#looking at it I'm a bit unimpressed with myself like man

[amentomensmut]

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU.  i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far. 

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now. 

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy. 

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip. 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry. 

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married. 

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception. 

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar. 

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you. 

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand. 

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one. 

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike. 

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now. 

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike. 

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this. 

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot. 

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers. 

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand. 

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you. 

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. 

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’. 

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper. 

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

#smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #fnafmovie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

[myjisung]

stray kids : calling them pretty !

content. stray kids ot8, gn!reader, complimenting, idol and non idol!skz, lots of dialog, insecure bangchan, confident hyunjin & seungmin, sillies — fluff.

warning. none

wordcount. 1,6k ( got carried away a little bit )

a/n. sorry, i had brainrot !!

bang chan ( 방찬 )

"you're pretty"

"now you're just being silly."

"i mean it!"

chan looked back at you, unimpressed. his brow looked unamused and so did his mouth. he did not buy it.

"chan i promise you. you're a very pretty guy."

he shook his head and you could feel your heart break to pieces. no matter how many times you complimented him, whatever the words you chose, chan would not believe you.

"that's not a word i'd use to describe myself" he laughed dryly "i mean, have you seen me?"

enough. you got up and walked towards him. that got his attention. chan turned his face away from his computer to look to your side and you grabbed his face with both hands. shocked, his eye grew a little bigger.

"chan" your voice quivered "you have to believe me. you ARE pretty. always have been. it pains me to hear you deny it over and over again." his lower lip trembled "whatever it is that makes you believe you don't deserve to hear that word being uttered about yourself, forget it!"

he swallowed and his eyes watered.

"okay" he said after a while "alright. i-" he sighed, looked somewhere else then closed his eyes "i can't really- i don't-" another sigh "for you, i'll try."

lee know ( 리노 )

this time, after ten minutes spent trying, your facetime call went through.

"well fucking finally minho! why are you-" on your screen, your boyfriend's face appeared. he was getting makeup, a small brush softly highlighting his nose bridge "oh... you're pretty."

minho laughed gently.

"what is it that you want y/n? why'd you even call me seventeen times? can't you tell i'm busy?"

he tried to use that annoyed tone he usually threw your way when you were being clingy. but you could tell he was blushing, something that didn't happen often enough if you had to be honest.

"well damn, calm down with the questions. can't someone want to talk to their pretty boyfriend?"

another laugh, a shy one this time.

"okay, stop that"

"stop what? calling you pretty? well that's what you are. pretty pretty pretty!"

"alright i'm hanging up"

"MINHO NO WAIT."

you had to call him eight more times for him to pick up a second time.

changbin ( 창빈 )

"can you compliment me some more?"

you had just spent the last fifteen minutes telling changbin about how perfect of a man he was. and there he was asking for more? there were only so many compliments in the world. so much so that you had to think about what to say in order to not repeat yourself.

handsome you had used. super witty you went on and on about without forgetting about complimenting his dedication to living a healthy lifestyle and promoting kindness.

but then, it dawned on you. you knew just what to say.

"you're pretty."

changbin furrowed his brows.

"huh?"

"you're pretty" you repeated. "like, you're actually so pretty."

a tentative smile stretched changbin's lips.

"are you sure?" he was shy. changbin brought his hand to the back of his neck and tickled it gently—as if it was the first time anyone ever used the word 'pretty' to describe him.

"i am" you said without hesitation "you are super pretty, changbin. you've got pretty eyes and a pretty nose and pretty lips and pretty cheeks and and and..."

changbin laughed that silly high pitched laugh of his.

"you've got a pretty face overall."

"that's the first time i heard of it." he finally said, too shy to ask for any more compliments.

you mentally took note: in order to shut my changbin up, call him pretty.

hyunjin ( 현진 )

"what did you think the first time you saw me?"

you looked up from your book to lock eyes with his. that came out of nowhere. tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your brows.

"what do you mean?"

"like" hyunjin looked to the left, pondering how to word his question better "what was your first impression? when we first met, what did you think of me?"

"oh." you went back to your book "he's pretty."

hyunjin coughed.

"that's it?"

"did you expect me to think you were hot or cool or whatever? the first time we met you were drenched in soda and asked me for napkins, not very cool nor hot. but you were very pretty, the prettiest man i had ever seen."

a gentle smile stretched his full lips.

"do you mean that or are you being funny?"

you looked at him again, shocked. after marking the page you were at, you closed your book.

"no what do YOU mean? don't play with me hyunjin. you DO know that you're pretty, right?"

he brought his hand to his mouth but, before he could hide it, you saw his slight smirk.

"i mean..." he started.

"oh come on!"

"no like" hyunjin giggled "i'm aware it's just, i didn't think you'd think that of me. pretty? is that really the impression i gave you?"

"well cut me some slack here! you're a crazily pretty man. sometimes i just look at you for fun. for FUN, hyunjin! i am ENTERTAINED, i am having a GREAT TIME looking at your pretty face."

"okay now you don't have to be dramatic about it"

hyunjin was blushing crazily for someone so confident.

han ( 한 )

he was painting his nails and a look of concentration had him furrow his brow and push the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. han wanted to draw stars on each and every single one of his nails and you admired his dedication to the task.

the room smelled of both nail polish and nail polish remover. the coffee table was littered with cotton pads and q-tips drenched in acetone. the smell had your eyes water but you couldn't leave.

han was just so pretty. and you had to tell him.

"hey" you started.

"busy" jisung replied "can't mess up again."

you heard him but, it had to be said.

"you're so pretty right now."

it took him a while, maybe three or five seconds before the words registered. once he pieced it together, he looked up at you.

"huh?"

"i said, you're pretty"

"no i heard you" he started "it's just... really?"

han kept his brush above his fingers so long a droplet of pink polish splashed on his nail, ruining the design, but you didn't have the heart to point it out yet.

"yeah? you're a very pretty guy, jisung. like, your eyes for starters, insanely pretty"

he gave you a shy smile as his cheeks turned pink. you could tell he was trying to tone down his reaction from the way his leg started bouncing.

"no... you're the pretty one." he finally said.

jisung looked down at his nail and shrieked. he was going to have start over, AGAIN.

felix ( 필릭스 )

"you're so pretty"

you weren't expecting to say that out loud but could anyone even blame you? the sun was hitting felix's face in a way that enhanced his freckles along with the gold of his skin. his long eyelashes tickled the skin under his eyes and the bitten red of his mouth made him look ethereal.

felix was, objectively, a very pretty boy.

his eyes fluttered open and your cheeks blushed pink. felix noticed and a playful smile stretched his mouth.

"d'you mean that?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

you weren't exactly boyfriend and partner yet. you weren't anything really. something in between, something blurry but neither of you dared saying or doing anything about it. you were content with this in-between, for now.

"i do" you started and he brought a hand to your cheek, letting his thumb gently stroke your skin "you're very pretty, felix"

his smile got bigger.

"thanks" he said "you're super pretty yourself."

you swore your heart leapt out of your chest.

seungmin ( 승민 )

"has anyone told you that you were pretty before?"

"plenty of times actually, y/n."

seungmin smiled playfully and you watched him, deadpan.

"i mean," he started "i get it. don't you?"

he giggled and you could only scoff. can't someone compliment their boyfriend and have him react normally in this economy?

"alright mister pretty boy. i guess you've heard it so much it got to your head."

another laugh, a bright one this time and you could not contain your own smile anymore. seungmin had this way of brightening every room he walked in. he always managed to have you in the best mood and make you forget all of your worries.

"oh no y/n... i beg, compliment me again. i only care when it's you that calls me pretty."

it was your turn to act. pretending to be unimpressed, you looked away.

"well. i better be!"

seungmin giggled again. and so did you.

i.n ( 아이엔 )

shopping with jeongin always took hours. you were used to it at this point, but still. your feet were killing you and you had spent far more money than you had planned to.

your boyfriend had a way with compliments afterall. whatever you tried on, he loved and managed to make you love too so, purchased they were!

"how about this one?"

the fitting room's curtain quickly opened and you were met with yet another huge-pair-of-pants-and-oversized-shirt outfit. it was crazy the way jeongin managed to make them work every time.

"pretty" you said "you're pretty."

he smiled and his eyes crinkled.

"pretty?"

"mh mh" you nodded "you look super pretty. you always do but especially right now. crazily pretty, insanely pretty, gorgeously pretty. extremely pretty even. have you considered-"

jeongin cut you off, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. he giggled against your mouth as you kissed back, sending happy shivers down your back.

"okay i think i get it." he said "you're perfectly pretty too"

with that, the curtain closed again.

taglist. after being absent for a long while, i'll make a new taglist instead of using the old one so let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

#🐈‍⬛ sol writes #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids headcanons #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fics #skz fics #skz bang chan #skz leeknow #skz felix #skz changbin #skz hyunjin #skz han #skz seungmin #skz i.n #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids ot8 #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop drabbles #kpop fics #kpop imagines

[ssahotchnerr]

Hi! Following from the DBF Hotch fic you wrote that I LOVED. Could you write one where they maybe bump into the guy she was with and even though he knows nothing happened between them, Hotch still gets jealous and possessive??

jealousy over coffee

AHHHH cw; dbf!hotch x fem!reader, age gap, possessive aaron, suggestive content <3

all characters within this are 18+

you offered the barista a quick smile before clutching onto the steaming cups in front of you. you turned from the counter a bit too swiftly, causing yourself to nearly stumble into the person directly behind you.

"i'm so sorry!" an apology exited your mouth immediately, steading yourself as well as the drinks. your eyes lifted to the person you had almost knocked over, and were quick to recognize as well.

"no worries, i approached you a bit fast myself." as if to further balance you himself, one of his hands found temporary placement on your forearm. "how are you? it's been quite a while."

"i've been alright," your eyes glanced towards the front of the cafe, your gaze meeting another familiar, more preferred one. the glint in your eyes was mischievous, practically daring him to intervene. "yourself?"

"i would've been better if you would've given me that call back," he offered you a look he probably thought was smooth. "but now that we're both here, why don't-"

as you anticipated, aaron sidled up to you, "is that one mine, darling?"

he was heavy on the emphasis, indicating there was more in his possession than just coffee.

you nodded, giving him a smile as you graciously handed him his cup. "just the way you like it."

"thank you," aaron granted you a quick kiss behind the shell of your ear. using his free hand, his fingers slipped into your belt loops, pulling your hip against his possessively. his eyes then lifted to the other in your presence, his stare unwavering in terms of gaining dominance. "and this is?"

as you recalled your previous meeting, a story aaron knew almost too well, you felt aaron's hand travel, landing on the curve of ass. he wasn't being very subtle about it either, his hand splayed across it in a firm grip for any eyes to see.

and it worked, the man, who's name you've honestly forgotten as aaron openly displayed you as his, was uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to another. it also didn't help that aaron's fixed, commanding look was unfaltering, as if he were challenging him to make an advancement and see what would happen if he attempted such. the fact that aaron was also clearly older was immensely assisting.

"oh," aaron's tone was unimpressed, bored as he kissed the place behind your ear once more. "well, we better get going. we needed a caffeine boost for some strenuous activities later." aaron's hand reached up, giving the end of your ponytail a sharp tug, causing a wave of heat right to your core.

as the two of you were heading out, aaron also didn't hesitate to call behind him, "in case you hadn't noticed, you won't be getting that call back."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #dbf!hotch #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no quiet on this earth

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 10 - killing in self defense | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.8k

summary: You and Joel run into hunters on patrol.

-- I'm a fucking menace, and this is Joel & reader from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone. I just can't seem to help myself/let them go.

warnings: established relationship, jackson, patrol partners, hunters, Joel and reader both kill hunters, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected, creampie, feelings, guilt/trauma, trauma response, a little hurt and a LOT of comfort, Joel takes care of you, one (1) ass slap, pussy/clit spanking

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They had been waiting for you. Not the biggest group of hunters that’s come ‘round, but there hadn’t been any signs. It was supposed to be an easy half-day route. 

It was also your first patrol with Joel. 

You’re already off to a rough morning. He’s settled back into Out There Joel, gruff and tense, and you’re already feeling useless again even though you know you can handle it now. 

You’re on horseback, you with a gentle brown mare that you’re a little irritated about. Penny is notoriously slow and usually used to teach people to ride. Tommy taught you to ride ages ago, but Joel fucking insisted. 

“Ain’t havin’ you have to deal with a spooked horse our first time out.”

“Our first time. I’ve been out loads of times,” you grumbled. He leveled you with a look so stern that you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t start with your smart mouth,” he said. “Only way this works is—“

“If I do what I’m told. I got it. Same shit, different place.” 

To say you’re pissed would be an understatement. You thought after all the shit you’ve been through that he’d trust you now. And you’ve gotten quite good with your revolver and halfway decent with the rifle. 

Now, out here on the trail to the safe house, neither of you has said a word. Just like the good old days. Y’know. If they had been good. 

You’re nearly there when they make their move. They don’t have guns, thank fuckin’ god, but there are five of them and two of you. 

It becomes quickly clear that they want the horses. Joel makes quick work of the first hunter that lunges for him. 

One comes at him from each side, and you’re too worried to notice the other two do the same to you. 

One grabs the reins and the other tries to yank you from the saddle. Your boots are stuck, and they don’t seem to particularly care if they break your legs during the extraction. 

You free your feet, boots left behind, and let the brick house of a man pull you down. He doesn’t care much about your landing, so when you hit the ground, you grapple for your revolver. 

His partner yells, and he spins back to you, a huge fist aiming for your face. But it doesn’t connect, because your bullet does first. 

He was close enough that it would have been near impossible to miss, which also meant that his stupid body landed on you, turning your clothes into a sponge for his blood. 

Joel’s rampaged through the others by now and turns to take down the one trying to abscond with your horse. 

But he doesn’t make the shot, because he freezes up when he sees you. 

“Get the fucking horse,” you yell. 

He swears and loads the rifle, one neat bullet into the head of the escaping hunter. He hadn’t fully mounted your mare yet, and his corpse crumples into the soft spring soil. 

Joel whistles and Penny takes her fucking time to come back, giving him a very unimpressed look and shaking her mane. 

He heaves the dead man off you. “Where?” he says sharply, eyes darting all over your body. 

“Nowhere, Joel, I’m fine,” you say. 

He’s already dropping to his knees, hands gripping and patting every inch of you before cradling your face. “You’re sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Unless I’m in shock, but I guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he mutters, doing another check, slower this time and more thorough. 

