for 4 hours straight.

of course he forgot to lock the door to his apartment while he was blatantly moaning like a whore—

here you were, mouth dragging along his tip as you looked up at him through your long lashes, glassy eyes blinking innocently. the bag of clothes you had brought to him was long discarded, laying limp on the floor near his coffee table.

the grey contacts you had on make wonwoo shiver, whimpering as your tongue swirled around his tip.

“fuck baby, quit playin,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he watched you down his cock like a champ. wonwoo’s glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose, lenses fogging up.

his hand reached out to fist your hair in a makeshift ponytail, mouth falling into a near pornographic growl as he felt your hands fondle his balls.

his cock was unbelievably thick. your jaw was nearly falling slack. however, the salty taste of his precum was far too addicting for you to care about your own discomfort.

you hollowed your cheeks, trying to feel every ridge and every vein that his pretty cock had to offer. you pulled him out of your mouth soon after, placing kisses along his side as you suckled on his tip.

your free hand came to jerk off his base, spitting onto his leaky tip to use as lube, adding more pressure as his eyebrows scrunched.

“ ’m close— hah!” he whined, tears coating his lashes as you took him in with no warning.

unable to hold himself back, wonwoo harshly yanked your head back, rolling his hips into your mouth. you moaned at his rough treatment, sending vibrations that tightened the knot in his stomach.

“shit shit shit!” wonwoo grunted, feeling his dick weigh down on your tongue that continued to lick and torture him while he used your mouth as his personal fleshlight.

you could feel him twitch inside you.

to give him the final push over the edge, you lazily dragged your freshly manicured nails gently against his balls, cupping the two as he emptied inside your mouth.

wonwoo’s hips stuttered as his thighs shook, feeling ropes of his cum spurt into your open mouth.

he pulled out slightly, jerking off to give you the rest of him. you simply sat on the floor, wagging your tongue, catching every drop of his seed. as soon as you swallowed his release without any question, wonwoo felt himself getting hard again.

wordlessly, you wiped your mouth of the drool that had dribbled past your lips. pushing your weight from your thighs, you glanced at your wristwatch before smiling.

“see you at 8 tomorrow, wonwoo-ssi. don’t be late.”

with that, jeon wonwoo watched you wave him goodbye and walk out the door.

his mind was blown as he breathed out softly, still coming down from the best orgasm he ever had in his life.

sure, he had been blown before. but most girls were too scared to keep him in for more than a few minutes, complaining that their jaw hurt from his sheer length and thickness.

but you? dear god, you and your perfect self never complained, silently taking his cock in your mouth. you didn’t care about your own pleasure, mind consumed by the man wearing glasses in front of you, shock written all over his features.

“fucking hell, what is she doing to me?” wonwoo groaned, fisting his once again hardened member as he begin to circle his tip with a thumb.

he felt sensitive from his last high, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene all over again— wondering how many positions he could bend you over in.

if only he knew that you were in your car, fingers curling inside your folds as you moaned out his name. his cock had moulded your throat.

click here for part 2

© nachojaehyun, 2024

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt #svt x reader #svt x you #nachojaehyun #seventeen hard hours #seventeen smut drabbles #seventeen drabbles #seventeen thoughts #svt hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #kpop

[lovebugism]

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer. 

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[foreingersgod]

could you write something about attending Caitlins game and sitting courtside and her dedicating each shot to you

All For You . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin dedicates all her shots to you <3

you’ve always attended your girlfriends games, only missing a rare few. watching her out on the court in her element made you feel so proud, you wouldn’t miss that feeling for the world. you constantly reminded her how amazing she was, on and off the court. that she was the most amazing player you’ve ever seen.

and she’d blush, hiding her face in your neck all while thanking you for coming to the game. ‘as if i’d voluntarily miss it’ you’d reply. she would tell you how much it actually meant to her, that you’d show up every time. just for her.

“i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you” is what she’d say, pressed up against you in bed after each game, running her fingers up and down your supple skin. “i hope you know that”

you’d shake your head, telling her no. because, to you, it was all her. the endless practices, the meltdowns of frustration that motivated her to keep going. that was all her doing, you were just here to support her.

caitlin understood that, yes, she’s put in a lot of hard work. but she couldn’t figure out why you would think you didn’t play a part in all this. if you weren’t there court-side every night, if you didn’t calm her down when she was frustrated, if you didn’t clean her up and nurse her back to health when she pushed it too far? she wouldn’t have all these titles and awards nor all the praise and attention.

so she took it upon herself to make you understand how much you truly have done for her.

she pledged to herself that every shot she took from this point forward, was devoted to you. caitlin had always kept you in mind when she scored, but every shot to her was just to get ahead. in reality, she discovered, she was really shooting for you. and she needed to show you that. you needed to understand that you were always on her mind, whether that be outside of the court or not.

it was a friday night, iowa was playing against lsu, and you were getting ready to leave the apartment. caitlin had left earlier in the afternoon for practice and warmups, and you let her know you’d be rooting for her somewhere in the crowd, just like you always did.

before you could make it to your front door, hands not even on the handle, your phone vibrated. pulling the phone out of your back pocket, a text from caitlin caught your eye.

cait <3: keep your eyes on me tonight, ok? want you to see something.

your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. what was she planning?

you: i always do, what are you up to this time?

cait <3: just trust me ;)

you chuckled to yourself, she was trouble.

you quickly realized you were late after being momentarily distracted by your girlfriend. snatching your bag and shoving your phone back into its pocket, you were out the door and headed to the arena.

they were just beginning introductions for the teams as you made your way to your seat. close enough to the floor that you could be easily spotted by your girl, but enough back that you weren’t front and center. the lights to the arena dimmed, colorful lights flashing and speakers booming as they called your girlfriends name. you watched as she stood from her seat and waltzed out onto the floor. she was glowing, hearing how her fans chanted her name as she hyped up the crowd. it warmed your heart to see her this happy.

before you knew it, the game was starting up. sneakers squeaked against polished wood as the girls defended the ball against lsu. they attempted a shot, missing it as caitlin rebounded the ball. she was slick on the court, gliding right past the opponents, dribbling the ball with ease. your eyes never left her figure like you were told.

you watched as she made it across the court. an lsu player, you have to admit, was doing an incredible job guarding her. but caitlin did what she does best. taking a large step back, almost to half court, caitlin took a deep shot against her defender. the entire crowd watched as the ball flew in the air, swishing straight through the net effortlessly. everyone erupted with chanting and applause, she was remarkable.

after her shot drained into the hoop, she turned to where you sat in the audience. you watched her closely, still clapping for her. she found you in an instant, locking eyes with you. she smiled and raised her hands, forming a heart with her fingers. she held in close to her chest then pointed to you, indicating that she made the shot for you. she mouthed a quick ‘for you’ to you up in the stands before catching up to her team on the other side of the arena. a flustered smile spread across your face as you watched her.

just when you thought she couldn’t get any better as a girlfriend or an athlete in general, here she was, dedicating shots to you.

as the game progressed and as iowa held onto a massive lead, caitlin kept blowing everyone away with her incredible shots. and each time, when the ball went through the net, caitlin isolated you from the crowd to make the same heart gesture. it was like clockwork and you’ll be honest, you never got tired of it. it made your heart swell to think that she was making those shots just for you.

once the clock buzzed and the game ended, you waited for the crowd to fizzle out before making your way down to the locker room. after each game you would wait on a small bench in the hall just outside and wait for caitlin to meet you. this night was no exception. you were perched on the bench, legs bouncing with anticipation to see your girl.

minutes went by until you heard the doors open with a click. your head snapped in its direction to see caitlin meandering over to you, an exhausted smile on her face.

