#so yeah this is my policy going forward

[sinsofsummers]

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind. 

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like. 

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead. 

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving. 

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean. 

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently. 

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him. 

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar. 

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then? 

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance. 

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.” 

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared. 

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth. 

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly. 

Now…now you needed him inside you. 

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?” 

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again. 

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la. 

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged. 

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue. 

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck. 

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled. 

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege. 

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him. 

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you. 

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again. 

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release. 

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

[bilolli]

Just Dance Care AU!

Ok ok so I thought of a story for this Au but it’s nothing really impactful or full of drama and angst like my other au’s, I wanted to leave this au easy and fun to play around, because, let’s say it. Just Dance and drama in the same sentence makes me laugh. 

story and PNG version under the cut!

(I gave up on Y/n design because I couldn't figure out a general look for them. This is you we are talking about! Draw your own JD fit, I'll draw mine soon XD)

Anyway here’s the story so far: 

Year 2029, videogames industry made a huge step forward and classic consoles and devices were substituted by the new and upgraded VR headsets with full body tracking. It’s something like the NerveGear in Sword Art Online without the kill switch. Some games still require you to actually move your body (like fitness games or sports because yeah, they don’t have a purpose otherwise). 

Y/n wanted to buy the newest VR headset but, while searching for the best offer, they found out FazCo entertainment was hosting a giveaway, the prize? One of their prototypes, a VR meant to be released the next year coinciding with the opening of their first mega pizza plex.

(so the plex doesn’t exist right now). You decide to sign up for the giveaway and after a while you receive an email telling you you won the VR headset and that, to claim it, you need to read and sign a series of NDA policies (understandable, it’s a prototype headset that’s not even in commerce). Some clauses are a little bit concerning but nothing you hadn’t read on other electronics booklets, so you decide to sign. After, like, a day, you have the VR in your hands. 

The box let you know with super saturated and colorful writing, that the VR came with a game pre-installed inside. Uh, that’s why they were giving one away, they wanted a free game tester…but you know what, it’s worth it.

You always liked Just Dance games, they make you think about happy memories of your childhood. This pre-installed game called “Five Dances at Freddy’s” is a close copy of your childhood game with original FazCo songs, characters, environments and also some collaborations with other famous artists. It probably will be the cause of a big copyright infringement report.

There are various ways to play it: story mode, Casual dance, Five Dances, and Just Dance Care.

The first one is similar to the casual dance mode but with little cutscenes between a dance and another to tell a tale, Casual dance is how you can play the collab songs, Five Dances is the multiplayer mode and Just Dance Care is a more uhhhh “hard” way to play the game with all the other modes mixed in it. You stare at the description of the last mode smirking and decide to try it first just to see how far you can get before losing (yes you can lose in hard mode in this Just Dance, but you don’t die, you just have to restart from the beginning). Turns out the FazCo wasn’t kidding when they advertised the new headset as a breakthrough in the world of virtual reality headsets, the thing TRANSPORTED you inside the game itself. 

You almost have a heart attack when you can’t find your VR on your head, but before you can try something you are blocked by two tall individuals who you think are the “tutorial” characters. 

Yadda yadda, tutorial, you can pause the game and exit whenever you need just by opening an hidden menu, you find out your tutorial characters are called Sun and Moon and that you are way worse than you remembered at dancing (damn full body tracking, there is no way you are going to do a cartwheel in the middle of a dance, you still don’t know if your body is inside your home and if you’ll physically feel pain if you fall and you don’t want to find out).

You pass an embarrassingly long time trying to win your first dance battle just to discover it was still the tutorial. 

You try to go on with the story but you fail at the first real battle with a bear character named Freddy. 

And guess what? You have to start again from the tutorial! Y/n is gonna spend A LOT of time with Sun and Moon if this goes on.

#JDCAU #Just Dance Care AU #bilolli's art

[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ sex worker!suguru geto x rich girl!reader ₊ ⊹ .

⊹ tags: nudity; post-sex; slightly angsty; au

:about: you grew up in a supremely wealthy household, but that came with a price. you've never had control over your own life, and now your father is set to marry you off. distraught by the news, you decide to call your contact for comfort.