You let him. You feel kind of funny, dizzy almost, but mostly just… muted. Like the world around you is muffled and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how blood is turning tacky and your jeans are stiffening as it dries. 

“Hey,” he snaps. 

You’re pretty sure that means he was already talking to you, and when you look up and meet his eyes, they abandon their irritation for concern beneath furrowed brows. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he says, voice low and slow. It draws out the Texan twang and loops you in. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did what you had to do, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, but the word sticks in your throat, tasting of copper. 

“Say it.”

“I did what I had to do.”

You’ve done as he said, but he looks more worried for it. 

“Alright, c’mon. I’m gettin’ you home.”

“But—“

“Rethink that, baby. I ain’t in the mood to argue.”

“But we were supposed to—“

“Yeah, and plans fuckin’ change. We’re going back. Tommy and I can come out and deal with the bodies later.”

He stands and pulls you up, though you follow willingly. You hover where you stand as he pulls a rope from his bag and tethers it to Penny’s lead. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Want you on Oakley with me.”

“I can ride,” you snap. “I’m not fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Joel says. “But you’re gonna ride with me.”

“Don’t start this shit,” you say, mortified when your voice and hands are trembling. “I can handle myself.”

He spins around, fury written in the curl of his lip. “I fuckin’ know that! I don’t give a shit. You’re riding with me, end of fuckin’ discussion.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back, but he seizes you by the shoulders and shakes you a little. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it? It’s not about you,” he snarls. You’re crushed against him before you realize it’s an embrace. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride up here, so I know you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, leaning into him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, but the fight is already leaving him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets go. “Now get on the damn horse before I put ya there myself.”

You think you deserve credit for only hesitating a little, tempted to see if he really would. But his jaw ticks and you heave yourself up onto Oakley. Joel swings himself behind you, caging you in as he takes the reins. 

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he gripes. 

“I learned it by watching you,” you say, voice pitched in mockery of the vague memory. 

But instead of irritation, something akin to relief flashes across his face. “Yeah, s’that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Now that everything has calmed, you’re exhausted. He can tell because of course he can. He knows you too well. 

“C’mon, lean back. I got ya. Not gonna let you fall.”

You don’t sleep, not really, but you fall into something between the light and dark. It’s blissfully absent of reality. You’re only aware of the soft sunshine, the sway of the horse, and Joel. 

Joel, your Joel, is everything right now. All encompassing. You’re surrounded by his warmth and smoky musk, masking the chill and tang of the stains on your skin. 

His heart seems to beat in time with Oakley’s hooves and the steady pace he encourages keeps you lulled in this safest place. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” Carl asks at the gates, almost loud enough to knock you from your peace. 

“Nothin’ too serious, she ain’t hurt,” Joel’s smooth tone settles you back down. “But do me a favor and get the horses back? Send Tommy my way in a while. I’m gonna take her home.”

Home. It sounds so nice. But you’re already there, you want to tell him. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here. 

You must actually say it, because he chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart, but I can think of somewhere I’d rather be.”

It hurts a little before he leans in and murmurs in your ear. 

“I’d rather be in a warm bath with ya. That sound better than stayin’ put?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, you’re right. Way better idea.”

He makes good on his promise when you get home. While he draws the water, he peels your ruined clothes off and sits you on the bathroom counter to rinse the blood into the sink. 

You sit very still with your eyes clenched shut as he cleans you. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “First one’s the hardest.”

You can’t quite stopper the whimper. 

“This is part of why I don’t like ya goin’ out there. I can’t protect you from this.” The admission costs him, but he seems to decide it’s worth it when you look up at him. 

The tub isn’t really big enough for both of you, but he makes it work, long sprawling limbs propped up to make room for you against his chest. You lie on your side, both to make more room and to press your ear to his chest and listen to his strong, tender heart. 

He holds you there, hand gentle on your head and the other around your shoulder until neither of you can pretend the water is comfortable still.  More importantly, his cock’s been pressing against you for a little while now, and you’re unable to ignore it anymore.

You roll over on your stomach, legs bent a little funny to fit, but it’s the right angle to press a kiss to the fat mushroom head that you love so much. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”

But you just give him a look, because he knows better, he knows you’d never do anything you don’t want to. And he knows how often you crave it, how your throat aches for it.

He raises his hands in surrender. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

With the convoluted seating arrangement, you’re able to swallow down his length, working your throat open in the way you’ve grown to know well. It’s a lot at once, but the way he groans is worth the effort. 

You choke and gag a little, but neither of you are really bothered by it. Quite the opposite. And you’re grateful for the way the thoughts you don’t want to face are knocked from your brain each time he ruts deeper. 

Too soon, though, he’s pulling you off, spit thick with precum stringing between him and your lips as you whine.

“C’mon, let’s get out. I gotta have more of you.”

You don’t dry off quite as much as you’d like, but you’re probably going to need to change the sheets anyway. He can’t be bothered to let you towel off properly, picking you up and setting you on the bed before crawling over your body.

He kisses you, ferocious but hesitant, and you trail your hands up his arms, basking in the way he encompasses you for the second time today. His soft, powerful body leaves no wiggle room, practically pinning you down with his bulk. 

Except he’s holding himself up, tense. And the gentleness of his tongue and distinct lack of nipping teeth in his kiss is grating. 

You turn your head to break apart. “Stop acting like I’m gonna fall apart.” 

“I—”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s like you think I’m going to break if you touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make it feel like…”

“I know,” you say, softer. “But I want to feel you, Joel. I don’t want to feel the ghost of it… him. Please.” 

“You wanna feel me, sweetheart? Want me to be a little rough with ya?” 

“Unless you’re too tired. S’it past your bedtime, old man?” 

He doesn’t fall for the taunt, but he pretends to, and you’re deeply grateful as he snarls and bites at your breast before licking and sucking at your nipple, taking it between his teeth and shaking a little. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hand tangling into his hair. He wears it a little shaggier these days, and you find you like it long. A lot. 

“Think you can take it just like this?” he says around your other nipple. The hand that isn’t holding him up has reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your clit until you squirm, and then dragging it down your slit. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. I think you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait any longer than the first little nod of your head before he flicks his hips, parting you, forcing your body to make room for him. It takes a second thrust to push all the way in, and you cry out as he stuffs you full. 

It hurts so good. It’s just the edge you need to feel awake again. The world is no less fuzzy but the haze is pleasurable and electric instead of the numb fog that refused to dissipate. 

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

It floods you with warmth. You think maybe the sappiness is leaking through, that he can see how stupidly in love you feel. 

Or, you know, it’s actually leaking, since you’re apparently fucking crying. You can’t really begrudge yourself for it. It’s been a hell of a day. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, the gentleness of his voice playing second to the harsh slap of his hips and the tight pinch of his fingers on your breasts. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me help you.” 

His pace, somehow, intensifies, the brutal snap of his cock blunt against the softest parts of you. He pushes your legs to your chest so he can shove his way in deeper, and smacks a harsh hand against your ass from his new vantage point. 

He grips your hip with one hand and lets up on your tits, only to show no mercy to your clit. He skips over the gentle circles and soft strokes, instead pinching and tugging. He wrenches two orgasms from you before he eases off. 

“Hold your pussy open for me,” he grunts.

You look at him with wide eyes. How can he still be finding ways to shock you with depravity? The two of you have to have fucked every which way, and yet. You slide a hand down but he shakes his head.

“Both of ‘em, baby. Nice and wide.” 

Your cheeks are burning as he lifts up onto his knees, pushing your legs apart to watch as you spread your lips wide. For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the push and pull of his cock splitting you apart and the way it comes out a little slicker each time. 

“Look at that,” he says, a smug smirk spreading. “Fuckin’ creamin’ all over me, sweetheart. Now hold still.”

Before you really process the order, still dying from how hot his filthy words are, he slaps your clit. You jerk and let go, crying out more in surprise than pain.

“Put your fuckin’ hands back,” he says, and you obey. 

Your whole body is on fire, maybe. He brings his hand down sharply again and again, making you hold yourself spread wide for him to use as he pleases. 

It doesn’t really surprise either of you when you come. He finally knocks your hands away from your cunt and leans back down over you, hips stammering sloppily. 

“Can I—” he chokes out, and you’re nodding so hard it shakes your brain around. He digs his fingers into your hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, one more. Gimmie one more while I fill you up.”

He goes to reach for your clit, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as he starts twitching and pulsing inside you, you come, eyes rolling back and fingernails digging into his biceps. 

When you’ve both settled, there’s something bright in his eyes, something wild and dangerous. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone and doesn’t pull out. His softening cock isn’t much smaller than it is erect, and he stays buried deep in you, eyes trailing over your face. 

“What?” you say softly.

“I thought… thought I fuckin’ lost you today.” His voice is gruff but tight.

“You didn’t, Joel. M’right here.”

He kisses you, and it’s not gentle exactly, not like earlier, but it’s tender and demanding. His hands grip you and roam, not pursuing pleasure but just to have his fill of you, to feel your body warm and alive beneath him. 

When he breaks away from your swollen lips, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did good. I don’t like it, but you did good. I’m not gonna ask you not to go out again, but—”

“I’m gonna ask Tommy if I can have a break,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.” You’re burning again, but this time with shame.

“No one expects you to. It doesn’t mean you’re a coward. You’re tough, sweetheart. But y’ain’t a killer.”

“I am, though,” you whisper. 

“Stop. Yes, you killed that man today. But you had to. It was him or you. You’re a survivor. But I’m going to make damn sure you don’t have to be anymore, alright? We’re safe here, now.”

You let out a ragged sigh and try to relax back into the pillow. “Okay,” you agree. You can tell he needs it. How scared he was. 

At least for now, you’ll let him protect you from this.

*title from "Death For My Birthday" by Say Anything

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance #fuck it we'll call this a surprise deleted scene lmao #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday10

[asherloki]

Hi I was wondering if I could request Sherlock being protective over the reader? Maybe something like the time Mrs Hudson was held hostage and he saw the bruise marks?🩷

My protector

Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 569

Fluff

I got up from Sherlock's chair and was about to leave when he came with a box of cigerette shoved in his mouth. That sight was bizzare yet made me giggle.

"What?" He said after taking them out from his mouth and holding in his hand.

"Nothing, you're funny" I said and took my bag, "so I'm leaving now".

He looked at his wrist watch and said, "um.. hey" he hesitated for some reason, I stood waiting for him to speak, "don't... " He trailed off again, "it's a bit late for you to go home alone".

He and I became friends after one day he came to my college because there was a leaked question paper case. He investigated because if police were to do that then our college's reputation was to be doomed. It turned out that a student stole those question papers and that's what made the exam to be postponed. I rolled my eyes at the detective. Everyone seemed to be a fan of him, except for me and that caught his attention. He told me later "the way you were unimpressed, made me wanna know you and prove myself". There is nothing to prove now. Nothing is competition. He might be a great detective for others but he's a great friend of mine. I visit him every week. And when we have nothing to talk of I take out my books and he helps me study. It's wonderful. Today I was going through a research paper.

"Yeah, I was so drowned in that research work that I couldn't help but get up in time" I replied, it was all quiet already and my house was still a long walk from his.

"Wait" he said taking his dressing gown off and putting his coat, "let's go".

I was a bit surprised, I... Well now I can admit, since I got to know him I... Am a bit flattered by his gentlemanly behaviour. Like now, he's offering to walk me home.

"You don't have to Sherlock" I answered, he may not have to, but he can, it's rather flattering.

"Oh please, I insist" he replied. Who could say no to such a man. Can you imagine? I rolled my eyes at him, now I can't take my eyes off him.

I agreed with a nod and we got out. We started to walk towards my house. It was quiet comfortable walk. And my hand was itching to hold his.

"Okay fine" he said with a bit of exhaustion in his voice and took my hand.

"What? I'm don't.."

"You were staring at my hand wanting to hold it" he explained, "don't even think of denying since you know it's useless to me and you're rather worse at lying".

I pouted, he's always like this, protective, I love it but not the scolding. Yet I walked along with a huge grin after holding his big hand.

"Your hand is tiny" he said looking down at my hand.

" Yours is big" I replied.

"Could be both" we giggled at eachother for being ridiculous.

Eventually we reached our destination and he waited until I went inside. I sat on my bed, thinking... I may have.. I can't believe it, I may actually have fallen in love with him.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader

[bubuslutty]

Omg, what would Pirate! John Price and the reader say to each other or do the first time he saves her... when they stare at each other after that crazy moment at the wedding?

omg thank u so much for the ask, anon!

pirate!Captain Price au

word count: 813

I imagine that it's pretty intense because I'm assuming the reader never killed anyone before, much less stabbed them, so she's pretty much in shock I think. 

She's panting, trying to get as much oxygen in her lung as she can while Price's men stare at her, casting shadows above her and John, and she doesn't give a shit about the pirates because she just killed a man and it feels like her heart's about to stop.

John sits up in a squat and glances at his men, giving them a look that says 'go away' and they do leave them alone, busying themselves with their usual duties while their Captain stays there with the bride, who looks like is about to pass out any second now. 

"I killed him," She whispers and John looks at her, a cloth hovering over his blade so he could clean it. "I killed him," She repeats, meeting John's eyes and a single tear falls down her cheek and he feels a little bad now. 

"He probably deserved it." John says slowly, sliding the cloth over the blade to clean it, he'll have to probably soak it in hot water later on to get rid of the smell of blood.

She pauses her freaking out and stares at John with wide eyes, she licks her dry lower lip and John thinks she's about to tell him something, tell him what he did, or what happened to lead to this, to the murder of the man she was supposed to marry.

"I need to turn myself in." She realizes with wide eyes, looking down at her hands, still sitting on the floorboards of John's deck. "I need to turn myself in."

"No, you're not." John frowns and that actually surprises her.

"I need to." She repeats, reaching to remove the veil that was pinned to her hair and throws it to the side, now exposing her naked face to the salty winds and John's eyes. 

"Do you even know what they'll do to you if you do that? You'll ruin your life. I say you run for as long and as far as you can. Do you have anyone on land you can trust?" John asks her and she's so lost and confused, is this how pirates are supposed to behave? 

She was sure he was a pirate, the way he dressed, the way his men didn't have a uniform and how they attacked their ship with ease. 

The bride thinks for a moment and shakes her head, she doesn't have anyone she can trust left. 

John sighs and he scratches the back of his neck, "Look, how about you stay here for now until I figure out what to do with you?"

"Stay here– I don't want to stay here. Turn me in." She begged, smaller hands clutching onto her dress, her legs refusing to work so she's still bound to the floor, bending her neck to be able to see his face while he stands over her.