“baby!” you cheered, running over to her and hugging her tightly “you were amazing as always, i’m so so so proud of you, cait!”

you pulled away from the hug and looked up to take in her appearance. she always looked so beautiful to you, no matter the sweat or grime or exhaustion. she was a work of art.

“thanks, babe” she leaned down to place a sweet kiss upon your lips.

“always” you pulled her in deeper as your arms draped around the back of her neck.

“how’d you like my new signature move?” you could feel her smile as she mumbled against your lips.

“oh my god” you laughed “i loved it, cait you definitely don’t have to do that for me!”

“the hell i don’t” she teased “i say it time and time again, you’re the reason i’m where i’m at today. the least i could do is dedicate my shots to you. it’s all for you.”

you could probably cry right there. the fact that she thought so highly of you, just for being her support, made you feel so special. caitlin had to be the most selfless person you’d ever met.

“i’m so lucky to have you” you said, hands falling down to her biceps where they gave a gentle squeeze “i love you so much, cait”

“i love you too” she replied “thank you for being with me through all this, i’m the one who’s lucky”

that night, you followed tradition. caitlin pressed up against you, the warmth of her skin soaking into your bare back. sheets draped over the two of you and your legs intertwined. her fingers skimmed over your arm, making you shiver. she whispered against the shell of your ear how much she loved you and reminding you once again that she wouldn’t be here without you. and while you still believed she didn’t give herself enough credit, you couldn’t help but smile when she reminded you just how much she loves you.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #foreingersgod

[dirtyyoungthing]

keys jingling, the door unlocks and opens. i hear your shoes hit the floor as you stomp through the house, your pace slowing as you find me in the living room. i’m coloring in that book you got me again, my feet kicking up and down slightly as i hum some pop song. you can see my cute printed underwear peeking out from under my short pink dress. i turn my head to look at you and smile that strawberry sweet way i know you love.

“hi dad!! how was your day?”

you huff and cross your arms. you’re in a bad mood. work must’ve been shitty. you look me over again, and it’s like i can see the idea light up behind your eyes. you step in front of me and sit on your haunches so you’re eye level with me.

“you wanna know how my day was baby?” you reach a hand forward and stick your thumb in my mouth as you cradle my chin with the rest of your hand. i nod a yes as i suck your thumb and smile. “you really wanna know? every dirty little detail?” i nod again excitedly. i love you. i love hearing about your day. you move to sit down fully on the ground, your legs spread apart. “c’mere then.” you take your thumb out of my mouth and smear the saliva over my lips before snatching a bit of my hair in your big strong hand, pulling me closer. i have to crawl on my hands and knees, like the baby i am.

once you have me close enough you unzip your pants and slide them down past your hips, exposing your underwear to me. “you wanna know how dad’s day was, sweetheart?”

you press my face suddenly to the crotch of your underwear and startle me so badly i yelp. i try to catch my breath, but my face is pressed so deeply into your crotch that i can’t get a bit of fresh air. i can only smell the musk and sweat of your cock through your boxers. i try to pull away, to properly breathe, but you hold me there.

“that’s right baby. struggle all you want, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” i whine and try to suck in another breath. “heh, thaaaat’s it. breathe deep, sweetheart. good girl.”

you take your cock fully out of your boxers and hold the shaft in your hand as you nuzzle my face into your balls. you groan as you start to jerk yourself off. “clean me up, babygirl. my day was so. fuckin’. long. and you’re gonna be a good little girl for dad and clean him up.”

“d-dad—!” you shut me up by slapping my cheek.

“put that fuckin’ mouth of yours to use, young lady.”

#jess.txt #fauxcest #cnc k!nk #fauxc3st #cnc free use #1cky princess #1cky daddy #1cky thoughts #scent kink #is that a thing? #sure

[salsasvault]

okay i know for a fact you have drafts your hiding something for us pretty please 🙏🏼

okay fine was debating posting this but

Babysitting

“Shh shh, okay, okay honey I got you.” You sway side to side rocking an almost 5-month-old in your arms. Trying to soothe her proved to be a harder task than you anticipated.

Your sister recently had a baby, and with the recovery and almost no alone time with her husband she all but begged for you to babysit.

You were somewhat reluctant, but with Simon on leave, and a soft spot for your niece, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to take care of her for a couple nights.

So here you were, at four in the morning, a lightly fussing baby in your arms as you heat a bottle in the kitchen. The city surrounding you provides just enough light to illuminate your apartment.

The gentle hum of the microwave proved to help both of you.

Busy with your task you didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open, or the footsteps that followed.

All Simon saw upon entering was the sight of you with a tiny baby in your arms.

His heart stopped in his chest, he’d only been gone 3 months, sure longer than normal but not long enough to produce-this.

Flabbergasted he did the math, retried it, and thought of every possibility but it all came to a grinding halt at the sound of your voice cooing to an almost smaller version of you.

You looked so perfect, rocking her just right, grabbing the bottle, testing the warmth, so incredibly attentive to her needs.

With you busy it seemed the baby had noticed him.

Wide eyes, the same color as yours looking back at him. Her fussing stopped for a second, entirely enamored with the strange man standing almost in the shadows.

The lack of babbling or crying caught your attention, turning your head toward whatever had encapsulated her-

“Simon! You didn’t tell me you’d be home early.”

Setting the bottle down, baby still in your arms, you made your way over, half hugging him.

It took him a second before he was wrapping his alarms around you and the 5-month-old.

“Didn’t know myself-who…who’s this lovie?” Thumb going to touch her cheek, you turn, looking at him, realization coming to you.

“My sister Si, remember she had a baby a few months ago, this is her.” Your voice slightly goes up in pitch toward the end, directed toward the baby.

“Gave me a scare.” The baby grappled onto his finger.

“I bet.” You snort in laughter.

“Strong grip on this one.” He laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, you're a strong girl aren’t you.” You redirect your attention, and Simon can’t help but stare.

“Yeah, you are.” You kiss her face and look back toward Simon. “You like Uncle Simon don’t you, yeah you do look at that smile.”

His heart warmed, he hadn’t been referred to as uncle in a long time. He couldn’t help but think, think about what this would be like. 

He’d never given it much thought, always assumed he’d be a shit father, but the way you were so in your element.

He’d give everything to see you happy, and your niece already resembled so much of you, what would your baby look like? A baby made from the two of you.

His mouth opened before his rational could catch up.

“You want o’ these?” He almost facepalms right there.

“One of these?” You immediately burst into laughter.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” You look back down at the baby in your arms and smile wide.

“I-“ You pause, “I think so.” It sounds unsure, and as you hold her in your arms you can’t help but warm to the idea more.

“You know what, I think I want one of these.” You beam up at him.

“Then let’s go make one of these ‘eh.” He looks at you, and you look right back at him.

“Simon! Not in front of the baby!” You jokingly cover her ears, both of you retreating toward the kitchen.

“Wha’ s’not like she knows what I mean.” You smack him, just for good measure, and your niece laughs in response.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #fluff #simon riley fluff #selias drables #selias asks

[mariasont]

The Receptionist - S.R

a/n: i need this man on an astronomical level actually

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x receptionist!bimbo!reader

summary: spencer meets the new receptionist for chief cruz

warnings: fluff

wc: 0.8k

The click-clack of your polished nails on the keys mingled with the sharp pops of bubblegum as you focused on lining up Chief Cruz's appointments in the system. Taking a pause, you pulled out your notebook encased in pink frills from your drawer, and delicately turned its pages to reveal the week's agenda.

With the appointment freshly noted, you let your pen waltz around the margins, leaving behind a trail of doodles. With a subtle shift, you crossed your legs, the shiny pink heels tapping together, their color complementing the delicate fabric of your skirt.

You traced another heart around the date, and just then, a soft voice hesitantly broke the silence, "Excuse me?"