:note: I don't know why but I've been thinking about this au a lot recently and I'm completely obsessed. I have so many aus for my faves and really wanted to spend some time exploring them more!

wc: 1,067

"an arranged marriage, huh?" suguru whispers, his sharp eyes dipping to your naked chest while his delicate fingers carefully push the bedsheet further down to your hips.

you inch a little closer into his frame, soaking in the outlines of his chiseled torso and bring one finger to trace little shapes on his broad shoulder. your brows furrow with annoyance, "yeah, you ever heard of the zenin family?"

suguru scoffs, breaking character for only a second. it's something that you've started noticing recently. that he doesn't hold his reactions around you as tightly as he used to. the front of this alter ego that he created has started to falter, but you find yourself drawn to the person existing underneath the mask of the seducer.

you sigh, "my father thinks naoya zenin is a perfect match for me."

an uneasy expression flickers across suguru's face, but he suppresses it before allowing it to linger.

you lift yourself up onto your elbow and rest your head on your palm. "what is it?"

suguru mimics your position, his large hand gliding back and forth over the slope of your hips and waistline. it sends goosebumps all over your body, your mind going back to the first time when you met him in person.

you still vividly remember his reaction. the way his eyes widened, and the quirk of his brow as he addressed you.

"you're young," he blurted.

"we're around the same age," you replied defensively, already feeling insecure for having hired him after you spent weeks watching his videos. you didn't even know about his house calls until you heard it from a source within your social circle. " is this how you greet all your clients?"

suguru boldly checks you out, "my other clients don't look like you..."

over time you learned that he catered to a specific demographic: older divorcees and cheating housewives.

the person you might turn into twenty years from now if this marriage goes through.

a knot forms in your stomach.

"I've heard that naoya..." suguru explains, pinching the pads of his fingers lightly against your flesh before leaning forward to kiss the crease between your brows. "can be a handful to deal with..."

you thread your fingers around his neck, your lips finding his jaw where you return a kiss. "and who told you that?" you murmur, as the weight of suguru's body rolls on top of yours.

a wicked smile ticks at the corners of his lips, and you're staring at his devastatingly handsome face from below. the longer you spent time with him the more you began to wonder about his circumstances.

the same thought constantly crosses your mind time and time again.

suguru could truly be anything he wanted but instead he was here making a killing off of fucking lonely women and making porn videos.

you aren't here to judge his choices, but you can't help but feel puzzled by the situation.

his smile gives you the answer. his source regarding naoya zenin thanks to a client, but suguru has a confidentiality policy and shares nothing about the other women he beds.

you shiver when his mouth meets your neck, his lips sucking along the tender skin that sends goosebumps all over your chest but there's an ache in your heart when you consider that if it wasn't for the signed cheque in your purse, he wouldn't even be here in the first place.

not a single man you've met in the world compares to suguru. not only was he beautiful beyond comprehension, but he had striking charm and was extremely smart. you found yourself enjoying his company beyond physical purposes, and conversations with him turned out to be one of your favorite ways to pass time.

"think we'll still get together when you're a missus?" he teases, his lips trailing lower to your collar bones and hovering just a above your breasts covered with the hickeys that he's left.

the thought of getting married makes you sick.

"do you peg me as a terrible wife? a woman who would happily cheat on her husband?" you question, your voice small and trembling when suguru circles his lips around your hard nipple.

he hums, drawing out a whimper when he nips at the bud lightly.

"no," he answers, his voice dropping an octave and your mind swirls when you contemplate if that strange tone is actually jealousy. he rests his chin on your chest, his inky hair framing his face in a waterfall of obsidian. "I do, however, peg naoya as a terrible husband"

you sink your fingers into his locks. "it doesn't matter who my father chooses, they are all the same. naoya is no worse than the rest. I'm trapped regardless..."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," suguru responds sincerely, the sweetness in his voice the reason why your eyes prick with tears.

you sniffle, using your free hand to wipe away a rogue droplet freely falls down your cheek. suguru softens his expression, adjusting his position so he was laying by your side. he doesn't say anything but draws you into his chest for a hug, enveloping you in his warmth. you try hard not to consider the reality of the situation, and accept the gesture freely as you cuddle against him.

the moment of peace is interrupted by a loud vibration. you and suguru both perk up to stare at his phone buzzing on the side table.

your heart sinks.

another client.

suguru reaches his arm around to grab the phone, and you close your eyes as you inhale his natural scent, trying to soak him in for as long as you can. but to your surprise he simply switches it off, and wraps his arm back around you to return to his position.

"you sure you don't need to take that?" you mumble, trying to play off your disappointment as casually as possible.

"I'm booked out for the rest of the evening," he answers nonchalantly, "there's no reason to respond."

a flutter in your belly sends a tingle all over your skin. "but...your cheque only covers the hours we agreed on..."

two fingers touch the underside of your chin, and suguru tilts your head up so you were both face to face again. "don't worry about it, doll," he consoles, his thumb lightly outlining your bottom lip, "this is on the house."

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x female reader #geto x ofc #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #suguru geto angst #suguru geto fluff #hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfics

[wildemaven]

he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today. 

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work. 

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now. 

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked. 