"I promise you, you don't want that. You'll be hanged, but not before they make sure they use you in any way they can." John says easily, not sugarcoating the truth and watching her with unimpressed eyes. 

How naïve.

The bride's eyes are starting to water again and her lower lip wobbles and Price feels a bit guilty, like he'd made the prettiest princess cry on his ship. 

"I killed him." She repeats again, voice wet and shaky, chest heaving up and down when she replays her actions for the millionth time in her head. 

"You didn't." Price's mouth says before he thinks. 

"What?" She sniffles and John's shocked at how he let himself slip like that. He grips his sword tighter, and lifts it up. 

"It's my sword who killed him. I killed him, not you." He says. 

"I doubt his family will tell the public their son was stabbed by his bride. They'll probably blame it on me, to twist a story of bravery and courage. They will probably tell everyone how hard he fought me but was outnumbered and died, and how I kidnapped his bride." Price says while the bride listens to him with her lips parted in shock. 

"How are you so sure?" She asks, quietly, her voice getting carried by the winds and almost overpowered by the sound of crashing waves. 

"Just trust me and I'll keep you safe." He says, smiling a bit. 

And she wants to push him to explain, wants to stand up and scream, but she can't, because not only her legs are refusing to work but her body has decided to stop working all together. She let's out a stuttered breath as her eyelids gets heavy, and the last hing She remembers was a big warm hand on her cheek, cushioning her face from the cold scratchy floorboards. 

#cod mw2 #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price smut #captain john price x reader #bubuslutty writes #bubuslutty ask #captain john price smut #captain price #captain john price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #captain price x female reader #john price imagine #john price x female reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod smut #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

#the sandman #dreamling #century meetings #meta #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the amount of them just not understanding what the other person wants or is offering at first is incredible #1489 #1589 #an essay #i really do think the dynamics in the first few meetings are SO INTERESTING and precarious

[eiirisworkshop]

I want to post something, but I don't have anything finished, so you get a sneak peak at the sequel to my Star Trek fic, Chiaroscuro. Enjoy!

~

Admiral Fitzgerald sighed and ran a hand over his face. “If I promise you you'll get another ship, will you take the damn promotion?”

Kirk crossed his arms. “If I can get that promise in writing from all the top brass, sure.”

“I'll see if I can swing that.” The Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose. “You're impossible, Kirk, I hope you know that. And you get away with more than you should, because, unfortunately, you really are that good.” He folded his hands on the desk. “What was it the two of you wanted to see me about, anyway?”

Kirk looked sidelong at Spock.

“We have a question, or rather a requirement, regarding our respective next assignments, for logistical reasons,” Spock said coolly.

“More demands,” Fitzgerald snorted. “What's this requirement of yours?”

“Nothing huge,” Kirk assured him. “It's just, wherever we're posted, if we're going to be there for four years or longer, we need to either be assigned together, or within a day or two's travel from one another.”

“Together would be preferable,” Spock added. “Simpler.”

“Uhhuh.” Fitzgerald looked unimpressed. “Why?”

“Well, um….” Kirk looked to Spock again.

Spock was staring fixedly at a book on the shelf behind the Admiral. “Certain circumstances arose over the course of our recent mission that resulted in the establishment of a particular kind of psyonic link between myself and the Captain. The phenomenon is extraordinarily common among Vulcans, but rare with members of other species. It was unavoidable, but it does now mean that the two of us must have at least periodic access to one another.”

“Or else what?”

“It would be fatal,” Spock said simply.

Fitzgerald nodded slowly and leaned on one elbow towards Kirk. “Does this, by any chance, have something to do with that detour you took the Enterprise to Vulcan a few years ago?”

“Short answer: yes,” Kirk said carefully.

“Well,” Fitzgerald leaned back in his chair, “I happen know that Commander Spock's next assignment is a four year teaching stint here at the Academy, and Captain, there's some fighting over you but it's looking like you'll be spending those four years behind a desk in one department or another, and unless Wyoming or Luna make particularly convincing cases for needing you before the ceremony Friday, it's looking like you'll be either here or in L.A. I figure that's easy enough travel.”

“Yes sir,” Kirk said along with Spock, biting back the urge to point out that the Admiral could have just told them they would be posted near each other anyway.

“If that's everything, I do believe you've already been given your accommodation assignments,” Fitzgerald said. “It's late, you've had a long day, and I know it can be rough to readjust to living by an actual day/night cycle again.”

“One more thing about that, actually,” Kirk said quickly.

“Captain,” Spock warned lowly.

“I was hoping one or both of us could be reassigned,” Kirk continued, ignoring the man who was no longer his First Officer. “So we're not on opposite ends of campus, at least. If there's not a good way to do that, I know the flats over at the north end of Academy housing are never full, that would work too.”

“Jim,” Spock warned again.

The Admiral looked back and forth between the two of them and tilted his head curiously. “Is this whole psyonic link business some kind of sex thing?”

“I do not believe that question is appropriate, Admiral,” Spock bit with a stern, cold evenness that almost came across as polite.

“Maybe not, but I think it's warranted. Kirk, you know those flats are family housing. They're for married couples and parents with kids. So unless the two of you are planning on getting hitched—”

“By Vulcan standards I'm pretty sure we already are!” Kirk exclaimed.

“Jim.”

“What? We are, aren't we?”

“Yes,” Spock confirmed, “but I do not appreciate your disclosing that without consulting me.”

“Well, hell,” Fitzgerald sighed. “Kirk, half the ladies in Starfleet are going to be heartbroken.”

“I don't think that comment was appropriate, either, Admiral,” Kirk said.

Fitzgerald shrugged. “You're the one who just told your boss you shacked up with your XO without clearing it with him first. Look, do you have some kind of documentation? A Vulcan marriage certificate, if there is such a thing?”

“There is, but we do not,” Spock said.

“Then there's nothing I can do for you. I couldn't get anything changed for you tonight, regardless. Go get some rest. You're both dismissed.”

Spock nodded once, turned on his heel, and strode out. Kirk followed with a tight “Yes, sir,” to the Admiral.

Despite the hour, there were still plenty of people coming and going in the halls—Starfleet never really slept—but Kirk and Spock did manage to get an elevator to themselves. Kirk punched the button for the lobby and the doors closed.

“You should have conferred with me,” Spock said to his reflection in the polished metal door.

“You're right, I should have, I'm sorry.” Kirk deflated against the elevator wall. He was exhausted. And starving.

“How and when to inform Starfleet of our relationship was not your call to make unilaterally.”

“They were going to find out sooner or later, and we were already halfway to telling Fitzgerald, but you're right, and I'm sorry.” He took a breath and shoved away from the wall as they neared their floor. “I'll grovel, I'll walk you through my thought process back there, whatever you want from me, but can we do it over food? I haven't eaten anything since the cheese and fruit and crackers at that third press conference.”

Spock's gaze slid over to him, carefully—ominously—blank. After a breath he dipped his head in acquiescence. The door dinged open and they stepped out.

“I recommend both,” Spock said as they walked through the lobby.

#eiiri made this #fanfic #star trek tos #star trek #sneak peek #spirk #k/s #james t kirk #s'chn t'gai spock

[deans-queen]

Wildest​ Dreams 🩵

Main Characters: Dean Winchester x Aria ( Original Character )

Additional Characters: Hanna (Aria’s Best Friend)

Plot: Aria is out at a club with her friends and she meets a mysterious handsome stranger (Dean). (Again this story will mostly be in Aria’s P.O.V) (You can even imagine you the reader as Aria if you want)

Warnings: SMUT, p in v (wrap it up kids), mature and sexual language, alcohol. *18+ Readers ONLY please!*

I’m not good at writing smut but I promise I’m working on it !

Inspired by the song: “Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version)” by Taylor Swift

Blue text: song lyrics

Aria’s P.O.V

It was Saturday night and I'm out with a group of friends. This week had been super stressful and I needed to unwind. So I decided to have a GNO (girls night out). I was wearing short black dress that hit all my curves right with high heeled pumps. My long dark brown hair was in soft curls that looked like waves and my makeup was on point completed with my favorite red lipstick. I looked hot and I felt it too! We went to this local club and we were downing shots like water. My friends and I were having a blast dancing when suddenly my friend Hanna whispered in my ear “Oh my god, this guy is totally checking you out.”

“Really? Who is he?” I said.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “and I dunno but he’s totally hot!”

I casually looked behind me and I saw him

He smiled & winked at me.

Damn, he is hot!

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad but he does it so well

He was tall, muscular (not like a body builder but his body was toned) and had short brown hair.

He had a jawline so sharp and perfect that it could cut you in half.

And to top it off….he had the most amazing smile and GORGEOUS emerald green eyes.

This man was certainly a damn dream.

“You should talk to him Aria.” Hanna said as she elbowed me.

“No way! He’s so out of my league.”

“Come on Aria! He’s handsome as hell. How many other chances are you gonna get?”

“Seriously Han, what would I even say to him? I’m too worried about embarrassing myself.”

Hanna looked over my shoulder and casually pointed his way.

“You better think of something because he’s walking this way.”

I turned around and gasped.

Omg….Omg…. I thought

What do I do? What do I say?

What if I say something stupid?

I gathered my thoughts as this handsome stranger walked towards me.

“Hi.” He said with confidence. He reached out his hand to me and I shook it. His hands were a bit rough but strong at the same time.

“Hi.” I said in a nervous voice shaking his hand.

My heart was pounding in my chest hearing its beat in my ears.

“I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.” His eyes were looking me up and down. “And I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”

I looked back at Hanna and she nodded in approval.

“Sure.” I said coyly, I was trying to play hard to get. Pretending to be unimpressed with his good looks and charm. It was hard to do that.

He lead me to the bar and we ordered our drinks. He ordered another beer and I ordered a cocktail.

“Soooo…” he said while looking at me and taking a sip of his beer.

“I offer to buy you a drink and I didn’t even bother to ask your name.”

I looked at him shyly. “Aria, I’m Aria.”

“That’s a very unique name. I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.” He gave me a sexy smile, I couldn’t help but blush.

It wasn’t fair, I had just met this man not even 5 minutes ago and I’m already attracted to him. I was under his spell, I didn’t wanna get out of it.

I knew how this night was going to end.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

The next thing I knew we were making out in the backseat of his Chevy Impala.

He said “No one has to know what we do…”

His hands were tangled up in my hair, as my arms wrapped around his neck.

But this is getting good now…

The kiss was passionate and hot. His lips made his way down my neck and jawline. While his hands ran down my back to cup my ass. He then proceeded to run a hand along my thigh to push up the bottom of my dress, exposing my bare skin.

“Dean.” I said breathlessly moaning

“Mmmmm you smell so good baby. Like vanilla and coconut.”

“And you smell like whisky and cologne.” I said under my breath.

“That sounds about right.” He said winking at me.

His hands made is way to the back of my dress to unzip it. I pushed it down and removed it from my body. His eyes grew wide as he saw me in my lingerie. I was wearing a black and red lacy bra that had a rose in the middle with a matching thong.

“Your body is so perfect, Aria.” He said as he looked me up and down, biting his lip.

I reached down to tug on his shirt and removed it. My eyes began to wonder at his chest, muscular arms and perfect abs. He also had a very unique tattoo on his chest.

Was this man carved by a Greek god or something?

“Says you.” I said cheekily while kissing him back again.

It was very bold of me to be making out with a stranger in his car, but I couldn’t help myself. I was totally admired of him. He was like a drug you were addicted to. And I needed every dose of him. I didn’t want him to be another one night stand….someone I would never see again.

I tried to make this night last forever

“Dean….please fuck me. I want you so bad.”

He looked at me grinning like a devil and said “Your wish is my command sweetheart.”

He unbuckled the belt on his jeans taking them off quickly and removed his boxers. My eyes grew wide at the sight of his member. He was thick and huge. I laid down on the seat and he crawled on top of me. He wasted no time lining up with my entrance and putting himself inside me. (With protection of course)

"Oh fuck....you feel so good." I said breathlessly.

“Mmmm so you do you baby. Your pussy is so tight for me.” He moaned.

He thrusted in me faster and faster, I sat up a little bit and put his forehead against mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist pushing him more into me. I gripped my hands along his back, digging my nails into his skin. He moaned while I clawed my nails into him leaving scratch marks.

"God baby, i'm so close. Are you close for me?" He said

"Yes, Dean. I wanna come for you!"

"Come in me, I wanna feel your juices around my cock.”

"Ahhhhhhh fuck." I screamed

I exploded inside him, that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.

We both looked at each other and breathed heavily.

“Dean?” I said while still breathing heavily.

“Yeah baby?” His green eyes looking in mine.

“Please say you’ll remember me after tonight? I don’t want to be just another hook up…”

Say you’ll remember me

Standin’ in a nice dress

Starin’ at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your

Wildest Dreams

“Of course I’ll remember you Aria. I definitely wanna see you again.”

I smiled at him and kissed him again.

All while embracing the best night I’ve had in a long time.

Authors Note:

Hope you enjoyed this story!

Feel free to let me know what you think! 

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Check out my other stories! 

Master list 📝

Banner & dividers made by: @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

#dean winchester #dean x female!reader #jensen ackles #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #Dean x original character #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester smut #deanedit #supernatural #supernatural edits #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan account #supernatural fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #original character #18+ blog #18+ content #18+ post #wildest dreams #taylor’s version #taylor swift #1989 taylor’s version

[amypihcs]

HELLO! Awfully late cause uni, got back home late, let's start with today's story! Watson is going like you-don't-know-what-i-saw

Well, he saw MANY things, but this one beats them all

He FAINTED on OUR HEARTRUG! They looked at each other. tried VERY HARD not to laugh. spat a lung laughing without ROARING with laughter (they will roar when Watson will write the case down and comment aloud to Holmes who WON'T be able to stifle his giggles, lol). Now -giggling- let's help this poor soul

BRANDY! the universal medicine (no, watson, just... no.)

Well, looks like it half works toh

Watson: absolute exhaustion -GLARE AT HOLMES- Maybe just hunger and fatigue Holmes: -angelic face and innocent whistling as he searches the client- (Watson WILL remind Holmes of Doctor Huxtable when he refuses to eat because 'he can't afford energies to digestion')

They're both so competent at the respective jobs! They're the perfect couple! Oh he's back to himself! Good! And he starts rambling as sure as he has the gift of word again. Give that man some milk and biscuits, PLEASE!