You looked up to find a pair of curious hazel eyes framed by brown curls that almost seemed to be begging to be touched, and his lips, which held a shy smile made your heart do a summersault. I mean, come on, what are these FBI guys made lab-grown or something?

He was draped in a form-fitting vets over a neatly pressed shirt, his sleeves were rolled up just so, in a way that paused your movements freeze and coaxed a heat to spread across your cheeks. Well, hello there.

He seemed briefly caught off-guard, his eyes flickering over your pink-themed workspace, a distinct departure from the former receptionist's subdued setup. He was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things that now occupied the space.

With an enthusiastic bounce, you popped up from your seat, beaming brightly.

"Oh, hi there! How can I help you?" Gently straightening your skirt, you offered a hand, your name rolling off your tongue, "Are you here for Chief Cruz?"

The man's touch was soft against your palm, his attention caught by the soft clinking of your delicate bracelets, while your nails, painted a meticulous shade of pink that matched the color of your shirt, settled against the back of his hand.

"Spencer Reid," he introduced. "I have an appointment with Chief Cruz regarding a specialized training session for new recruits."

His gaze held yours a tad too long, cataloging the details of your appearance--the brightness of your eyes, the soft curve of your lips, the radiant glow of your skin.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your face.

"You're the famous Dr. Reid! I've heard a lot about you," you remarked, a giggle accompanying your words as you eased back into your seat, giving a quick, knowing glance at your calendar. "Ah, here you are. I'll let Chief Cruz know you're here. He's currently in a meeting, but it shouldn't be too much longer."

As you pretended to focus on the screen, your mind raced. Dr. Reid--the genius with multiple PhDs, and now, the man who stood before you, unexpectedly  drop-dead handsome.

It was a challenge to maintain professionalism, especially when every fiber of your being yearned to do nothing but drink in his appearance. I mean, you were only human.

"Just Spencer is fine," he offered with an easy smile. "Where's Mrs. Henderson?"

You were beautiful to say the least, not at all what he was expecting to see when he walked in this morning, quite the difference from the former receptionist, whose age had been marked by the hard candies she offered.

"Oh, she retired last month!" you said with a bright smile. "So now, Chief Cruz is stuck with me!" Leaning in, chin cradled by your hands, you gaze at him incredulously. "Three PhDs, huh? That's, like, beyond Einstein-level smarts, isn't it?"

Spencer's cheeks tinged with a hint of color as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Well, not quite," he admitted with a modest shrug. He then glanced around the office before his eyes settled back on you. "How are you finding the job here so far?"

"Impressive, yet so modest," you commented. Standing up, you clicked print on the computer. "And it's great, I really love it here. I mean, it's not as thrilling as chasing down bad guys, I'm sure, but I think I'll stick to what I'm good at."

As you made your way to the printer, Spencer interjected. "No, I got it."

He returned with the papers, handing them to you with a gentle smile. 

"Thanks," you said, taking the papers. "So, you do that profiling thing right?" You tapped a finger against your lips, pretending to ponder. "Let's see... I'm guessing you're a Libra, aren't you? Probably born in early October, I'd say."

"What gave it away?"

You flashed a wink, the pop of your bubblegum punctuating the air. "I may have taken a sneak peek at your file."

With a light-hearted laugh, Spencer revealed a smile so grand it seemed to light up the entire space and you couldn't help but smile in response. You liked his smile, a lot. 

Spencer's response was cut short by the ring of the phone. You quickly answered as the great receptionist you are.

"Okie dokie, sir, I'll send him right back!" You listened for a second, then replied with a giggle. "No, thank you, sir!" You turned to Spencer, your smile wide, "He's ready for you!"

"Thanks," Spencer said with a nod, "It was great to meet you." He took a few steps towards Chief Cruz's office before pausing and turning back. "You know, maybe I should give you my number. For work purposes, in case you have questions or need help with anything."

You nodded eagerly, your smile reaching from ear to ear. "Absolutely, for work purposes."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Spotify

[faetreides]

　 　╰ • ❀ - ❛happy birthday, mr. emperor!❜ ✦

cw: afab reader, daddy kink, pretend it’s april 19th, implied painal sorry for writing an anakin that would love jane eyre too much, bondage mention, dark themes, implied age gap, blowjob

“I wish you could see how the stars I made shine for you, angel.”

Last night Anakin had tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, silently chuckling when it sprung back to smack you in the face. Your nose scrunched in that bunny-esque way he loves, and he whispered against your cheek that he loved you before departing your home. As soon as you heard the door swoosh shut behind him, a bright smile beamed across your face as you sprung out of bed and began preparing. You’d gotten better at pretending to be asleep, or maybe he’s just humoring you.

It took you hours to set up your husband’s surprise stay at home birthday celebration. His job as the Emperor of the Galaxy drains the life out of him even on his good days, so you do what you can to ease the tension however possible. Today is the day in which you put your heart and soul into adoring the love of your life. It wasn’t hard to decide on this kind of party. You’re more of the long distance vacation person in the relationship, and Anakin would gently scold you about how it wouldn’t be safe to even leave the palace most of the time.

You hum a catchy tune, looking in the mirror to make sure that the bow in your hair is tied perfectly. You picked a satin fabric that matches the color of Ani’s eyes, and a part of you can’t deny that the decision was motivated by the desire to see his jaw clench in possessiveness. The little thrills you manage to witness get you through the days inside. You do some last minute twirls, glancing over your outfit and ignoring the slight discomfort of the silk ropes underneath.

Your slippers slap against the floor all the way to the dining room. The servants had already been dismissed for the day as soon as your husband had left, something else that you wouldn’t mind getting a ‘thorough scolding’ for. You know Anakin just doesn’t like for you to ever feel the need to lift a single finger if he can help it, but it’s only fair that you be the best spouse you can be on his special day.

All the food lining the long rectangle shaped table is Ani’s favorite, painstakingly put together and placed in an arrangement by your own hands. You haven’t slept in what feels like forever, but it’ll all be worth it to see how happy this will make him. Like always, you don’t care to delve into how slick your pussy gets at the thought of his approval. Even a small grunt of acknowledgement when he’s distracted drives you wild.

After making sure that absolutely everything is in the proper place, cheesy decorations strung up all over the place included, you smooth your clothes down with your palms flat and wait in the bedroom. You hope he appreciates how restrained you’ve been since he’s been gone, the tempatation to hump your puffy folds against the pillow he lays his head on is still on your mind. Anakin usually wakes you up by licking a flat stripe up your cunt under the covers and hooking his fingers in your hole to stretch it enough for him to spit in, always already naked from the night before. Like a cat kneading the surface it’s walking on, you could cry at being deprived of grounding yourself by burying your shaking hands in his soft hair.

Your excitement must bleed into the Force somehow, because you hear the heavy stomps of boots sooner than you thought. You scramble to meet your husband at the door, remembering how he once admitted that he likes to hear how happy you are to see him when he gets back. The cat never fails to return to check on the canary, and when it eats the stubbornly cheerful thing it doesn’t have to. It knows exactly where the bird is, and always will be.

You don’t even wait for him to get out of his armor and into his more casual attire that he likes to lounge around in at home. As soon as you see your favorite crow’s feet wrinkles revealed by the silver door, you pounce.

With very little effort, you reach up and push the top of your outfit off your shoulders. Anakin’s darkened gaze follows the truthfully skimpy garment as it falls to pool around your ankles. Your cheeks burn and you pray that he’ll take his time admiring you but no such luck, his eyes quickly flick up to see the start of a series of clumsily tied loose silk knots. The holonet tutorial you followed was sort of confusing, but you thought you managed to pull it off in the end!

“Fuck, look at you, bunny.” He groans, prowling around you in a slow circle. “All this for some boring old man?”