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with. 

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.” 

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?” 

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him. 

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over. 

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background. 

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers. 

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations. 

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home. 

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home. 

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. 

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him. 

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you. 

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes. 

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him. 

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.” 

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him. 

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you. 

“I guess you have a point.” 

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat. 

*

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine. 

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time. 

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window. 

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening. 

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move. 

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam. 

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction. 

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.” 

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets roped into helping Bob coach tee ball, even though he knows nothing about kids. But he is immediately charmed by his team and one of the moms.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I could really use your help," Bob told Bradley over some drinks at the Hard Deck. "Jake wouldn't take it seriously enough, and Phoenix already volunteers at the animal shelter. Will you do it?"

Bradley tipped his pint glass against his lips and took a long drink. "Ten weeks is a long time," he told his friend. 

Bob drummed his fingers against the bartop. "I need a contingency plan in case I get deployed. That's the only way the league will let me coach a team."

Bradley leaned forward on his elbow. "Bob, I don't really even know anything about tee ball. Or kids for that matter."

"You played baseball in college!" Bob reminded him with a hopeful smile. "And you were really good, right? Starting shortstop all four years?"

"You're just trying to use that against me, aren't you?" Bradley asked with a chuckle. 

"Of course I am! My sister is begging me to do this, and I want to! My niece is struggling in school, but she loves sports. I think she would do better with a coach she's familiar with," Bob gushed. "Come on."

But he was still shaking his head. "It's not that I don't want to, Bob. It's just that, I don't know anything about kids!"

"Kids are simple. You treat them like their opinions matter, and they'll love you forever. At least that's how it works with Piper, my niece."

Bradley heaved a deep sigh. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. He was single, work ended at 4:30 when he wasn't deployed, and he really did love baseball. It might be fun to teach a bunch of kids how to play. Hell, what did he have to lose?

"Yeah, okay."

Bob's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Really? You'll be the co-coach of the Tiny Eagles with me?"

With a shrug and a smile, Bradley nodded his head. "Yeah, Bob. I'll be your co-coach."

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

"What do you mean you're not allowed peanut butter in the lunchroom?" you asked your son as you were making his school lunch. "You took a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on Friday!"

"That was last week, mommy. The rules have changed, and it's important to be flexible."

You really despised it when your six year old used your own words against you.

"Everett, I don't have time for this. You'll need to buy lunch today, okay? Be flexible?" you said, glancing down at your half-dressed body. You needed to be on time for work today, therefore the elementary school cafeteria food would just have to do.

Everett scrunched up his nose but said, "Okay, mommy."

"Perfect," you said, shoving the jar of peanut butter to the side and pouring two bowls of cereal. "Eat your cheerios so I can get you to school."

You inhaled your own breakfast and then dashed back up to your room to finish getting ready. Your suit with the tight pants was the only one that was clean, so you squeezed yourself into them and found a clean bra. Frank would be in the office today, and you'd gotten used to him meeting up with you around lunchtime to make out a little bit, even though it was strictly against company policy. He'd like the tight pants, you supposed. 

Once you added some mascara and lip gloss to your face, you found your black heels and started back down the stairs. "Shit," you muttered, turning around again. Today was Everett's first day of tee ball practice, so you grabbed a pair of old sneakers to change into later. 

You felt like a scattered mess all the time, especially since Danny, your ex-husband was almost no help with Everett. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to punch the wall, so you took a calming breath and put a smile back on your face before you entered the kitchen. 

"Let's get going, sweetie. You've got tee ball after school today, so I'm packing some extra snacks."

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "I've been waiting all month for baseball to start!"

You smiled and ushered him out to your car. "Remember, it's not quite baseball, so don't get ahead of yourself, Ev. But tee ball is a good place to start."

"Yeah, I know. But it's still going to be fun."

Once you dropped him off at school, you raced to your office and tried to sneak to your desk without anyone bothering you. Thankfully you made it all the way there before Frank let himself in. 

Yeah, you and he were hooking up. Yeah, you had slept over his house last weekend while Everett was with your sister. But you still didn't want him to just waltz into your office whenever he felt like it.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, walking toward your desk. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Frank," you told him, trying to compile your spreadsheets while he kissed your cheek. "Just very busy. And Everett has practice this evening."

"When are you free to go out again?" he asked, stroking his fingers down your neck. God, it felt good to be touched like this, but Frank really wasn't your type, and he was mediocre at everything. He was mediocre at work, usually doing the bare minimum. He was a mediocre kisser. He had mediocre looks. He was probably below average in bed. 

But you were a single mom who barely had time to eat, only washed her hair three times a week, and usually fell asleep about thirty minutes after Everett did every night. 