Huxtable gets a bit more back to himself and here we start talking business

No doctor, i'm sorry. My husband partner and i are damn busy. Is your case interesting important enough for me to move from A TON OF STUFF TO DO? WAINT, KIDNAPPED CHILD??!

TALK, MAN!

Holmes: Tried to keep it secret uh? - going through his index -Very silly of him! oh god, he has half the alphabet after his name. Mr Half-Alph-Man must be pretty important, uh? Headmaster: IMPORTANT. AND. RICH.

Lol, doctor, you know, right, that Holmes despises rich clients usually? Exp for the way they act

WAIT HOW MUCH DID YOU SAY?? Watson, we could send all our irregulars to university with THAT much money! AND have even less monetary worries than now AND buy that cottage we were talking about! We go, right? -insert watson nodding- Now, TELL US THE FACTS.

Holmes' detectivey senses are tingling. And is thanking god the headmaster TRULY CARES about the boy and is not going to say half truths! Guess Holmes' domestic abuse/messy domestic life traumas senses are also tingling!

Watson drinking his husband's imagine like it's the best hot chocolate ASIDE! Holmes is VERY annoyed by the way the case has been handled! You CAN'T give me such a case! The usual herd of buffalo must have passed already! gr! most DEPLORABLE!

And in fact Holmes is cursing every god he's heard of in his travels. In italian. We're professionals of that. How the HELL do you hope to find this boy now? Does his father even CARE?

A SCENT! FINALLY! A man on a bike disappeared as well! OH DOCTOR, please.

even Watson in our early days could do better than this. Love you Watson, you are MUCH better. Try and lubricate those gears in your head, headmaster, c'mon!

MAKES MORE SENSE, UH?

Well, did he receive anything that could've prompted a flight?

Oh yeah. Father of the year already. Holmes is UNIMPRESSED. (and as daughter of split parents i can say that the sympathies of the child are usually with the parents who behaves REASONABLY in a situation.)

Going over.

Ah, you also know from 'confidential talks.' wow. We'll go as soon as i get my suitcase, you telegraph and tell NOT to say that the Liverpool line has been a total blank. My dearest and myself can still solve something.

Mrs Hudson gets them a picnic basket (i loved that scene from the granada serie. perfect.) and they get to the school.

GASP! LETTER ON THE TABLE! PSST PSST PSST.

Get that man some chamomille, please. He needs it. No need to be this anxious, doctor.

BUT OF COURSE. The duke. He doesn't look like in the pics.

So I, DOCTOR WATSON, will describe him PROPERLY. Oh and the secretary is quite pretty, uh. Yes, Holmes, i love you and you only, but you need to admit he was pretty. (Holmes gets kissed after this-)

W-what? STOP FAULTING THE ONE MAN WHO DID THE RIGHT THING!

It's almost as you wouldn't want the case to be solved, Wilder... Well, languid time for Holmes. I LIKE this case, the air is good and my handsome partner has been pestering em for country air for months. I shall UNDOUBTEDLY take this case. You decide if you help me or i fuck you up!

Poor doctor toh! Luckily the duke has still a brain somewhere there.

Holmes asks some questions and then... last one. the letter!

oh YES, god forbid HiS GrAcE had to lift his noble ass. Of COURSE you posted it, Wilder.

Let's see how this case will go!

#i LOVE the granada episode #i love this story as well! #Holmes wanting to murder rich men is always good #sherlock holmes #letters from watson #john watson #dr watson #victorian husbands

[worriedvision]

Breach (part 3) - Alhaitham

Gender neutral reader, part 2 here. Heizou lovers will like this lol.

Thoma walked with you back to your accommodation. Since Alhaitham took your job, he also took your place of residence. The only reason he hadn't moved his stuff in was because he gave the previous tenant the respect to move their stuff out. You knew Alhaitham was aware you were the tenant, and the fact he didn't simply move his stuff in told you he didn't intend to reconcile with you.

"I didn't even think of the accommodation for you now...sorry, I guess it slipped my mind." Thoma chuckles.

"No need to worry. I'm sure I can find a cave to stay in for a bit. It's not like Inazuma has horrendous weather." You sigh out, Thoma reluctantly nodding before he proceeds to get the last of your things out.

You hang out with Thoma, but you know you'll just stay friends. It just felt weird when you tried to think of him as a boyfriend, and he agreed to stay friends. Even if he did have feelings for you, he knew his work would most likely not allow it anyway.

After dinner, Thoma waves goodbye as after you convince him you'll figure something out for your accommodation.

"Well, hello there." You hear a disembodied voice call out. You look around, not expecting someone to speak at all, and you hear a laugh from above. Looking up, you lock eyes with a pair of green orbs.

The man leaps down, hand hooking onto a branch to help his descent.

"I hear you're in need for a place to stay. It just so happens I need a roommate." The man begins. "Shikanoin Heizou, at your service." He winks, you immediately suspecting he is doing this just to get more juicy information.

"I'm not going to be roommates with someone who's aware of-"

"Do you think I can't find evidence myself?" Heizou gasps, obviously not actually offended by the idea. In fact, it reassured him you were on guard with this. "I just need a roommate, simple as that." He states.

--

Alhaitham returned to his temporary accommodation for the night, hoping you would still be there. Even just an item you missed, or perhaps you would still be waiting for him. He had this hope that you would be holding onto any snippet of hope you would both be together, his inflated ego not helping the reality that hits when he doesn't find anything.

He walks around the place after placing his things down, calling your name. To his dismay, he finds nothing.

He heads to the Harbor, hoping to find you. When he spots Thoma, someone who he was to work with, he figures he's as well asking where you were. Thoma looks over, waving with an unimpressed expression.

"Could you tell me-"

"Well, hello!" Thoma cheers. "We moved their stuff out of your accommodation, did I miss something out?"

"No, you did a perfect job." Alhaitham trails off. "I was hoping you could tell me where they were."

"If you don't mind me asking, why?" Thoma asks, tilting his head. "If it's to apologise for taking their job, I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate it."

"They are the reason I am here." Alhaitham states.

Thoma states are the man for a second, looking for some hint of a joke, before he starts laughing.

"Good one." Thoma chuckles.

"I am being serious." Alhaitham continues, crossing his arms.

"...wait, really?" Thoma asks, eyes widening. "So you're the infamous ex." He sighs out.

"Where are they?" Alhaitham keeps asking, losing patience every time.

"I wish I knew. All I know is they're looking for a place to stay." Thoma states, leaving out the detail that you worked with Ayaka, so he would most likely see you at work.

--

The next day, Ayaka finds out you and Thoma remained friends.

"Oh, well I hope you enjoyed the outing regardless." Ayaka sighs, before looking over. Alhaitham walks by, not looking over, heading straight to where Ayato was.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." You tease, Ayaka violently blushing at your comment.

"Sorry! I'm not used to being attracted to someone, what should I do?" Ayaka admits, looking at you for an answer.

"Well, I'm sure you could begin to court him." You suggest.

You both plan the date for the duo, you knowing what Alhaitham likes while Ayaka has the freshness to keep him from becoming suspicious you were working with her. You could only hope Thoma didn't tell Alhaitham about you.

Alhaitham keeps walking by, mostly with Ayato as he nods to whatever Ayatos saying, and you can tell he isn't actually trying. It's like his purpose wasn't to work there, but you brush that off when you remember Alhaitham's whole thing was logic. You don't speak when he walks by, wishing not to feel the humiliation of him looking over at you.

The next day, Heizou lands up blowing your cover. He calls your name as he enters the area, Alhaitham's head turning to the man, he begins to walk towards Heizou before Ayatos hand grips him tightly, stopping him.

"You have work to do." Ayato chastises lowly, Alhaitham not daring to say anything before following along once again.

You were inside with Ayaka at the time, not knowing about this, and Thoma decides to deal with Heizou. Turns out, Heizou just wanted to skive off work and chat. Thoma tells him off, insisting he needed to keep working. Heizou laughs at Thoma's words, him being reminded of a parent scolding a child before heading off.

That night, Heizou hears someone knock on his door. Opening the door, he's met by Alhaitham.

"Where are they?" Alhaitham asks, demanding an answer.

"Wow, a stalker!" Heizou gasps, before leaning up. "You know, I'm a detective. Be careful."

"Who are you to them?" Alhaitham continues to ask, trying and failing to intimidate Heizou.

"Is that a trick question? I thought you were smarter than this." Heizou teases, Alhaitham unimpressed as usual. "I, am their roommate."

Heizou closes the door after that, deciding not to allow Alhaitham the chance to barge in.

Alhaitham sighs out, before he hears someone walk towards him. He turns, seeing Ayaka there, and he bows to her.

"Would you care to join me for tea?" Ayaka asks.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #alhaitham #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #ayaka #ayato #thoma #kaveh #heizou #heizou x gender neutral reader #heizou x reader #alhaitham x reader

[anna-hawk]

Pairing: Frank Castle x GN!Reader Fandom: The Punisher Rating: E 🔞 Word Count: 3637

Summary: You shouldn't have tried Frank's patience.

Warning/Tags: Dom!Frank – Sub!Reader – Established relationship – Brat taming – sex toys – thigh riding – Safe Sane and Consensual – Punishment – Suit kink

A/N: All I'm going to say is that I blame thank @slavic-empress for this. She sent me a very specific picture and my brain broke 😝 Header by @darlingshane, who always knows what I want with just the smallest details 🧡

Read it on AO3

“Okay, we’re here. Now what do you gotta say for yourself?” 

Frank briskly walks into the apartment and sits down on the couch. He lifts a foot to the pillow and observes you intently as you come to stand before him.

You cross your arms under your chest and lift a mocking brow at him. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“What I mean? Maybe you actin’ like a fuckin’ brat all night ‘n testin’ my patience? Ring a bell?” He growls, tone unimpressed as his dark eyes run over your body. 

You raise your chin defiantly and smirk. 

“What else was I supposed to do when you barely paid any attention to me? I had to entertain myself, right?”

“Oh yeah? So flirting with those men was entertainin’, huh?”

“Well… what really was, was watching you try to keep control while I did it.” 

Frank’s jaw works while his nostrils flare as he tries to fight his irritation. 

“You do remember that we were there for a reason and that I had to make nice with some people.” 

“Oh sure,” you mutter with a displeased twist to your mouth. “For Karen. You’d do anything for Karen, after all.”

Frank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous. You know there’s nothin’ between us.”

“I know that. Doesn’t change the fact that you always do whatever she asks, but when I ask something,” you let your voice drop off meaningfully and shrug. 

Frank rolls his eyes at your tone, but chuckles. 

“I see… Tryna get back at me for not fuckin’ you in the restroom like you wanted to?” Frank gets up from the couch and puts his hands in his pants’ pockets as he comes to stand before you. 

You huff as heat runs down your spine and between your legs at the reminder of how much you’d wanted him earlier. Now. You let your eyes trail over him, like you’d done all evening. Karen had invited you and Frank to a charity gala tonight, and you'd both dressed up to the nines for the occasion. And Frank looked – looks – simply incredible. He’s wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit, the thin lines red, and a black and white striped shirt with a dark gray tie. The hair on top of his head is artfully tousled, while his face shows the slightest bit of scruff. You’re used to Frank dressing casually; denims, a Henley, and plaid shirts being his go-to clothes. You love them on him, there’s no denying that. Seeing him wearing this kind of more formal attire, however, the eternal – as sexy as they are on him – combat boots gone to be replaced by a pair of shiny loafers is taking your brain – and other parts – to a different level. How could you resist him? Or resist the temptation to have him ravish you looking like this? You’d sidled up to him after an hour of mingling, whispering into his ear that you wanted to go to your knees and suck him off right there. Frank, who’d been having an animated conversation – argument – with Matt Murdock, had gritted his teeth and gently tried to tell you that now wasn’t the time. You’d rolled your eyes and only absently noticed Matt’s reddening face before you’d found a mutual friend of yours and Karen and talked to her. You’d tried your luck a little later and even gotten Frank to follow you to the restrooms as you’d pretended to want to freshen up a little. Frank hadn’t played into it, only kissing you lingeringly before returning to the main room. That’s when you’d started wildly flirting with every good-looking man present. 

“And you thought you’d be gettin’ away with it? No consequences at all?” 

You shiver at the veiled threat. Desire sparking in your center. One of his hands moves up to cup your chin, tilting it in such a way that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. 

“Think I asked you a question, Sweetheart.” Frank's voice is deceptively calm.

You swallow, your next breath catching in your throat. 

“No, Sir.”

“So you knew that you'd be punished and still acted like that?” He pauses briefly as he leans in until you're practically nose to nose. “Or were you hoping for it?”

“Maybe?” You hedge, as you bite your lower lip, realizing that you have absolutely no idea what Frank's intentions might be. It's turning you on, but you also know that he's going to make sure that you’ve learned your lesson. 

“Maybe,” he repeats without inflection to his tone. He takes a few steps away from you and observes you calmly, his cool gaze assessing. “Strip and wait by the couch.”

You watch Frank exit the living room and consider, for the briefest of moments, to not do as asked… commanded. Your fingers move to your clothes a second later, though, as you try to figure out what Frank’s going to do to you. Once you’re naked, you put your hands behind your back and link the fingers of one hand around the other wrist to stop yourself from fidgeting. Your back straightens when Frank walks into the room again, a bottle of lube in one hand and in the other-

“No,” you gasp, your eyes riveted to the item in Frank’s other hand. “No, Frank, please. Not that.” 

Frank ignores you and places the lube next to him as he sits down on the couch again. 

“Frank,” you repeat, your voice going higher.

He continues to ignore you as he busies himself with the other object, fixing it around his thick thigh. It looks obscene against his impeccable suit. Frank hasn’t even removed his jacket, the buttons still closed, as if he could stand and walk out the door any second. Once he’s done, he leans back against the couch, legs spread and posture utterly relaxed. You worry your lower lip with your teeth as you’re unable to take your eyes away from Frank’s thigh. 

“Fra-”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? To fuck me in that suit?” 

You lick your dry lips and nod before shaking your head with a whimper. 

“I want you. Not… That,” you can’t stop the sulky way the last part comes out. 

“Oh, baby, then maybe you should’ve thought things through before messin’ with me, hm? Brats don’t get to have the real thing.” Frank’s head slightly moves from side to side as he smirks and runs the tip of his tongue over his front teeth. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I – please? You’re so big and hot and that thing isn’t. I wanna feel you so bad,” you plead, taking a step between his legs to kneel in front of him. 

“I know you do. That’s why you’re not gettin’ it. But hey, look, I’m not that mean, I brought the warming lube you love so much.” His smug smirk widens in satisfaction as he watches you realize that he’s found the perfect way to punish you. 