“Hey, ‘s not nice…” You wring your hands together, wiggling your plump ass for him as he makes his rounds. “You’re MY boring old man, Ani.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?” You giggle despite the warning look he’s giving you.

The heat in his gaze feels like flames licking at your spine, but you don’t push him any further. You would never want him to have a stressed induced heart attack. Your unspoken jab makes you giggle again until you realize that Anakin could peek into your mind whenever he pleases.

The sudden slap to your rear doesn’t surprise you, nor do the frenzied squeezes. He loves to watch the skin bulge out between his thick fingers, he loves your fat ass period. The blush pink ribbons were tied together in a way that you knew would enhance your curves, putting enough pressure on your plush ass and tits in particular to really make them pop. Your thighs were nothing to forget about, though, you know better than to assume that Ani doesn’t love every bit of his baby equally.

He circles back around to face you and grins. He adjusts his cock in his pants, not taking his eyes off fof you for even a second, “So fuckin’ gorgeous, honey. And here I was about to say that the best thing I could receive is waking up to you every day.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Happy Birthday.” You purr, sinking to your knees and winding your arm around his thigh, nuzzling into the seam of his pants like you were searching for something.

He ‘tsk’s above you but he sighs and waves his hand in the air, summoning an emerald green cushion to slide under your knees before you hit the floor. That pillow didn’t exist in the beginning of your relationship, but you’ve ended up loving being like this so much that it became a necessity.

Anakin groans as you mouth at his bulge over his slacks, wetting the fabric with your kitten licks to his tip. He settles a heavy palm on top of your head and gives you a couple pats. Neither of you are in any rush, both enjoying your dynamic in a more sensual way. Ani loves how cock drunk you already seem to be, the tension in his body just melts away when he can see how much you’re salivating over your mind going blank.

“You can’t go dumb on me, Angel, I haven’t even got my present yet.” He teases you and grins when you mewl distractedly.

You’re trying really hard to pay attention, promise, but you couldn’t ignore your husband’s natural musk if you tried. “ ‘ngh- hah… ‘Sorry, Daddy.”

Then you remember that you can’t spend the rest of your life on your knees (you wish), so you sheepishly wipe the drool from your mouth. You have trouble getting hold of the zipper, your fingers being too wet to properly pull it. Your embarrassment is short lived, because Anakin is using the Force to undo it and slide his pants down far enough to free his throbbing length.

You pout in disappointment when it doesn’t flop out to smack you across the face. In no time at all you’re slobbering all over his cock.

You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband, hollowing out your cheeks and humming periodically. You can’t help the satisfied grin that comes over you whenever you get a deep groan or grunt in response. Your mouth makes ‘slurp!’ sounds as you suck him off, a sharp ‘pop!’ going off when you pull the suction away to trace the veins on the underside of his curved cock. Precum beads to the surface but they’re swiftly licked away, you outright make out with the thick tip of his dick for a good minute.

Anakin would tease you for how much of a bitch in heat you’re being, but he’s no better when he wriggles his tongue fucking either of your holes. He’d call you that with love though, he’ll never forget how grateful he is to still have you after everything.

“My consort loves their dick, huh? Should I even ask if you’ve prepped your ass?” He asks and you smother your smile in his balls as you lavish them in your saliva.

“Good bunny.” Anakin sighs, balling his fist up in your hair. “Daddy knows you like it when it hurts, angel.”

And you do, even with the dried cum around the corners of your mouth and the tears spilling over. You’re smiling in between gasps of breath with every heavy thrust, you send a thought into the Force of concern over the state of Ani’s joints and you squeal when he speeds up. He hadn’t even bottomed out yet, your puffy rim was already red enough from his bullying the blunt head past your entrance.

You sob and let your mouth hang open, staring off into space as you feel his length cleave your insides in two. The kisses dotted all over your face help soothe you, but you still pant and dig your nails into his wrist on the side of your head caging you in. Anakin’s other hand kneads one of your ass cheeks, giving you more quick pats when he think you’re getting too worked up.

Some of the ribbons wrapped around your body have been destroyed, either by Anakin’s irritation when he wanted more access or by how amateurish your knot tying skills were. The ones around your ass are still intact, and you do your best to shake your ass against the remaining inches sinking inside your puckered hole, wondering if Ani can pick up on the shimmer of the ropes in the dim light.

He’s a good man, your Ani, he only lets it hurt on special occasions. If you rub up on him really nicely, ruining your ass goes outside of those occasions. It’s his birthday, why not let him play with his favorite toy how he wishes? You take pride in the leash you have around his every waking and slumbering desire, he has the same hold on you.

At the end, the universe will only know the carnage Darth Vader left in his wake. Long dead twin suns will singe the memory of Anakin Skywalker and his lover into the fabric of reality.

#this work is queued #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin star wars #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen smut #⚰️.deaddove #yandere themes #star wars #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #tw age gap #tw daddy kink #hayden x reader #yandere smut #male yandere smut #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere x reader smut

[ssweeterthanfiction]

So High School

high school boyfriend!finnick odair…

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who’s liked you since the first day of middle school but only found the confidence to ask you out in 9th grade.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who was all smiles when he found out he had 3 classes with you plus lunch. (He made sure he was sitting next to you in those classes.)

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who tries to make you laugh at any given chance, and when he does it makes his heart leap.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who notices that you start showing up to his practices. He sees you sit on the outdoor bleachers and read while he’s at lacrosse practice.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who walks you home afterwards and has the biggest smile on his face while he walks back home.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after talking for a while, nervously asks you out to a pizza date. (He’s exploding with happiness when you say yes.)

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after 3 dates, (one pizza date, one library date, and one movie date) finally asks you out by asking if he can be your boyfriend.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who feels like crying when you say yes.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves walking you to class, holding your books and your hand.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who introduces you to his family, but his mom already knows everything about you since he never stops talking about you.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves going to your house or to the library afterschool to watch you read and do your homework. He loves the way you get frustrated when you don’t get something right the first time, he wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses to make you feel better.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who adores it when you come to his games wearing his spare jersey or hoodie with his number. He calls you his number one cheerleader and kisses you after every game.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who spends every winter break with you and buys you the new set of books you’ve been wanting for Christmas. He also spends new years with you and of course, kisses you at midnight.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who also spends everyday of every summer vacation with you. Whether it’s at the park, the beach, your house, his house, the movies, the pool, he’s always with you. He even spends the 4th of July watching fireworks with you.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who asks you out to the prom by having his teammates, your classmates and your friends hold out flowers for you to collect while you walk towards him. He holds a sign saying “I would be Enchanted to take you to prom” He’s all smiley when you say yes.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who needs absolutely no convincing for whatever color you choose for your dress and his suit. Anything to make his girl happy.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who freaks out as graduation nears.

He’s lying in your arms as you read. But then the thought of graduation and college comes to his mind. He calls out your name, you put down your book.

He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Finn? What’s wrong?”

“What…what are we gonna do next year?”

You look at him with a confused look. “What are you talking about Finn?”

He sits up straight. “When we go away for school. What are we gonna do?”

His voice is shaky and you can already see the tears spilling out of his eyes.

“You aren’t going to leave me are you?”

You shake your head and hug him.

“No Finn…no. I would never dream of leaving you.” you whisper softly to him.

“You mean that?”

“Course I do. I’ve loved you for 4 years…and I know I’ll love you for more Finn. We’ll figure something out.”

He kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I love you sweet girl. Forever.”

Needless to say, you and Finnick go long distance and spend every break together. You both even get your own place together in the city after you graduate. And he definitely plans on marrying you. He just needs to wait til the eras tour to make it magical for you.

this has been in my head for so long so i needed to write it out so my head wouldn’t explode :P

#Spotify #finnick fluff #finnick x y/n #thg finnick #finnick x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair

[aetherdoesthings]

would you like some cake? (pt 2)

forethoughts: if you want to read part one it's would you like some new toys :D. i'm literally going to go home in a few hours and pull for arlecchino i'm so excited so happy so on adrenaline i can't ahhhh

notes: gn!child!reader, but fem!reader in mind. NOT AN X READER, READER IS A CHILD!!!