Frank opens the bottle and pours a nice amount onto the thick, black dildo that’s attached to his thigh by a large strap. Fuck, as much as you’ve enjoyed that toy before, you hate it right now. You crave to have Frank inside you, feel him stretch you, and you know that, warm lube or not, the toy won’t feel anything like him. 

“Saddle up, Sweetheart.” 

With one last attempt to sway Frank, you let your hands slide up his thighs, making sure to bypass the toy as you do so, and reach for his crotch. Frank shuts his fingers around your wrists in an unrelenting grip, the pressure tight around your skin. You gasp loudly and snap your eyes to his, shivering at the warning in them. Swallowing hard, you finally rise to your feet and gingerly straddle the thigh with the toy on it. 

“There we go, baby, there we go,” Frank rumbles in satisfaction as he watches you get into position. “Now, show me how you get yourself nice n' ready for me.” He holds out the bottle and lifts an expectant eyebrow at you.

You obediently stick out a hand for him to drizzle some of the lube over your palm. It has a warm fragrance to it. Frank's remark about you loving it had been accurate. You much prefer it when you're using it while you're riding him, though. With a sigh, you spread the thick liquid over your fingers, determined to try to lure Frank into giving in to you by putting on the best show possible for him. 

You sensually slide your hand down your body, leaving a faint trail of warmth at the touch of the lube on your skin, then dip between your legs, your eyes never leaving Frank's as you do so. One of Frank's arms is spread over the back of the couch, while the other one is bent to allow his fingers to rest against his lips as he observes you, expression unreadable to your great frustration. No matter, you rub two fingers against yourself, a sigh of pleasure escaping you. 

“Imagine, this could be you,” you moan as you slip a finger inside you, followed by a second one soon after. “You'd fill me so good, make me scream… Isn't that what you love most, Frank? Make me scream. Fuck me so hard and good that my throat is sore when you're done with me.”

Frank's hard now, that much is clear from how his dick is pushing against the tight material of his dress pants. You also know that Frank can hold out forever, meaning that as long as he hasn't acted, nothing's won for you. 

Frank chuckles, a deep and amused laugh. He shakes his head and smirks. 

“I dunno if I should let you continue to try to get me to fuck you, or if I should tell you to save it, cause it's not gonna happen.”

You groan, in despair this time, and rub over your flesh, right where you need it the most, to compensate for the lack of his touch. 

“None of that.” Frank swats away your wandering hand. “Only said to get yourself ready, nothin’ else.” 

“Fuck you,” you bite out before you’re able to catch yourself, and stare at Frank with wide eyes once the words have left your mouth. 

His eyes darken and his jaw clenches. 

“Don’t try me again, Sweetheart. Think you did enough for tonight.”

You nod quickly, and Frank relaxes again. 

“Now, show me how good you can ride my thigh.” 

Moving over the toy, you slowly sink onto it, biting your lower lip as you whimper when it breaches you. 

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it,” Frank croons as he watches you like a hawk. 

Once you’re fully seated, you slowly circle your hips to get used to the toy and gasp at the warm feeling procured by the lube and how the dildo rubs inside you. You’d have hoped to at least have Frank’s hands on you once the toy's inside you, but he strategically keeps them on the back of the couch, nothing but his legs touching you. You begin moving up and down, sighing at the drag of the toy against your walls. It's not Frank's cock, but it still feels good to be filled. Frank hums contentedly as you push up and down, your ass bouncing against his covered thigh, while the lube makes a squelching sound each time you lower yourself completely. 

Your hands remain on your thighs as you work yourself on the toy, your fingers twitching as you moan. You want more, though. You need to feel Frank under your hands and reach out for his shoulders. Frank won't let you, however. He catches your wrists and holds them together in front of you in one of his large palms when you try to touch him. Understanding his refusal, you try to pull your hands back, but Frank doesn't let you do that either. He cocks his head at you with a tiny smirk, his other arm still on the couch. You resume your movements, your balance slightly off now that Frank's holding your hands out before you, forcing your thighs to work harder. Panting in effort, you stare at Frank with glassy eyes, setting out to give him what he wants; what you need. His other hand finally leaves the couch and comes to rest on your hip, gripping your skin there. You shiver at his burning touch and cry out sharply when you raise your hips, only for him to suddenly use his grip on you to make you slam down on the dildo. He guides you wordlessly, eyes burning into yours and traveling over your body with unbridled lust. Ecstatic to finally see more than a halfway neutral expression, you let Frank do as he pleases. It isn't a hardship anyway, having his hands on you is firing up your senses. 

“Keep going,” Frank growls before he lets go of your hip to lift that hand and use it to tweak one of your nipples. The pleasurable pain shoots through you like a lightning bolt, making you cry out at the same time your back bows inwards. 

To your surprise, Frank doesn't leave the sweet torture at that and leans in to capture your other nipple with his mouth. The sharpness of his teeth makes itself known as he tugs on your nipple with them, before he harshly sucks on the abused flesh. He only does that for a short amount of time since he still has a hold on your wrists, and his closeness stops you from really moving your hips. Instead, he leans back again and watches you intently. A moment later, he brings two fingers down on a nipple. Hard. You jerk and scream at the sharp sting, your hips falling off their rhythm. 

“Please touch me, Frank. I can't come like this,” you cry, the attack in your skin and senses driving you wild but leaving you unable to come anyway. 

“Then you better work harder, baby, cause I ain't helpin' ya.”

You wail in despair and frustration, hanging your head as you work your legs faster, grind down harder. You lean forward to get the toy to rub where you need it most, but shit, it's just not enough. 

“Please, Frank. I need you… something, just-”

“Know you can do it, Sweetheart. Work that gorgeous body like when you're riding my dick. Always takin' me down to the hilt, like you're fuckin' made for me.”

“Cause I am. I'm yours. Only yours, Frank,” you babble as you bounce faster on top of him.

“Tha's right. Fuckin' mine. Mine to watch and see you gettin' off on my thigh. No one else gets to see you like that.” Frank highlights those words with a resounding smack to your ass, the sound sharp compared to your delirious moans, the gesture making the toy jiggle inside you.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Your legs begin to shake with the effort to keep going, but it's finally here, the tingling sensation of your orgasm.

“Look at me,” Frank orders, making you realize that you had closed your eyes at some point, and open them again. “You're comin' for me, don't you forget that. Your pleasure's mine and I wanna see all of it.”

You can only nod, wide-eyed, as you barrel over the edge at his words. You're his. Only his. Like he is yours. A keen of utter bliss leaves your mouth as you convulse on top of him, your burning legs giving out at last, and making you fully sink onto the toy while your hips keep spasming. Only Frank's hand on your wrists keeps you from falling into him. You gasp and pant, noticing that your release and the lube are drenching his clothes as you look down. Embarrassment and satisfaction mingle at the sight.

“You did good, Sweetheart, so good.” Frank stares at you with hunger. 

Your face forms a small, proud smile. Frank lets go of your hands, and you feel him unbuckling the strap of the dildo. You gingerly lift your hips and slip off his thigh to end on your knees before Frank. From this close, you can see the stains on Frank's clothes even better. Still in a haze, you watch Frank fully take off the dildo from his thigh and look at it before his eyes fall on you again. 

“Open up,” he tells you, his voice raspy but steady. 

You eye the toy, shiny from a mix of lube and yourself, and do as told, your mouth opening wide. Frank hums in satisfaction and pushes the toy between your lips. You groan at the taste and fight to close your eyes, intent to catch each of Frank’s expressions. A new wave of excitement runs through you as you see him finally opening his pants and taking himself out. He slowly strokes his cock and smirks when you whimper with need. He takes the toy out of your mouth and tosses it to the side carelessly. You lick your lips in anticipation as Frank stands, already shuffling on your knees to get in the best position. Frank huffs out a small laugh. 

“You really think you gonna get to have my dick tonight?”

Your gaze quickly goes to his as understanding hits you. 

“But… I did good, you said.”

“And you did, Sweetheart. Real good. But what kinda punishment would it be if I gave you what you want? You can count yourself lucky that I allowed you to come, don’t you think?” 

You suck in your lower lip as you listen, and nod. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper. 

Frank hums, pleased, and strokes a thumb over your lips. 

“So good for me now, Baby.” 

He pushes your lip down, and you automatically open your mouth enough for Frank to slip his thumb inside and press onto your tongue. You groan and suck on the digit, your eyes going to what his other hand is doing; reaching down on the couch for the lube. He uncaps the bottle and pours a large dollop onto the length of his cock. He snaps it shut and chucks the bottle back to the couch. Since he’s standing right before you, his cock is just there in front of you. Frank groans as he coats his full length with the gel, seemingly enjoying the warmth of it like you had. 

“Hands on your thighs,” Frank rumbles, his nostrils flaring with lust.

Doing as told, you feel his thumb vanish from your mouth, only to be replaced by his index and middle finger, both of them slipping over your tongue. You moan as you understand what he wants and begin sucking enthusiastically. Frank grunts and fists himself harder while he finger-fucks your mouth with quick movements. You can’t get enough of watching him like that, standing still fully dressed in that neat suit, and wildly stroking his gorgeous, rock-hard cock. You don’t hesitate to accommodate the third finger that Frank pushes against your lips, opening your mouth wider and feeling your drool running over the sides of your chin. Frank curses loudly as he makes you choke after he's gone for the back of your throat. You keep going, sucking and moaning wantonly around his fingers, wanting to see him come so badly. It doesn’t take him long after that, and you sigh and whimper in satisfaction as he comes in thick spurts all over your chest. 

He pants loudly as he watches you through heavily lidded eyes and gently pulls out his fingers. Your jaw is slightly sore since his fingers are on the thicker side, but you welcome the burn gladly, pleased that you helped get him off despite not touching him at all. Frank cups your chin and wipes at the trails of spit on it with a small grin. After he's put himself back into his pants and closed them, Frank bends down while simultaneously tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin. He kisses you slowly, almost chastely, before he straightens. 

“Come on, Sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up.” Frank takes you by an elbow and helps you stand. Which you are glad for, as you realize just how wobbly your legs still are. 

You don't miss the smug smile on Frank's face, but only roll your eyes good-naturedly. You can tell that the scene is over, since Frank only chuckles at your reaction and kisses your temple as he pulls you against his side. 

He leads you to the bathroom and turns on the shower before turning towards you again. You watch him silently as he finally takes off the suit, mindful of putting each article of clothing back on their respective hangers. 

“I don't know if I'm happy or disappointed to see it gone,” you muse, once Frank's fully naked before you and you let your eyes trail over him. 

Frank laughs but doesn't comment, choosing to tug you into the shower with him. You sigh happily as he washes your hair and body, and embraces you while kissing you slowly. 

“Make sure to tell Karen that we'll be there for any other of those galas or whatnot things,” you intone as you're lying in bed with your head on Frank's chest some thirty minutes later. 

“Are you tellin' me that you didn't learn your lesson tonight?” Frank questions after a beat of silence, voice carefully neutral again. 

You smile to yourself.

“What can I say? Sometimes I need a little reminder for things to sink in completely.”

“Fuckin’ brat,” Frank growls before he wrestles you to your back and kisses away your laugh, his lips pulled up as well. 

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x gn!reader #reader insert #frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #mes fics #writing #fanfiction

[m1dnyt3-w0lf]

Chapter 1: Moving In

Word count: 4,948

I prepared my surroundings to be at least presentable. I fiddled with this and fiddled with that. At this point, I was nervously cleaning. How could I tell? Because my room was already spotless. I gulped and attempted to take a calming breath, sitting at my desk to look at my open laptop. I was moving to New York City soon for school in the fall, and I needed to find a roommate. I tried looking for an apartment, but I was not able to afford any of the available apartments, so rooming with someone was my best bet. I glanced at the time. Eleven-fifty-five. Five more minutes, and I'll be on a call with, hopefully, my future roommate. I got up again and started to pace. I needed to release the nerves. I shook out my hands, then twisted them together, then shook them out again. I'm not sure when, but I started to mutter to myself, just started voicing my thoughts out loud. Like, what if I'm not able to find a roommate? What if this one doesn't work out like the rest? What if he's a creep like the others? What if-

BEDOO-DOO…BEDOO-DOO…

I lunged for my laptop and quickly answered, shifting in my seat to sit correctly and smile. Although, I was sure my hair was a mess from the rush.

"Hi." I say, looking at the man in front of me. He had dark brown hair that was brushed back with one strand falling forward over his forehead. His dark brown eyes held a cold and calculated look that made me nervous but excited at the same time. His face was nothing short of a model, high cheekbones, full lips, the whole works! I wouldn't put it past him if he was awarded the most handsome man on earth. He also seemed to have quite broad shoulders with the way he took up the screen.

"Hello, you're Ashley Hernandez, correct?" He asked, his voice a deep lull that sounded on the brink of boredom, his accent not helping in his overall tone. I gulped.

"Yes, I am! And you're…" Shit, what was his name?! "Manuel?" My own accent seeped out.

"Miguel." He corrected, annoyance leaking into his voice as his eyes seemed to gaze into my soul. The blood drained from my face. "Miguel O'Hara."

"Oh, right. Heh, sorry, I'm not the best at names." I let out a nervous chuckle. He looked unimpressed. So much for first impressions.

"Right. Well, you'll have time to learn it soon enough." He said, taking a sip from his mug. I assumed it was coffee. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh or snicker at his words.

It's a dirty joke just waiting to happen! I thought. I took a slow breath. No, I can't do that. I don't even know the guy! Or if he'll even get the joke. How old was he anyway? Forty? Fifty? Whatever, he was old.

"I will?" I ask him instead, destroying my train of thought. His eyes flashed to me as he set his mug down.

"Yes, just looking at your application tells me you're the perfect candidate for my new roommate."

"I am?!" I yelp out. I quickly cleared my throat and backtracked, speaking in a much calmer tone. "I am?"

Somehow, my shenanigans pulled at a small smile from my future roommate, seemingly amused. But just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. I could feel his eyes boring into me after that. It made me feel the need to shift my shirt slightly, making it appear baggier than it already was.

"When should I expect you to move in?" He asks finally.

"Uh," my nervousness seeps into my voice. I clear my throat once again. "In about a month."

"A month? Why not immediately? I was under the impression it would be immediately." He questions, confusion seeping into his voice.

"Well, it would be a bit hard to move in immediately since I currently live in California, and I didn't expect to actually be accepted to being your new roommate. And, anyway, I've got things to pack and ship out before I can make my way over." I ranted to him, waving my arms about as I spoke. He listened until I had finished speaking, nodding.