You don’t remember when was the last time you stepped foot in the playroom again. Father said she would take you to a different playroom, away from the others. You spent every day in that new playroom with Father. Father always gave you an option to go back. The door was always wide open. Distant sounds of the other children laughing and cheering rang in your ears. 

Father said you were getting better day by day. Much more used to your new toys. Father even allowed you to bring your toys with you everywhere. One inside your boots, one strapped to your belt. Father even allowed you to bring one to your room. 

Your room. Instead of the room you shared with the others, Father had moved you. Closer to her office. You have your own room now. Father had decorated it herself, she said. The mattress felt like three of the mattresses in your old room stacked upon each other. The room made you feel tiny. Alone. But Father was always there. Father was always with you.

Father said you were almost as skilled as the guards that stood outside the orphanage. 

Father was proud.

Father was proud of you.

Father always read you bedtime stories. Tucked you in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning off the lights. Father always taught you to not listen to what the other children said. That the only person you should be listening to is her and yourself. 

You don’t remember when was the last time you felt eyes casted on you and words piercing your heart when you ate your meals. You still ate your meals in the hall with the other children; Father was adamant that you would still have some interaction with the others. But you didn’t care. 

Father made sure you knew your worth. 

~

Using your chopsticks, you fished up a bundle of noodles, putting it in your spoon and then in your mouth. You chewed, and then fished up another bundle of noodles. The children behind your back were loud and rowdy as usual. Father said to pay no mind to them. This time was different.

They were talking about Father.

It was Father’s birthday tomorrow. 

Father was always secretive and didn’t reveal much about herself. They were planning on surprising her with a big party in the playroom. Of course, you weren’t part of it.

Father was always there for you, you thought. Never shy from giving you gifts and words of advice on the days you needed them. 

You stood up from your seat, carrying your empty udon bowl to the sinks, giving it a quick rinse before putting it on the racks. You walked out of the hall, letting your feet take you where your mind wanted to go.

You closed the door to your new room, taking a seat behind your desk as you took out two sheets of paper, and some crayons Father had gifted you. While the rest played and had fun, you were in your room, scribbling away as best as you could with your black crayon. With your second piece of paper, you took out more colors from the box.

Father was always there for you.

You’d be a bad kid if you didn’t do the same, right?

The other’s idea of a celebration was tricking Father to go to the playroom, then cheering and singing happy birthday to Father while they played with Father. That meant that Father was unavailable to give you your daily lessons on how to properly play with your new toys. Fortunately you were busy too.

You entered the kitchen the moment you heard everyone else chant happy birthday in all different keys, the wide empty space with high workstations and cabinets sending doubt into your head. You shook it away, closing the door behind you with two hands, before taking a small tour around the space you would work with. Seeing that dinner was just served, all the cooks were done, leaving you a window of time to carry out your plan. Using a nearby stepping stool, you climbed onto the counters, reaching the high cabinets that were attached to the roof. Just as fate intended it to be a cooking book fell onto your lap, flipped to the page you wanted to go on. You closed the cabinet door, placing the cooking book by your side as you placed your boots on the stepping stool. 

Father said you were good at looking for what you needed.

Father said you were good at doing what you wanted to do.

You prayed Father was right.

With the big book set on one counter, you scurried around the kitchen, gathering all the required ingredients and items you needed next to the book. You found two more stepping stools, allowing you to move around on each stool like different stations. 

Father said your academic level was higher than the rest; you were doing exams meant for ten year olds.

“Pour… flour… in a bowl…” You muttered, finger on each word. You did as the instructions said, scooping out some flour and dumping it into a bowl.

“Egg…Sugar…Mix… Bake…”

For the rest of the day, you buried yourself in work, making what they called a ‘batter’. You had nearly dropped your hard made batter when you had to place the mold inside the oven, a new lesson learnt the hard way. After as much time as the book said, you took the mold out, this time wearing the funny shaped gloves on top of the counter next to the oven. With all your strength, you lifted the baked circular batter into a cart, before wheeling the cart back to your workstation. As the batter was baking, you had prepared a frosting, as they called it. Using a flat rectangle shaped object that had its corners rounded out, you spread the frosting over the top of the cake, before adding a fresh cherry to the top. 

The celebration had stopped. 

You heard Father’s voice tell the children it was time for bed. You gripped onto the counter, trying not to get shaken by the earthquake created by the hoard of orphans storming up to their room. Holding your breath, you waited until you couldn’t hear Father’s footsteps anymore, before letting out a sigh. You placed your finished cake on a pretty plate, using two hands to hold each side before exiting the kitchen.

~

You let out a deep breath, looking at the gold and crimson ornate double door in front of you. With the papers in your pocket, cake in hand, you used your shoulder to turn the doorknob, stumbling into Father’s office. 

“Y/N?” Father. You turned around, facing Father. Father was behind her desk, hand moving from her forehead to her chin as she looked at you with a playful grin. Since your back was still turned to her, she couldn’t see the cake you made.

“I was worried sick about you, my dear. I didn’t see you at the celebration the others held for me.” Father chuckled. “Where were you? Not even the caretakers or workers could find you.”

You opted to not answer her question, rather hobble your way over to Father’s desk with your little legs. You placed your creation on the same place Father had set you when you got injured. Father looked at the cake, her eyebrows raised as she tried to conceal the grin that was spreading on her face. She pointed at the candle that was stabbed into the cake next to the cherry with her index finger, and the wick was instantly lit on fire. 

“U-Umm…. I overheard it was Father’s birthday… so I wanted to do something special for Father…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you tried to maintain eye contact with her. “I-I made you a cake. I t-tried my best. Would Father care to try my cake?”

Father let out a chuckle, looking at you with a soft and warm gaze. “You made a cake? All for me?”

“I-I wrote a c-card too…” You pulled the card and the second piece of paper out of your pocket, placing it next to the cake.

“Y/N… I…” Father chuckled, the corners of her mouth reaching her eyes. You’d never seen her look at you like this. Yes, she was always happy and cheerful. But never this much. Even as she tried to conceal it, you had spent enough time with her to know that she was feeling much more than a simple grin. 

“Of course I would love to try your cake.” Father took the fork that was placed next to the cake, digging out a portion of your creation before putting it in her mouth. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer in her eyes. She took another bite, nodding her head and smiling at you.

“D-Does Father like it?” You asked with a worried tone. 

“I love it, my dear.” Father hummed, forking out another chunk of your cake, putting the fork in front of your mouth. “Why don’t you try your own creation?”

“But it’s Father’s cake.”

“I insist.”

“O-Okay.” You wrapped your mouth around the fork, chewing on the cake you made. A smile crept on your face as you swallowed the bite. Thank the gods you had actually made food and not poison.

“Come here, my child.” Father patted on her laps. You walked around her desk, climbing on her laps as you looked up at her. She continued to spoon feed herself and you, wiping away any crumbs on your lips with her finger.

“H-Happy Birthday, Father.” You exclaimed.

“Thank you, my dear Y/N.” Father smiled at you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I loved it, my little cook. This was the best birthday present ever.”

You could feel serotonin rush through your body. “R-Really?”

“Yes! Why would I ever lie to you, my dear?” Father hummed. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday gift, my dear.”

~

Arlecchino sat on her chair, a sigh exiting her mouth as she looked at the card you had written, as well as the piece of paper. She had read a quick bedtime story to you, tucking you into bed before going back to her office. Arlecchino opened the letter, as the words entered her heart, fueling that flame of hers she carried and protected.

“Father,

haqqy dirthbay. I hoqe you hab a goob bay anb are haqqy. thank you for everything you bo for me. i really like my new toys.

Y/N.”

#genshin impact #arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x reader #the knave #child #aetherwrites

[ot9snumber1]

masterpiece

artist!son chaeyoung x reader

summary: sana's curious about that painting hung on your wall

warnings: pure smut, fucking on the canvas, implied poly!sachaeng x reader

notes: "quick blurb" to celebrate chae's day that turned into a short fic! dedicated to @nr1chaedickrider of course <3

—

you notice that sana had been staring off into the distance, her hand constantly swirling the wine as the gears turn in her head.

you follow her gaze, looking back to see chaeyoung's newest painting. to anyone else, it was unintelligible. the colors were splashed together in an almost unharmonious way, creating ugly browns in the midst of bright pinks and yellows.

to you, it was chaeyoung's greatest act of love.

"is that chaeyoung's new painting?" she asks, crossing one leg over the other. you nod, feeling the excitement creep up your neck at the thought of her figuring out what it meant. you didn't need to explain it, really, sana was a smart girl.

"looks nice." she smiles knowingly, finally sipping her drink. "you must have really inspired her." sana adds, her expression teasing. you laugh.

"you could say that, yeah."

—

chaeyoung's careful not to get any paint on her hand, making sure the lower half of your body doesn't either.

one hand is on your boob, massaging gently as she continues to push her tongue inside of your mouth. "fuck—chae—" you groan, making her smile as her fingers slowly run along your folds.

"yeah, baby, keep moving like that." chaeyoung whispers against your ear, smile growing devilish as you continue to squirm around the canvas. you aren't sure how your back hasn't hurt from the rough texture—you'd guess it was the wet paint saving you. (though, you hated how it was definitely going to dry in your hair later.)

chaeyoung's fingers slowly enter your pulsing core, slow and steady just to watch you get desperate. "shit—faster!" you breathe out, paint–covered hands reaching up to grab chaeyoung's shoulders. she didn't care if you'd leave colorful stains on her skin, it was just part of her artistic process.

she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, eyes hungry and tongue poking out as she quickens the flicks of her wrist. "anything for you, baby. just keep moving like that, yeah?" she hums, knowing her words fall on deaf ears as your eyes roll back from the feeling of her cold ring graze your entrance with every thrust.

chaeyoung doesn't tease you today. she doesn't make you beg, nor does she degrade you like she usually did. this was more than having you writhe under her—it was her sharing her greatest passion with her greatest love.

she only observes, holding your waist with one hand while the other continues to fuck you good. she's bordering on being rough, her moves were almost calculated. chaeyoung knew you like the back of her hand. she knew exactly how to get you to squirm as much as the painting needed you to.

you don't even have to tell her that you were close, the way your grip tightened on her shoulders and how your teeth caught your bottom lip was enough. "that's my girl." she smiles tenderly as her fingers curl inside you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body as you ride out your high.

her pace slows down as she peppers gentle kisses all over your face, slowly rubbing your thighs with her other hand.

"five minutes and it's your turn to paint." chaeyoung whispers, pulling you up to sit.

you turn around to see that the canvas was only half–colored. the other half was reserved for chaeyoung's body to come undone on.

you smile excitedly, grabbing chaeyoung's cheeks and kissing her.

—

"i helped her with it."

"i can tell." sana replies. you were both standing in front of the painting now, each and every 'stroke' clear to her eyes.

she clears her throat, turning to you.

"you should tell chae to invite me next time. i'm really good at painting, y'know?" she whispers, hand on your ass.

it was a death wish for you, you think. you could hardly handle them one at a time, much less the two of them fucking you hard enough just so you'd move around the canvas.

it didn't sound like a terrible idea, though.

"i'll keep that in mind."

#son chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung x reader #son chaeyoung smut #twice smut #twice imagines #son chaeyoung imagines

[krushedstars]

PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

‧₊˚ ┊synopsis ... in a world where your soulmate is chosen by you, you wanted to be sure you would be happy as you delve into the complex webs of love.

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... geto x gn!reader, gojo x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊au! ... soulmates, college. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... fluff, angst. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 5.1k. ‧₊˚ ┊cole's note ... yes, the uni bits were based on my personal experience, ignore that and enjoy ur reading ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person's own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – and all the gods knew this. And as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What else to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had for having managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity; the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Gojo placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Gojo raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Geto was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I'm sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Geto looked at Gojo for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette's lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Geto spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Have you received your card yet?”

Gojo's question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his blue eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Geto sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Geto died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Geto raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun's rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends' conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Geto looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Gojo, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Geto to Gojo. “Ready for the test?”

Gojo put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Gojo's outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Geto and Gojo on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Gojo gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Geto a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Geto spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Geto set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Gojo’s hair. “Well, I'm going now. See you later.”

Geto followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn't leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.” Geto repeated it again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Geto grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Gojo followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Gojo’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for his notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Geto didn't say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, the brunette turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Gojo nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend's bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Geto, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Geto which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn't notice as the hours passed; Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Geto and Gojo disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Geto's bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work and in the sky, between the soft clouds and the dark blue expanse, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Geto stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Geto felt tired. Totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong, no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Geto, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Geto had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn't understand why, but you had a power over him; like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn't even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Geto had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order food?”

Gojo straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting his sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Geto stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I'm going to order some food and I'll take the opportunity to call Shoko to ask her for the texts for tomorrow.”

Gojo didn't answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Gojo saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Gojo fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Geto to return.

Gojo was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquility in the mess of others; Gojo's slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn't stop Gojo from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page; it was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed; but Gojo noticed, Gojo realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Geto's desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Gojo's point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Geto had just received his card.

Gojo leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Geto's room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Geto had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Gojo's eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Gojo's actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Gojo did, everything he thought.

But Gojo continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Geto's voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just made.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Geto was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Geto faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Geto couldn't be happier at that moment. That day, it seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to link Geto's path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Geto arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Geto approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Geto,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate. Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Geto to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Geto, you couldn't help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel at least the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Geto handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

Y/N 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn't received your card yet, but you didn't care. In so many years of life, you have never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card; but that didn't mean you weren't expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other; but that didn't mean you didn't want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Geto’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Geto, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Geto confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Geto let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Geto as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can't explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me change. It's hard to explain, but it's as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Geto's words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Geto's confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague's frankness.

Would it be true? All the words Geto said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn't care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Geto space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Geto, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Geto with amusement.

“I will invite you until you say yes.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You wouldn't go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Geto would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn't explain what it was, you couldn't explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Geto.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Geto stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Geto said hadn't crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Geto, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Geto looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Geto.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Geto, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn't understand the nature of that something. What was it? How had it come about? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Geto?

Yes. You could ignore it. Just take yourself in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn't explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn't know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren't ready.

“I'm waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Geto let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Geto's hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t you dare!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Geto looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn't you feel your connection? Didn't you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Geto's voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Geto. “I just want to be sure.”