"I wasn't aware you were across the country." He looked at me, brown eyes looking into my own blue ones. "Alright, I'll wait until then. Any designated date of when you'll be here?"

"On the thirtieth of July, or rather, the thirty-first for you." I told him with a firm nod.

"I suppose I'll see you then."

"Miguel?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind picking me up from the airport on the thirty-first?" He looked taken aback. "I promise to pay back the gas and trouble."

"No need." He tells me, holding his hand up to stop any other words. Geez, his hand looked huge. I couldn't help glancing at my own hand, tiny compared to his.

"I'll gladly pick you up, just let me know when your arrival time will be and I'll be there."

~~~One Month Later…~~~

"Miss? Miss, we'll be landing soon." The stewardess gently shook my arm, successfully waking me.

"Hm? Oh, okay." I say softly, rubbing my eyes as I sit up. I yawned into the back of my hand as I looked out the window beside the other passenger. He was an old man reading a book, though he was only now in the middle of the book from where he started at first. My gaze looked out the window, eyes widening at the sight of all the twinkling lights of the Big Apple. My breath caught in my throat. I was here. I finally made it. I've officially completed one of my dreams. A small smile appeared on my face as tears brimmed my eyes.

I did it! Me! I thought. The old man looked at me and smiled.

"I know that look." He said, chuckling. I look at him, sheepish.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading." I say in apology.

"No worries, I was done for the night." He says with a chuckle. "What are you coming to New York for?"

"Schooling. I plan to be a writer someday." I told him. The plane starts to descend.

"Oh, maybe I'll read a book of yours soon." He says with a bright smile.

"What about you, sir? What brings you to New York?"

"Ah, it is the place I grew up. I have family waiting for me." He smiled nostalgically.

"That's sweet."

"How about you?"

"Pardon?" The plane landed.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you?" He asked. I looked into his eyes. They were a handsome hazel that dazzled in the dim plane lights and shone dull from his years.

"Um, no. Just a roommate. He's picking me up." I told him.

"Oh, a 'he!'" He chuckled. I felt my cheeks burn with heat.

"Oh, it's not like that! He's just a roommate." I quickly told him. The old man only chuckled as the plane stopped.

"I only tease! An old man can joke." He chuckled more. I chuckled with him as the surrounding people started to get up to get their things.

"Right, right." It took roughly five minutes for the crowd to disperse. During this time, I turned on my data and turned off my ringtone. I didn't want to disturb anyone if I got a buttload of messages which, knowing my family, I would have many. I helped the old man up and asked if he had a carry-on with him. He said he didn't but thanked me for the sentiment anyway. He then walked away as I turned to my duffle bag in the luggage compartment.

It was an old one I used to use when visiting family. It was small but could hold at least a week's worth of clothing in it, along with some essentials. I plan to hit the market this morning so I can buy the other necessities I couldn't exactly bring with me.

With my bag in hand, I make my way out of the plane and out into the waiting area. I moved out of the way for the remaining passengers as I surveyed the area. No Miguel. I should've known he wouldn't have come to greet me like that. He's just here to pick me up. I hurried on to the designated pick-up location, checking my phone to see if he sent a message. Nothing. I chewed my lip as I wondered if I should send another text. Maybe he was still sleeping? Maybe he forgot? I walked out into the lot, looking around but not seeing that man anywhere. I started to get worried even though I just got there.

"Ashley?" A voice says from behind me.

"Yeah?" I turn around, eyes landing on a large chest. "Oh my-"

I looked up, needing to crane my neck slightly to meet Miguel's eyes. He was tall and buff. He wore a fitted, black crew-neck shirt with gray, flannel pajama bottoms. He took my breath away, just the sheer size of him was enough to dwarf me. I wasn't the only one staring either. Many people were staring. I backed up away from him slightly to give some ease on my neck.

"Miguel?" I asked in astonishment. He only nods.

"Shall we go now?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." I quickly say, adjusting the strap of my duffle bag. He wordlessly led me to his car. A sleek black car that shined under the lights. I wasn't a car person, but it looked beautiful.

"Nice car." I complimented as Miguel unlocked his car, opening his trunk.

"Thank you. Bag?"

"Hm? Oh, here!" I quickly handed him my bag. Once placed in, he closed the trunk and walked over to open the passenger door.

"Ah, thanks." I tell him, flushing a bit from embarrassment. I hurry in, hearing some lady passing by as I get in.

"Lucky girl." I felt even more embarrassed, but Miguel seemed unaffected. Did he get those kinds of comments all the time? I mean, he must, right?

He got in the driver's seat and started the car, driving out of the parking space and driving off onto the highway. For a while, we stayed silent. I looked out my window, settling into the thought that I literally knew no one except Miguel. Well, actually, not even him. I hoped I could change it, but between school and my hunt for a job, I doubted I'd even have enough time for socializing.

"Hungry?" Miguel asked, tearing me out of my thoughts. I looked at him.

"A little bit." He only nods and starts merging into the next two lanes.

"Wait, where are we going?" I ask him.

"I know a place to eat."

"This late at night?" It was two in the morning. What the heck was going to be open?

"I know a place." He simply repeated. I felt uneasy. Was I supposed to just let him take me somewhere foreign in a foreign place trapped in a foreign land? Foreign sounds weird now, doesn't it? It wasn't like I could stop him anyway. I was stuck under his mercy. All I could do was hope he wasn't going to murder me. I tried to keep a tab on all the turns and street names passing by, but nothing stuck. I was never the best with directions. I watched street after street pass by until, finally, Miguel slowed the car to a stop by a small shop. From the outside, it wasn't much. There was a blocked and barred window with an open sign on it. The door was wide open and emitted a sickly, pale light.

"This is the place." Miguel killed the engine and got out. I went to do the same, taking my mini backpack with me. However, my movement came to a complete standstill as my nose was assaulted by the most delicious smells I've ever smelled in my life. Miguel had come around by then, sticking a hand into his pocket. It was then that my stomach chose to growl loudly. Miguel held open the door as he looked at me with a mildly amused expression.

"Sounds like you're hungrier than a little bit." He repeats my words in a teasing tone. I huff and get out of his car.

"Oh, hush it." I tell him, flushing from embarrassment. I've been in this man's presence for only thirty minutes, and I've felt nothing but embarrassment. Miguel lifted his hand up in defense, waiting until I was out of the car to close the passenger door and lock the car.

"After you." He offered. I give him a smile as thanks and head inside. I felt Miguel's presence loom behind me and give me a shiver. I walk into the shop and give a look around. The shop was small. On my right, there were a few empty tables and some chairs pushed into them. There was a long counter on my left, the dish pans inside holding varying meats, veggies, and salsas. I look up to the menu above the counter and see Mexican meals from tacos to burros ahogadas to even menudo. Obviously, that's only on the weekend. My mouth started to water as I read through all the familiar foods.

"Señor O'Hara!" A lady who seemed to be in her fifties walked up to the counter from the kitchen and smiled. "¿Como estas, hijo?"

"¿Muy bien, y gusted?" He asked her. I looked between the two as they spoke, feeling like a sore thumb between them. They spoke civilly until the lady's attention was on me.

"¿Y quien es esta dama tan bonita?" She asked. Miguel opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it, a blush on my cheeks as I spoke.

"Hola, soy Ashley." I said simply with a wave and a shy smile. Miguel gave me a look, his expression unreadable.

"¡Ah, hola Ashley! Soy Betitua, pero me puedes llamar Beti." Beti said with a smile. I giggle slightly, my nerves easing. She chuckled and reverted to English, her accent a little on the thick side. "What can I get you both?"

"The usual, Beti." Miguel told her then looked at me. I quickly looked back up to the menu, chewing my lip in thought. They all sounded so good! Then my eyes landed on the prices.

Oh. That's expensive. I thought as my heart sank. I was smart and had saved some money for necessities and groceries and whatnot, but if just this shop was this expensive, then what was the rest going to look? Worry began to seep into my head. What if I wasn't ready for this? What if I failed? What if I go broke?

A hand rested gently on my shoulder, making me jump and pull me out of my thoughts.

I looked up and met Miguel's eyes. They shined with kindness, an odd softness I didn't think he was capable of.

"I offered to go eat, I'm paying. Choose what you want." Miguel crouched slightly as he spoke to me. Damn my shortness.

"Oh, no, Miguel, I couldn't-" A gentle squeeze from his hand halted me. He looked into my eyes, sincerity pooled deeply within those chocolate drops.

"I insist." He rumbled. I gulped. "Besides, it'd be rude to deny a nice act from your roommate."

Conflict plagued my brain. On one hand, I was raised to never take handouts as that would make me a beggar. On the other hand, I was also raised to never be rude in any way. Oh, he had me cornered, but my hunger won out. I look away from his eyes in defeat and let out a sigh.

"Alright, alright." I look up at the menu again, choosing one of the cheap options. "May I have a burro de birria?"

"Coming right up!" Beti said before walking back into the kitchen. Miguel straightened and finally removed his hand from my shoulder. He walked to one of the tables and sat. I quickly did the same, sitting across from him and laying my bag down between my feet. Silence befell us, and with the silence came my fidgeting. With nothing to distract me, I start to look around, bouncing my leg and twisting my fingers this way and that. The shop was simple, some pictures hung on the wall for random landscapes and a mural on the far end of the shop. There was a fridge behind the counter that held many drinks and desserts within it. After seeing everything there was to see, I grew bored.

I tried not to glance at Miguel, but I found it impossible to. I kept giving quick flashes at him, observing him in quick spurts. He simply sat there, not really staring at anything. At one point, I stopped giving quick glances and started to get bold. I stared for longer and took in his features. His high cheekbones, the way his hair fell over his forehead, his eyebrows that seemed to cling to the top of his eyes, everything. At this point, I memorized his features. I tried to read for any sign that may indicate his emotions, but he was about as blank as a piece of wood. Scratch that, wood had more emotion than he did at this moment.

Then his eyes met mine.

It happened so fast. I jumped and quickly looked away, pointedly moving my body away from him as my cheeks burned from embarrassment. I'm such a fucking idiot, how could I allow myself to stare?!

Ugh, he probably thinks I'm a weirdo now. I thought as I thinned my lips. We sat in a more awkward silence. I knew I did this, I hated it.

Say something, damn it! I screamed in my head. But just as I started to think about what to say, Miguel spoke.

"What part of California are you from?" Miguel asked. I looked back at him, surprised to see calm eyes looking back. I shifted in my seat to better face him.

"In Gardena, around the Los Angeles area." I answer.

"What's it like there?"

"Uh, it's warm practically year round. It's kinda on the poor side. I lived right by the beach, so that's kinda cool. Morning fogs during the spring and fall seasons." I tell him, brows furrowed as I try to think of everything.

"Sounds nice. Why come all the way out here?" He sounded almost accusatory. I bit my tongue to stop any retort from escaping. I needed to stay civil.

"I'm going to school here. I heard Fordham University was the way to go for my writing major." I say a bit tersely.

"Writing? Like journalism." He had a small scowl on his face.

"No, creative writing, like stories." I huff out.

"And how do you plan for this degree to help you?" Now he was just jabbing at me.

"It's helping me better my craft."

"Oh, so you came with the dead end."

"Dead end?!"

"You can't become a writer overnight."

"I'm willing to put in the work."

"And if it takes you nowhere?"

"It will."

"How do you know?"

"I-"

"Here's your food!" Beti said suddenly, placing the plates of food in front of me and Miguel. I immediately turned to Beti with a warm smile.

"Thank you, it smells really good." I say. It smelled just like how my grandma made it. It made me a little homesick, but I suppose that's a good thing with food. Beti returned the smile and gave my cheek a loving pat.

"You're welcome, mi linda. Is there anything else I can get you?" I shake my head.

"No, thank you."

"Por su puesto, mi hijita." She turned to Miguel and gave him a very disapproving glare. "Comportaté."

I shot him a smug look as his face reflected offense, staring at the lady's back as she walked away.

"¿Y yo qué hice?" He called after her. He turned to me and glared as I smugly grabbed my utensils and dug in. Miguel huffed and ate as well. The entire meal went by in silence. There wasn't much room for me to talk anyway as I shoveled bite after bite into my mouth. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning due to nerves, and now that I was here and safe, I had nothing to worry about. I told my parents I'd be fine.

Shit! My fork and knife fell with a clatter as I hurriedly dug my phone out of my bag. Miguel glanced up at me, his taco inches away from his mouth for his next bite.

"Are you alright?" He asked, eyeing me as I quickly unlocked my phone and typed away. I chewed my lip as my leg bounced with nerves.

'I've landed safe and sound! Currently eating some food with my new roommate'

"Fine, just letting-" I was cut off by my phone's ringtone going off. I look at the caller ID and see my mom's contact. What the hell is she doing still up?! I answered quickly and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, mom!"

"Oh, it's so good to hear from you! Why didn't you text me as soon as you landed?!" She reprimanded. I chuckled nervously, trying to avoid Miguel's questioning look. How could he arch his eyebrow that high when they seemed to be glued to his eyes?

"I'm sorry, I got distracted." I tell her nervously. If there's one thing you don't mess with, it's a Latina mom.

"Ay, you and being distracted. What am I going to do with you?" I opened my mouth to speak but heard my dad on the other end and stopped, knowing he was going to take the phone next.

"Hi, mija, we're glad you landed safely."

"Hi, papí." I didn't miss how Miguel nearly choked on his food. I spared him a glance before focusing back on the conversation at hand. "How's everything on your end?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old." My dad said. I could imagine him waving his hand to dismiss my question, the image making me smile softly.

"Mhm, that so?" I asked, not believing him.

"Okay, okay, you got me. We miss you muchos, mijita." He admitted. I smiled sadly, missing them just as much.

"I miss you guys too. I promise you the holidays will come by faster than you think!" I reassure them, my tone light and happy while my face showed just how devastated I was that I wouldn't be able to see them until then. Miguel watched me, something simmering in his eyes I couldn't quite catch. I was still trying to avoid his eye, obviously.

"Bueno, ojala, it is soon." My dad tells me, his voice full of sadness.

"It will be, I promise you that." I was barely keeping myself together. "Alright, I have to go. It's pretty rude of me to be talking on the phone while with company."

"Ah, sí, of course, of course." My dad said with a chuckle. "Enjoy your date."

"He's not-" I started but was interrupted by the click of the hangup sound. My cheeks erupted in pink as I put my phone down, clearing my throat.

Every damn time. He's not my boyfriend, dad! I thought in my head as I plastered a smile on my face.

"Sorry about that, you know how family is." I explain quickly, going back to my food. Miguel only nodded.

"Feeling homesick after hearing from them?" He simply asked. I hesitated.

"A little bit. But this is something I have to do. I can't quit now." I say with a determined voice. I worked way too hard and way too much for a little homesickness to tear it all down. No, I will see this through! Miguel only nodded and went back to his food. I did the same, though I was no longer hungry. I picked at my food more than I ate it. When Miguel had finished his meal, I asked for a box and packed up what I couldn't finish. Miguel paid, and we were back on our way to the apartment. We were silent again, simply in our own minds, as music played softly through the radio. I could feel my mind starting to overthink my decision to come out here.