Geto looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Geto's words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness, wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Geto’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Geto got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Geto's hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city's flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Geto watched you enter your home, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn't even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

The white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality. You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands. Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

S.G.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You abruptly pulled Gojo into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“What…”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Gojo's words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Gojo, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Gojo with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe…”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Gojo, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Gojo's blue eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Gojo quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

S.G. 2430.1872

“I can explain…”

“I don't believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Gojo, who now had a look of determination that didn't match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Gojo approached you, the card held in one of his hands, his sunglasses almost falling off his head. “You like him. It's noticeable! The way you look at him, the way you shine when you're with him. You…"

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Gojo's hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It's you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Gojo was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep yours…”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Gojo laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and taking off the glasses that made him feel weird. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Gojo in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Gojo looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Gojo irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Geto entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Geto's eyes jumped from you to Gojo. He was confused, he didn't understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Geto hadn't been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.” Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Gojo.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Geto started to get nervous. What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles, how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

#garden of jjk 𐙚₊‧₊˚ #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #getou x you #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you #geto x y/n #getou x y/n #geto suguru x y/n #getou suguru x y/n #geto imagines #getou imagines #geto oneshot #getou oneshot #getou drabble #geto drabble #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo angst #getou fluff #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[murfeelee]

Aquatic INSP Set Pt1 (Objects)

🥳 It's my birthday and I'll sim if I want to! 🥳

This set includes 11 recolorable Buy Mode objects directly inspired by an IWTV Mermaid AU I'll be posting gameplay for next month.

EA Kelp as Edible Raw Meat for Vampires (Nona Dried Food Mod REQUIRED)

Severinka Hippocampus as IP EP Jetski (IP EP REQUIRED)

TheVintageSim Fringe Hammock REDONE (Functional Loveseat)

Pocci Ceiling Lamp Jellyfish 01 & 02 REDONE (Stringless)

Pocci Jellyfish as Teddy Bear

Venus Girdle Inspired Table Light

Wall Mosaics 1x5

Ivy as Ceiling Light

Simszoo Tree REDONE (RECOLORABLE as Outdoor Light)

Pocci Sakura Vase REDONE (Translucent)

Enjoy!

Download (package files): Mediafire | SimFileShare

Descriptions & preview pics under the cut:

EA Kelp as Edible Raw Meat for Vampires (Nona Dried Food Mod REQUIRED)

If you use the Nraas Hybrid mod to make mermaid-vampire sims, it's a headache getting them to eat a effing thing that's not plasma-based. So I took EA's Kelp mesh and slapped Nona's script on it, to make it "raw food" that can fill a vampire's Thirst need. (I HIGHLY recommend also using Nona's other raw foods--there's a nice juicy fish vamps can eat, which I used in my IWTV post here.)

Severinka Hippocampus as IP EP Jetski (IP EP REQUIRED)

(The harness mesh was shamelessly ripped/reshaped from Mermaidia's Seahorse Taxi. I didn't place the handles as well as I probably should have, but oh frikkin well.) I was too lazy to make this fully recolorable (you can kinda sorta recolor it, since I put the textures in the Multiplier not the Overlay)--but it does come in 4 color variations:

TheVintageSim Fringe Hammock REDONE (Functional Loveseat)

I've been wanting this decor hammock as a functional loveseat for frikkin ever. This gameplay gave me the perfect excuse to bite the bullet and make it. The mesh is rescaled to fit EA loveseats. Fully recolorable, comes in multiple variations, like the original.

Pocci's Jellyfish

I was so jealous that Pocci remade their TS3 Jellyfish ceiling lights for TS4 without the obnoxious strings dangling from the ceiling, so I went and made their Jellyfish 01 & 02 stringless myself. Then I made the Jellyfish as a Teddy Bear. The clipping & joints aren't great, but it works and I'm tired.

Venus Girdle Inspired Table Light

It's amazing, the kind of IRL deep-sea critters you learn about, just by reading mermaid fanfiction.

Wall Mosaics 1x5

They come in a bunch of variations. Two are based on IRL portions of the Madaba Map, for no good reason, other than I just needed a medievalesque mosaic map #ForReasons.

Ivy as Ceiling Light

I made sure there were no backfaces on the ivy mesh, so you could still see inside the lot from a bird's eye view. (I used these with the TW3 Bulb Lights I converted here.)

Simszoo Tree REDONE (RECOLORABLE as Outdoor Light)

I made this tree recolorable and an outfoor light--I wish I knew how to make only the leaves glowe, not the whole frikkin trunk. Ah well.

Pocci Sakura Vase REDONE (Translucent)

All I did was change the texture of the flowers so they were crystal/see-through.

And that's that!

______________________________________________________

Enjoy!

Download (package files): Mediafire | SimFileShare

#sims 3 cc #sims 3 mods #sims 3 foodstuffs #sims 3 transportation #sims 3 lighting #sims 3 toys #sims 3 comfort #sims 3 wall art #sims 3 plants #sims 3 island paradise #sims 3 fantasy #sims 3 animal parts #it's my birthday and i'll sim if i want to

[meluiloth]

For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

#art #my art #the silmarillion #silmarillion epistolary #finwe's sketchbook #house of finwe #finwe #miriel serinde #feanorians #feanor #nerdanel #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #curufin #amras #amrod #elrond #elros #kidnap fam #my writing #fandom event

[samandcolby-ownme]

Summary: Reader meets Jake at a bar, learning quickly about what goes on underneath.

Warnings: strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, not really smut but it’s not really fluffy cute, if you read, you’ll understand what I mean - not edited

Enjoy!

══════════════════

“Thank you.” You gave the bartender a small smile as he set your glass, half full of a dark liquid down on the bar.

He nods and you lay a ten down, “Keep the change.” He smile, “Thank you.” You nod and look down at your drink, mind racing about why you decided to move to L.A.

Why did I come here?

Do I have a reason to be here?

Can I really fit in and-

“This seat taken?” The deep voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, slowly turning your head over to where the voice came from.

A, very tall, guy with a beanie covering his black choppy looking hair, stands there with a small smile on his lips. He was fairly cute, you couldn’t lie, so you shake your head, “Not at all.”

You smile and sit up, turning towards him slightly as he sits down.

“I’m Jake.” He holds his hand out and you look down, shocked when you see his busted up and bruised hand, “Um.” You tilt your head as you take his hand, “Y/n.”

You look up at him and a smile spreads across his have as you speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you okay? Do you need like medical attention or something!”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “Nah, nah. I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your cheeks growing redder.

“Thank you for asking.” He smiles and you nod, “I mean, if you say so.” You laugh slightly, eyes moving back down to fixate on your freshly manicured hand in his.

The deep colored bruising and the dark red scabs not only intrigued you in a, what do you do on a daily basis kind of way, but also in a wow nothing has ever turned you on like this before way, too.

“You can ask.” Jake’s voice causes your eyes do snap up to his, “what?”

He chuckles, sipping on his drink, “I said. You can ask.”

“Uh, ask what?” You play dumb and Jake squeezes your fingers that are still lingering on his palm. He leans in and his eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “Ask me what I do to make my hands look like this.”

Your eyes move between his and you smirk slightly, “Tell me, Jake.” You circle his palm with your fingers slowly, “What do you do to get your hands all beat up?”

Jake looks up at the clock, “Come with me.”

Usually, a guy telling a girl he just met to, come with me, would usually raise red flags, but you’ve basically held Jake’s hand the whole time have been sitting here chatting.

Jake, as weird as it sounds, makes you feel safe, so you had no problem following him to his car.

“Here. You can put your bags in here for now.” You nod as you watch him open the back door. You nod and toss your duffle in before Jake lifts your suitcase and lays it on the seat, “Alright.” He closes the door and holds his hand out, “Follow me.”

You take his hand, waking with him around the building of the bar you were just in, “Where are we going?” You ask as you walk under Jake’s arm.

He turns, arm still on the door, a smirk on his lips, “You scared, darlin’?” A smirk grows on your lips as you shake your head, “No. I trust you.” He nods, taking your hand into his again, “Atta girl.”

You smile to yourself as you look around, “What is this place?” Your eyes fall to him as he stops and you can hear faint shouting and chanting coming from, somewhere.

Jake reaches for the handle of the old door. Your eyes watch as his busted up and ring cladded fingers wrap around the handle, “This is how my hands get all fucked up.”

You raise your brows and he nods towards the door as he swings it open, “Just stay with me. You’ll be good.” You walk in and the shouting grows louder the closer you get to the deep green lit room.

Your eyes scan down over the floor below you, taking in what you’re witnessing. You take a sharp breath as the one guy below in a ring formed by the, what you can only assume is members, takes a bad punch to the jaw.

“Knocked out.” Jake says in a low voice as he leans in towards you. You smile slightly and point, “So what..” you bite your lip and look up at him, “You fight for a living?”

“I know he’s here!” A guy, who is very angry, yells. You look down and see a guy spinning around slowly, looking at each crowd member in the face, “Webber. Where the fuck you at, brother?”

“Is he looking for you?” Your head snaps to Jake and he chuckles, “Uh huh.” He starts do take his rings off, extending his hand out to you, can you hold these for me?” You open your hand and he drops his rings into your palm, flashing you a smile, “Thanks. Come on.”

You stuff his rings into your pocket and quickly take his hand, following him down a rickety looking spiral staircase. Every turns, their eyes moving from Jake to you and you have never felt so out of place.

Jake pulls you through the crowd, his grip tight on your body. You did feel super safe with him, especially now with knowing he can fight. You stop as you get to the opening and Jake shrugs off his jacket, “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

You take his jacket as he extends his arm back, almost like muscle memory. The guy cracks his knuckles and then lifts his hand to his chin, “Wanted to take a crack at knocking you down from your rankin’ a lil bit.” He cracks his neck and Jake puts his hand to his ear, “And what rank would that be?”

The guy across from him laughs, “I’m here to remove your title as undefeated champion, Mr. Jake Webber.” You feel your heart beat harder when you hear the words roar off his tongue.

Jake slips his shirt off over his hand, you also take that and drape it over his jacket. Jake quickly stretches his arms a few times and shrugs, “Let’s see you try.” He motions with his hand, “Bring it, big boy.”

The guy wasn’t any bigger than Jake, well, maybe his ego. Jake looked back at you, giving you a wink before looking back at the guy walking over to him, fists balled and ready to swing.

Jake moves, getting them to walk in a circle before the guy swings on Jake, groaning in frustration when Jake dodges it. The longer you stood there, watching if all play out, the more you felt like you belong there, and walking in with Jake really seemed to help that - hell, undefeated champ and all.

Jake swings, popping the guy in his jaw and he laughs, “I think you have the theater and the ring mixed up, there pal.” Jake shoots, cocking his head, “I’m here to fight, not dance.” The guy lets out a loud yell as he runs towards Jake, and you gasp as Jake’s back meets the dark stained concrete below him.

The guy pulls his arm back just to swing but Jake quickly manages to escape and get two punches to his face before scurrying to stand up.

You were absolutely mesmerized, seeing Jake like this. The sweat glistening off his body in the glowing green lights. The way he can take more than a punch and not bat an eye, fuck. You practically had to wipe the drool off of your chin before anyone noticed.

“Come on, Jake.” You mumble to yourself, bouncing up and down in your spot. Jake’s head snaps to the left as he eats another punch, his cheek busted open slightly, but not as bad as the other guys. Yet.

Your lip is pulled tightly between your teeth, biting down harder each time Jake gets hit. Your eyes watch as he stumbles back, falling at your feet. Before you can bend down to help him, he’s already halfway up your body.

He drags his face really close to yours, and your heart is beating at a high rate speed. His lips press to yours, giving you a sloppy, but still the hottest kiss you’ve ever had in your life, before he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face.

You hold your stare on Jake. You were too into watching him completely obliterate the prick that tried to be better than him, to notice that his blood was also on your face.

“Alright. Alright.” A guy goes out, pulling Jake off of the weakened figure lying on the ground. Jake stands up, turning out and holding his arm up.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

And so do you.

Jake looks around for a second before locking his eyes on you. He smirks and nods his head, cocking his jaw as he snatches the money from the guys hand and immediately walks over to you.

His arms go around your waist and your feet lift up off the ground. His lips meet yours again, along with fresh blood meeting the almost dried blood on your face.

“C’mon.” Jake sets you down, arm still around your waist, “Let’s get out of here.” He leads you up the steps and back out into the hall, immediately pressing your back against the old brick wall.

His hands cup your cheeks, thumb smearing his blood over your skin, “You look so pretty with my blood on your face.”

You smile and lick your lips, “You are incredibly, fucking hot.” He pulls you in and kisses over your cheek to your lips, “I hope you don’t have any plans tonight, because you’re coming home with me.”

══════════════════

Thank you so much for reading. I love you so much. Let me know what you thought! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #snippet #snippets #Jake Webber #Jake Webber one shot #jake webber x reader smut #jake webber one shots #jake webber dirty #spicy one shot #jake webber smut #Jake Webber x reader #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x reader fluff #jake webber x you #jake webber fluff #dirty jake webber

[aka-indulgence]

Thoughts? Thoughts you said? Dealer thoughts? 👀 pls?

YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING HHH

(CW: portrayal of gun and violence + random character’s death)

He seems like a guy with a twisted taste for entertainment. Obviously he doesn’t care for human life, regularly dealing with people who gamble their lives for money (or not), you wouldn’t think he’d care about… anyone.

But he cares about you.

He would’ve just finished his last game for the night. The player died on the last round, no defibrillators or blood transfusions left, transported to the dealer’s version of the afterlife. He had 2 defibrillator charges left. He’s been shot about 7 times, but he’s not dead, just on the brink of death- another weekend night for him. He’s not in the mood to die tonight, is all, and he makes his way down to the club where the music blares, the lights are flashing neon colors and the air smells like booze and smoke.

He’s delighted to see you- he’s favorite server in the club. People quickly move away from him- even club regulars who’ve seen his face- are still unnerved by the large man(?) with the crooked teeth and hollow eyes. And even if his face didn’t scare them the shotgun slung over his back certainly would. His delight soon sours when he sees you’re not alone at the bar. Why are you sitting there in the first place? Looks like one of the club-goers caught you, having pulled you to the seat beside him. He’s uncomfortable close, leaning into your space. That alone is enough for him to reach for his shotgun. But even worse…

While you’re distracted, the guy putting his hand on your lap (something the dealer already wants to shoot him for,) the guy reaches over to your drink… and slips some powder into it.

He’s going to have his face blown off.

He crosses the floor, disregarding the club goers and knocking them down like bowling pins.

As you’re being pressured to have a drink (“hey c’mon babe, I went and bought it for you…”), a large arm slams heavily next to you on the bar, calloused hand gripping the glass so hard it’s shaking. The guy jumps back, having seen the face of horror just above your head.

“Hey angel, mind if I have this?” He says, voice strained. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He proceeds to pick up the glass as if to drink, but shatters it against the bar instead.

People stop dancing. The music is still going.

“Hey w-what the hell man?!” the guy stares at the Dealer, as if he didn’t know what he was just doing.

The Dealer shuts him up real quick when he cocks his shotgun. He’s holding the shotgun in front of you, with his arms boxing you in.

“You look familiar. Never seen you upstairs though. Too bad, you didn’t even get to play one round.”

“You should look away, angel.”

Those were the only warnings before a BLAM suddenly rang out, red splattered all over the bar and the floor- and the guy no longer has a face.

Everyone’s screaming, scrambling out of the club. You’re also screaming, but the Dealer can’t help but smile. You were shaking and pushed back into his chest, trying physically distancing yourself from the body.

Just as satisfying as killing the player after a round of double or nothing.

#dealer buckshot roulette #buckshot roulette #ask #aka writing #maybe? #very unpolished writing #love the idea of him violently protective of you #heheheh #also ofc his petname is angel because of the ost #tw depictions of violence #tw blood mention #tw gun mention #the dealer x reader

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

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