What if it's not all it's cracked up to be? What if I'm not able to wow everyone here like I did back home? What if I'm actually a mediocre writer with an inflated ego? Oh gods, what will I do then?!

"What do you write about?" Miguel asked me suddenly, making me jump. I looked at him, blinking away the remnants of my thoughts.

"Uh, any sort of fiction, really. I've only written short stories before." I told him. If you could call fanfiction that.

"Maybe you should let me read something." I looked at him suspiciously. When did he suddenly have an interest in my writing? The last time I checked, he thought it was a dead-end career.

"What's the catch?" I ask him. He sighs.

"The way I talked to you wasn't fair. I just want to avoid seeing you fail. I'm sure you've got plenty of potential, but I don't want your hopes and dreams crushed. Call it the father instinct in me." He says with a shrug.

"You've got a kid?" I ask him. I wasn't expecting to room with a dad, that wasn't in the advertisement he put out. His lips thinned as his gaze hardened on the road.

"No." He went silent after that, so I didn't press. Was he experiencing baby fever because I was around? That doesn't make sense, I'm twenty-three. How could he be? My eyes slunk back out the window as the air between us grew awkward and left a sour taste in my mouth.

Quick, think of something! I chew my lip in thought before looking over at Miguel again.

"So, what do you do for work?" I ask, thinking an icebreaker question will alleviate the tension building up. Miguel glanced at him, his gaze softening ever so slightly before he looked back out to the road. It was something, at least.

"I'm a bioengineer." He says. I couldn't help the look of disbelief that took over as I gave him a once over.

"You? A bioengineer?"

"Yes, I study the-"

"I know what they do, Miguel, I just don't believe you are one."

"And why is that?"

"I mean, look at you! You're the spitting image of a gym rat." I joked. Though, that quickly died down as he gave me another glance with an unamused expression this time.

"And what is a bioengineer supposed to look like?" Miguel questioned, his eyes narrowed on the road as if challenging me to answer.

"Uh…like a nerd?" I tried. I chuckled nervously as this only caused Miguel to look more pissed off than before. I gulped.

"I'm starting to rethink this arrangement." He said with an annoyed tone.

"No, no, please! I'm sorry, I was only joking, I swear!" I quickly told him. I couldn't lose this apartment, I had nowhere else to go!

"So was I." He smirks. An offended look makes my jaw drop.

"You didn't sound like you were joking."

"I sounded like that to myself." He said with a shrug. I huff and look back out the window, crossing my arms.

"It wasn't funny." I mumble.

What an asshole. I think, glaring out my window. Silence falls between us as Miguel continues the drive back to his apartment.

I take my phone out and click on Tumblr. It was the only place where I posted my works. Mostly fanfiction, really, but I was working on a book. I had high hopes I'd be finished by Christmas. But hope and reality were two different things. I sigh and click on the "notes" of my most recent post. I read through the comments and reblogs, smiling to myself at the positive feedback I received. The piece was of that Spider-Man guy. The news had been crazy about recently. I noticed a goldmine of fans obsessed for any bit of work to thirst over, so I figured, why not? Might as well give some fan service. The post had reached higher numbers than I expected. It satisfied me. I didn't care about the numbers or anything, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't boost my ego. I smirk to myself. Miguel didn't know what he was talking about, I knew I could make it.

After reading through all the feedback, I lock my phone and look out the window once more. I realized with a shock that I was in New York. Home of Spider-Man. How weird, right? I mean, here I am, a fanfiction writer, in the homestate of Spider-Man, the very man I wrote my recent piece about. What are the chances I'd actually see him in action? It's probably slim, but a girl can hope. Hell, it would help with learning his moves and better portray him in my writing. Clips can only do so much justice, and, what can I say, I'm a sucker for accuracy.

I yawn into the back of my hand, getting more comfortable and sinking into the seat. I'm sure just resting my eyes for a few moments wouldn't hurt. Just a moment to let my mind think of new ideas and whatnot. Just…a few…moments.

Before I knew it, I was out like a light.

Translations

If you'd like to be tagged/untagged let me know!

Ch 2

Tags: @crocs-blogs @madschiavelique @arithestrawberry @eveandtheturtles @myownsimp @thel0velykey190 @obi-mom-kenobi @thelaundrybitch @raphsmuneca @symmetricalkazekage

#m1dnyte w0lf #m1dnyt3 w0lf fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x self insert #miguel ohara x ashley hernandez #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv #atsv fanfiction

[donovanlizzie]

JUNGLE ROT - ROBERT LECKIE

Under the sweltering heat of the jungle of Guadalcanal , Robert Leckie found himself standing in line for jungle rot checks, his gaze fixed on the determined corp-woman conducting the examination. Chuckler, Runner, Hoosier, and Sydney Philips stood nearby, watching with amusement as Leckie, usually a man of wit and charm, fumbled over his words.

Leckie, always the charmer, leaned against a tree, his eyes fixed on the medic.

"Well, hello there, beautiful. You here to check if I'm still in one piece? You, uhh, checking us for jungle rot?"

The corp-woman glanced up from her clipboard, She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Save the charm for someone who cares, Marine. I'm just trying to make sure you don't lose a limb to jungle rot. My job is to make sure you're all fit for duty."

Leckie nodded, trying to regain composure. "Right, of course. Duty. Important. Very important."

Chuckler nudged Runner, smirking. "Looks like Leckie finally met his match."

Runner added with a grin, "Yeah, she's not falling for his smooth talk."

Hoosier raised an eyebrow, glancing at the two men with a bemused expression, " you call that smooth talkin'?"

Leckie, unaware of the exchange, continued his attempt at conversation. "So, uh, what's your name?"

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That's not important. Just focus on the inspection."

Leckie's cheeks flushed slightly as he stuttered, "Okay. Sorry."

As the corp-woman examined him, she instructed, "Can you lift your shirt for me?"

Leckie, finding a sudden spurt of bravery, retorted with a chuckle, "Wanna buy me dinner first?"

The boys, including Chuckler and Hoosier, chuckled at Leckie's quip. Even the corp-woman couldn't suppress a small smile. "Just lift your shirt, Marine."

Leckie obliged, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his small victory. The corp-woman continued her examination, her professionalism evident despite the banter.

Once the inspection was over, Leckie flashed her a sheepish grin. "Thanks for, um, checking me over."

She nodded, her demeanor softening slightly. "No problem. Just doing my job."

As Leckie rejoined his comrades, Chuckler, still laughing, caught the attention of the corp-woman. Despite being caked in wet sand, mud, and possibly other bodily fluids, she held herself with a sense of confidence. Chuckler couldn't help but admire her self-assuredness.

The corp-woman met Chuckler's gaze and said, "You next."

Chuckler's laughter subsided as he gave her a mock salute. "Ready when you are, ma'am."

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

The following day, under the scorching sun, Leckie found himself once again trailing the corp-woman as she moved from one Marine to another. Gathering his courage, he fell into step beside her. "Hey, uh, I was just wondering, why did you join the Corps? What's your story?"

She shot him a sidelong glance, her expression guarded. "Why does it matter?"

Leckie stumbled over his words, attempting to articulate his curiosity. "I-I just thought, you know, we're all here, facing the same hell. Figured we could share a bit about ourselves, maybe make this place a bit more bearable."

Her gaze softened for a moment, and she sighed. "Fine. My story is nothing special. I joined because I wanted to make a difference, and this seemed like the way to do it."

Leckie nodded, sensing there was more to it. "And your family? You got siblings back home?"

Her eyes flickered with a mix of sadness and reluctance. "No family. No siblings. I was left on the steps of my local church when I was a baby"

Leckie's eyes widened in surprise, and his tone softened. " oh uh - that must've been tough growing up without a family."

She shrugged, her expression hardening again. "Life's tough for everyone, Marine. I learned to fend for myself."

Leckie, wanting to connect on a personal level, continued, "I get that. I really do. My family's not perfect either, but they're mine, you know? We may not always see eye to eye, but we're family."

She shot him a warning look. "Don't try to pity me, Robert. I don't need it."

Leckie, recognizing her need for distance, held up his hands defensively. "No pity, just... trying to understand. We're all in this together."

As they walked, Leckie found himself stealing glances at her. In the harsh sunlight, he couldn't help but notice the way her hair caught the light, or the determination in her eyes. For a split second, he forgot all about Vera back home. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Her stern gaze met his, and she spoke with finality. "I joined the Corps to focus on the mission. Not to make friends or share sob stories. Let's keep it professional."

Leckie, despite his genuine attempt to connect, nodded in understanding. "Alright, professional it is. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

She grunted slightly, simply walked away, leaving Robert standing there, a mix of sympathy and respect in his eyes, as he watched her disappear into the crowded beach.

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

As night fell over the battleground, the distant echoes of gunfire and the quiet hum of conversations filled the air. Robert lay on his makeshift cot, ( a lump of soil he formed into the shape of a bed in his foxhole) staring into the darkness, his mind consumed by thoughts of the female medic.

"You know she was given up as a child?" he said into the still night, almost as if talking to the shadows around him.

Hoosier, who was on watch duty, sat nearby, cleaning his rifle with practiced precision. He took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the darkness, and replied in a nonchalant tone, "Yeah, heard somethin' about that."

Robert turned his head toward Hoosier, his expression thoughtful. "Can't imagine what that must've been like for her, growing up without a family."

Hoosier exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes gazing into the distance. "War makes strange bedfellows, Leckie. We all got our own demons to deal with."

Leckie nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze returning to the black expanse above. "Yeah, I suppose so. Still, she's somethin', ain't she? Strong and beautiful, even in the middle of all this mess."

Hoosier chuckled, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Careful, Leckie. You're starting to sound like a poet or somethin'. Ain't gonna make the war any easier."

Leckie grinned, the irony not lost on him. "Maybe not, but it makes the moments a bit more bearable. You ever find someone who makes you forget, even if just for a moment?"

Hoosier shrugged, the weight of his experiences evident in his tired eyes. "War ain't the place for forgetting, Leckie. But yeah, sometimes you come across someone who makes it a little less unbearable."

As the conversation dwindled into the sounds of the night, the two Marines shared a silent understanding. In the midst of chaos, a fleeting connection with another human soul provided a momentary respite from the harsh reality of war.

Leckie sighed, his thoughts returning to the female medic. "Maybe. Just maybe."

a/n : possible part 2?

MASTERLIST

THE PACIFIC MASTERLIST

#hbo war #the pacific #the pacific hbo #the pacific imagines #robert leckie #Robert Leckie imagine #Robert leckie x reader

[gascon-en-exil]

(Further) Beyond Dream Daddy: A Year of More Gay Dating Sims

Last year for Pride I made a video sharing my thoughts on a selection of gay dating sims, among them Dream Daddy - by far the most well-known title in that genre. My opinion of that game was rather unfavorable, to say the least, but nonetheless I had a lot of fun discussing the topic. Dating sims rarely get any significant analysis or consideration, so it was a novel experience on that basis alone.

Recently, a patron of mine expressed a desire to see me talk about dating sims again. To save myself some work on a project when I've already got so many others going on at the moment, I've opted to do so here on my blog rather than on my channel this time. This also has the added benefit of giving me more latitude to discuss the NSFW qualities of these games without needing to censor myself. When the majority of the titles in this space are explicitly erotic, that's kind of a big deal.

Anyway! Here's a selection of games that I've played in the past year that I thought were worth looking at in some more detail.

Dear Monster

As the title suggests, this one is for the monsterfuckers out there.

This is, sort of, the second time I'm discussing a project by Y Press Games. I've touched on an earlier game of theirs, To Trust an Incubus...but I found it so unimpressive that I never bothered to review it in-depth. In several ways you can tell that Dear Monster comes from the same creative team: there's a similarly large focus on plot with a bunch of variable endings including some very dark ones, all the characters are vers despite many of them playing into familiar top or bottom archetypes, and most obviously the main theme is monsterfucking.

In this case the selection is much broader, as instead of a single species of pheromone-emitting aliens you get your pick from a variety of fantasy creatures. I say "creatures" because Dear Monster isn't afraid to shy away from furry/scalie erotic content for certain scenes, although most of the time the love interests stick to their humanoid forms. There's

a Western dragon as the violent bad boy love interest;

an Egyptian-flavored god of the dead, whose alternate form resembles Anubis and who plays the standoffish tsundere role;

a kitsune for the mischievous and overtly sexual option;

a unicorn who comes off as the caring submissive choice...mostly;

and an orc, who's had a route announced as free DLC later this year but who currently exists only as a recurring NPC

As I said, like To Trust an Incubus there's a noticeable focus on plot here, with the protagonist being a young man newly introduced to the world of the supernatural and trying to locate his mysteriously vanished grandfather inside an obviously magical mansion. Also like their earlier game, there are some unexpected plot twists that I won't spoil here, and overall I'd say this game pulls them off more effectively even if the ending feels a bit unfinished currently. Maybe they're waiting for the orc character's route to properly tie off the story? In any case, Dear Monster is better written than its predecessor and comes with an appreciable variety of kinky scenarios, and despite the lack of voice acting (a very hit-or-miss topic when it comes to dating sims, as I've discussed) the production values are overall quite good. The animated character portraits have been advertised as a highlight but frankly don't contribute to much, and they have a tendency to slow down my computer. Luckily though, they're easily turned off.

Favorite route: A hard call. They all have their highlights, and I'll probably enjoy Slagathor (the orc) when his route comes out. Hikmat (the god of the dead) probably comes out a bit ahead of the others both for his story and for some unexpectedly adventurous sex scenes, like one that incorporates a variant of tentacle porn - points for creativity there. Faeryn (the unicorn) is the one I find least appealing sexually, but on the flip side his route has some of the most unexpected twists and is probably the most helpful for understanding the game's premise as a whole. There's not really a bad option here.

UPDATE: Now that the final route has been released, I can talk about it. It's fine enough, following similar tracks for its good, neutral, and bad endings. Slagathor is vers, just like every other guy in the game. As for the main plot, it does have a resolution once you've gotten satisfactory endings with all five characters, but because it has to be integrated into all of those route endings and doesn't actually impact any of them it feels rather inconsequential as a result. A bit of a shame, really, but I do respect the boldness of some of this game's narrative chioces.

Camp Buddy

Oh, dear. There are some things I need to make clear with this one from the start...stuff I definitely couldn't talk about on YouTube.

To state the obvious first: yes, the characters are all 18+. It's in their in-game profiles, on promotional material online, and on the disclaimer you have to click on whenever you boot up the game. The main character and all his love interests are specifically stated to be 18-20 years old. However...that doesn't always bear out in the writing. The premise is that they're all campers at a scout-themed summer camp, i.e. not something you'd expect of legal adults, and more than half the time these characters are written with the emotional maturity of boys in their mid-teens. That doesn't extend to the sex scenes, beyond most of them being virginal and clueless but somehow still capable of having mind-blowing sex with no lube and simultaneous orgasms and so forth - all of which is pretty standard for these sorts of games. It doesn't consistently affect their storylines either, as they range from adolescent issues like anxiety over losing a close friend to more young adult material like deciding on career paths and moving on from a bad breakup. Having spent a good bit of my own adolescence in an all-male environment, I found most of the character behavior relatable for that demographic. Outside the sex scenes, Camp Buddy is a sweet and sometimes heartwarming story about friendship and making good memories...but the sex stuff is still there, and I can understand why this game isn't listed on Steam based on the premise alone. It is not, as some online have hyperbolically dubbed it, a "child porn" game, but it can be awkward all the same, and if you, like me, are not into twinks/twunks those scenes aren't going to do much for you.

Leaving that aside, it still took me a while to get into Camp Buddy. I was mostly interested in its sequel, which I'll talk about later in this post, but I wanted to play CB in case I missed out on any context with the second game. This one does feel like a first project; the artwork isn't as clean or varied, the voice acting has some standouts but is overall just average, and the script occasionally reads like it was written by someone whose first language isn't English - where the writing isn't incorrect, exactly, but rather worded in ways that don't sound natural. Not all of the scenes are fully voiced, but I really have to wonder how some of those that are got through all those people without anyone realizing how inorganic the dialogue sounded. The humor at least is pretty consistently good, with a highlight being the one major female character who is an affectionate parody of yaoi fangirls leading to a lot of fourth-wall-breaking jokes. As I said some of the storylines work well, even if the main plot is a clichéd and sometimes treacly "save the camp" routine for most of its run. If you can accept the handwave on the characters' ages for the sexual content, it's not a bad time. Given my familiarity with Fire Emblem and its love of underaged-looking dragon girls, and knowing that there are surely far more dating/porn games that use a similar handwave for female characters, I can give CB a pass. I've never cared for how media directed at straight men never warrants more than a moment's worth of moral outrage while everything else gets endlessly scrutinized.

Favorite route: Yoichi is the twunk-iest of the love interests, and his route is easily the darkest as well. Surprisingly he's not the sole total top option...but the guy who is barely grasps of the concept of masturbation and needs to "research" sex after he fools around for the first time. I suppose someone must be into that. Taiga has the most distinctive route as it was added last and has the largest amount of story variance as well as both topping and bottoming variations, but I find the emotional beats of his story (both in and out of his route) to be paced a bit too oddly for me to give him first prize.

Camp Buddy: Scoutmaster Season

This is why I played Camp Buddy, because I saw its follow-up advertised on Steam and was impressed enough by the production values to check it out. I still bought it from developer BLits's website though because certain scenes are removed in the Steam version (for reasons similar to why Camp Buddy isn't there at all). Anyway, Scoutmaster Season is in just about every way a vast improvement over its predecessor:

Most obviously, the characters here look and act unambiguously like adults. Their storylines are also more mature, as is that of the main plot which concerns the camp expanding after it received a new wealthy investor at the end of CB. This maturity extends to the sex as well. These characters aren't experimenting adolescents but rather men who've been casually involved with one another for some time already (heavily implied in the first game) and whose romantic development thus concerns their relationships becoming grounded in emotional support instead of only hot NSA sex.

Camp Buddy is a decently kinky game in its own right, but the sequel takes advantage of its older characters and really runs with the concept. There's bondage, leather, voyeurism, softcore daddy kink, public sex, several varieties of costume role play including two that verge on pony play, threesomes, and a few types of size kink thanks in *ahem* large part to one of the love interests having such a comically oversized cock that in some encounters it can be seen distending the main character's stomach during penetration. I'm...pretty sure that's not physically possible, but I know it's a fantasy that exists. SS is just as unrealistic when it comes to things like (lack of) lube and refractory periods, but that's to be expected at this point.

I didn't talk about CB's minigames because they're frankly not that impressive, but SS's are both a bit more challenging and, in the case of the foreplay minigame, hotter and more interactive.

The writing is much improved, and flows more naturally. The voicework is overall of a higher quality as well, even with many in the cast reprising their roles. Particularly, the same voice actor plays the main characters of both games, but he sounds much more natural as the deeper-voiced lead here, in contrast to CB where he has to work to sound like a teen. The comic relief is about on par, so it's as entertaining as usual. There's even a yaoi fanboy in this one...who funnily enough never actually gets laid during the story, although the artists threw him a bone or six with a bukkake party crack scene in the extras.

SS's antagonist is both more compelling and more entertaining even though she never becomes a romance option - as should be evident from the pronoun alone. I predicted where the story was going to take her arc the first time I played, and while I was proven right the game didn't follow that thread to its logical conclusion. A bit disappointing, but I imagine that that would have obliterated the tone for the rest of the game and prevented it from ending with fluffy romance or celebratory sex.

There are enough small callbacks to CB that I'm glad I played the first game, but not so many that a newcomer would feel completely lost. As this is the only gay dating sim sequel that I can even think of, I appreciate the attention to continuity.

BLits is currently working on a third game called Jock Studio, unrelated to Camp Buddy but already looking to be an evolution of what they've learned from their first two games. The athletic university premise appears to be a self-indulgent excuse for porn - but I'm more than okay with that seeing how much the quality of their work has improved.

Favorite route: There's only two here, so naming one would be suggesting I dislike the other. In fact, both routes are really solid. I would say that Aiden's story hangs together a little better and feels stronger in its emotional moments (helped greatly by the best vocal performance in either of these games), whereas Goro's route appeals to me more based on raw sex appeal. He's a kinky daddy, what's not to love? Either way, SS is a ton of fun, and of the games in this post it's the one I recommend the most strongly.

Errant Kingdom

I'm of two minds about including this game. I really wanted to have one that would be drastically different from the others I've selected, but at time of writing I haven't done everything there is to do in Errant Kingdom. That's not for lack of time, as it's been released in chapter increments ever since last autumn or thereabouts and finally finished up in February. I've currently completed two of its stories so I feel like I have a solid grasp of what's on offer, but I realize that I haven't seen everything yet.

However, I had to keep pushing myself to play this one. It just doesn't have a very strong hook, in my opinion, but let's talk about the positives. If your main complaint about Dream Daddy is not the lack of hardcore gay sex but rather the inauthenticity of its representation then Errant Kingdom will be more your speed. Your character can be male, female, or nonbinary, and there are two love interests of each designation available. (That both nonbinary options are supernatural non-humans might arguably be a bit of a copout...but I'm not really in a position to judge.) There are also two options for poly relationships, as well as asexual dialogue options although the way the story is set up does still lend itself toward monogamous romance with occasional, vaguely-described (and never visualized) sex scenes. I'd also note that unlike every other visual novel with romantic elements I've ever played, dialogue options are explicitly marked as being romantic, asexual, or poly when applicable. This does make it much easier to get a specific outcome if you're looking for one, but in my view takes away some of the fun of these sorts of games.

Errant Kingdom's story is quite linear regardless of which if any romantic relationship(s) you choose to pursue, with the largest variance coming not from your choice of love interest but from your choice of one of three origins when you're creating your character: an ambassador, a knight, or a nomad. Having played through two of these, this decision greatly impacts the game's opening chapters but ultimately leads into the player characters being three different points of view on the same story, with all the same major set pieces. Errant Kingdom is occasionally clever about this, with the other two PCs popping up in each other's paths every now and then...unseen of course, because this is a game where the main character's physical presence is left entirely up to the imagination. On the other hand though, the different perspectives converging toward a single climax has the clunky side effect of dropping certain NPCs into the story lategame and acting as if you know who they are even if you've never met them in that playthrough.

The story itself isn't terribly fascinating, being a medieval fantasy conspiracy plot involving gods and magical weapons and an 11th hour Chosen One reveal (that isn't the player character, shockingly). If we're talking pseudo-medieval/early modern romantic visual novels, I find I prefer the Chess of Blades approach where each love interest gets his own storyline and so there's more overall variety and less tangled continuity. I've read in places that the later chapters suffered from deadline and creator burnout issues during development, which wouldn't surprise me with how much the pacing speeds up after a certain point.

Favorite route: For origins the ambassador angle suited me better and would probably be my pick overall. The choice of love interest is, as mentioned, actually not all that important, but disgraced former knight Erik hits most of my buttons. It's a shame his poly option is with a woman, because while Maja is my preference of the two female options I wouldn't be invested in her like that. This is the trouble for me with stepping outside the bounds of strictly M/M games.

#Dating Sims #Dear Monster #Camp Buddy #Scoutmaster Season #Errant Kingdom

[thatwritingho]

Please i am begging hands and knees post the "Yer home" wip POST THE WIP

SO glad you asked. This is easily one of my favorite things I've ever written. Have some Relish comfort with sides of a found family music metaphor, and Pickles reflecting on his relationship with music❤️

.

"There's a million other things you could be doing right now. Better things. Things you like."

Pickles levelled her with an unimpressed look, "I like bein' wit' yew."

"No, you don't," Olive scoffed, harshly wiping the tears from her face as she leaned back, "Not like this, at least. Not when I'm like this. I'm a fucking mess."

Softly running his fingertips over the backs of her hands, Pickles sighed. How could he put this in a way that she wouldn't brush off? An idea struck him, then, one that left him with an ache in his chest — not quite uncomfortable, but not quite pleasant either. But… it was a damn good comparison, if he did say so himself.

"Yanno… I've tried a lot'a instruments."

Brows furrowing, Olive sniffled, blinking at him in confusion, the expression on her face funny enough to make him crack a crooked smile.

"Wha-"

"Shh. Jest, lemme finish."

Licking his lips, Pickles laced their fingers together, continuing, "I tried a lot of em when I was younger. Piano, saxophone, fuckin' violin. Guitar was the easiest. I was a natural. It was easy, but it wasn't... right. It wasn't what I wanted. I didn't know what was missing, not fer a long time. I couldn't place it. And then…"

Pausing to inhale a breath, Pickles swallowed down a lump in his throat.

"...then I joined Snakes, and Sammy let me fuck around on his drum kit, and it just fuckin' clicked, yanno? Like, fuck, this is it, this is what I've been missin'. But I wasn't a natural at it, naht like wit' guitar. It didn't come easy. But, man, I put so much fuckin' time into it. Begged Sammy to teach me. I was on dat set every fuckin' day fer months. It finally felt right, yanno? Like I found myself, found what I was supposed ta be doin'. It felt like home. And then… then we broke up, and I was broke, and I couldn't play fer so fuckin' long. So fuckin' long-"

Old heartache cracked his voice at the memory, tears stinging against the backs of his eyes, and Pickles cleared his throat. Olive gave his hands a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

"And, like, I was homeless, fer a bit. But, shit, without bein' able ta play, it didn't fuckin' matter if I had a roof over my head 'er naht. Didn't matter if I was sleepin' on a park bench 'er someone's couch 'er in my own damn bed. I couldn't play, so I didn't have a home. But, finally, I joined up with Dethklok, and, gahd, dood, nothin' has ever felt so fuckin' right. We lived in a shithole of an apartment, everyone shared rooms, had to sleep on the couch more often than naht. But it didn't matter. The shitty landlord, the neighbors gettin' domestic every night, the bugs, naht having AC 'er heat 'er any money 'er food. None of it fuckin' mattered. Because I could play. I was finally home again."

Tears had slowly been gathering on his lashes as he spoke, a few finally spilling over, and Pickles shook his head, wiping them away with a strained laugh and a small fuck.

"Dillon…"

"I'm- I'm okee. Jest, let me finish. Prahmise I'm goin' somewhere."

With a shaky breath, he continued, "And then we blew up. All dat hard fuckin' work, all dat strugglin' and sufferin', all the shitty, sleepless nights, all those hours I poured inta that crappy, pieced together drum set. It all paid off. It was all worth it. And now, I get ta do it all the time. Now, I'm always home."

Pickles paused, rubbing his hands over her arms as he chose his next wording.

"I figure, people are kinda like instruments, yanno? Most of 'em suck. Most of 'em you'll never learn to play, because they're naht right fer ya. But sometimes, ya find the right instrument. Ya find it, and it might be hard, take a lot of effort, and there might be blood and sweat and tears that go inta learnin' it, inta gettin' it right, but it's worth it. It's worth it, because, at the end of the day, it's home."

Leaning back far enough to see her properly, he gently gripped her shoulders as his eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand his meaning.

"So... I finally got my own set. It's all I'd wanted for years. My own set. My own home. And it's been great, fuckin' great but… but I think… I think I could maybe use an expansion kit, yanno?"

Olive's eyes watered, hoping, praying he was saying what she thought he was.

"Somethin' new to add on, shake up my sound a bit. Like repainting the walls, 'er gettin' a better door after the old one gaht kicked in. Jest… somethin' that'll make it feel even more like home. Y'get what I'm sayin'?"

The tears in her eyes finally spilled over, and she smiled at him through a sob, nodding.

"Good. Good. So, uh, whadaya say? Wanna help me customize?"

Choking on a laugh, Olive leaned forward, closing the space between their lips, a series of watery, chaste kisses shared between them as his hands shifted to cup her jaw. Pickles broke the kiss only to meet her gaze once more, tips of their noses touching.

"So, yer naht a burden, ok? Yer naht a mess. Yer our girl. Yer home."

#this is so soft it hurrrrts #the comfort ahhh #the found family #ugh #theyre so important to me #relish #olive axworthy #pickles the drummer #metalocalypse oc #mtl oc