"I'm not sure, Frank. I'll have to let you know." Bottom line, you'd probably schedule another date for next week when you'd be too horny again to mind that you weren't that into him. Not the best way to live your life, but what else were you supposed to do?

"You just call me, and I'll take you out anywhere you want."

What you wanted was to be able to introduce Everett to the guy you were spending time with, but Frank hated kids. 

"I'll let you know. I'm just busy at the moment, so..." You let your sentence hang until he nodded and took the hint. When your door closed behind him, you got back to work. Of course you were in the middle of a phone call and existing solely on caffeine when your alarm went off to let you know you needed to go pick Everett up.

"Sounds great. I'll talk to my clients and get back to you soon," you said, ending your work call and sweeping your work into your bag. 

"Shit." You'd accidentally skipped your lunch again. You ate your sandwich while you were in the car pickup line at Everett's school and then touched up your mascara and lip gloss. 

"Ready, sweetie? First day of practice!"

He climbed into the car and buckled himself into his seat. "Ready!"

You just smiled as he tugged his Phillies hat lower over his forehead. You'd been taking him to Padres games as often as you could, ever since he'd become obsessed with baseball. Each time the Padres played a new team, you let Everett pick out a shirt or hat to remember the game by. For some reason that Phillies cap was his favorite. 

"I hope my team colors are red and white, so they match my hat," he said, munching on a snack while you pulled into the ballpark lot. 

"That would be fun. Just remember, we don't complain about things like the color of your uniform," you mumbled, snagging an empty spot next to a vintage Ford Bronco. You gave it a quick once over before you got Everett and his equipment out of the car and started to head toward the field, changing your shoes as you went. 

"Are those my coaches?" Everett asked as you lugged his bat and carried your heels in one hand. "What were their names again?"

"Um, Coach Bob and Coach Bradley? I think? We'll find out in a minute," you said, but when you looked up, you saw two extremely handsome men walking toward you. They were wearing matching blue jerseys, caps and whistles, and your tummy dipped at the way the one with darker hair carried himself when he walked. He was almost strutting across the infield, and his baseball cap was on backwards. 

You bit back an embarrassing sound before it could escape you, and you had to force your mouth to shut.

"Come on, mommy!" 

Your attention snapped back to your son who was now headed for the bleachers. He was already changing into his cleats amongst all the other kids by the time you caught up to him. 

When you glanced up toward the coaches again, the one with the backward hat was already looking at you. His head was cocked a little to one side, and he had a cute, crooked smile playing at the corner of his mouth. And you immediately wanted to disappear. 

How embarrassing, being caught out like that. The blond coach with glasses blew his whistle, and the kids went into a frenzy. You quickly shoved Everett's sneakers into his bag and got your phone out. You took a seat near the other parents while Everett and the other kids all trotted out to the field.

But you could clearly hear the two women behind you whispering. "These coaches are eye candy, Tara! This season is going to be fantastic!" 

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

"Here's the full schedule. And you don't have to worry about the theme days, because I already took care of all of them," Bob said, clearly trying to sound reassuring as he handed Bradley packet after packet of paperwork.

"Theme days?" Bradley asked, skimming the calendar. 

"Yeah, like there's a day where the kids can wear costumes for practice. Another day where they can dress in their favorite sports shirt. A swim party. Fun stuff to keep them engaged. I already added them to the calendar," Bob said. Bradley just nodded as they made their way back across the field. 

But when he looked up toward the bleachers, his eyes caught on something so pretty, he couldn't look away. You were carrying some seriously tall high heels in one hand and a tee ball bat in the other as you made your way toward the huge group of kids. 

Bradley should be embarrassed. He really should. He had assured Nat that there was no way he was going to start jonesing for any of the moms. They weren't his type. He never sought them out, and he never ever dated them. 

But there was no denying that you were exactly the type of woman he'd try to chat up. You were pretty; god, you were gorgeous. Your suit pants were distractingly tight, and he thought your sneakers looked cute paired with them. He was grinning when you made eye contact with him, and his smile just grew. 

He watched you scramble and pull your phone out of your pocket just as Bob blew his whistle, calling the kids onto the field. 

"Welcome, Tiny Eagles! I'm Coach Bob, and this is Coach Bradley! Who's excited to be here for tee ball?"

Bradley couldn't help but smile as all of the kids jumped up and down and cheered. Lots of them had cute grins with missing teeth, and Bob's niece Piper was hugging Bob's leg. 

"When I point at you, tell us your name, okay?" Bob went through the group of twenty kids, and Bradley would be lucky to remember even three of their names after this first practice.

"Let's get started with some warm-ups!" Bob instructed. "Who knows how to do jumping jacks?"

All of the kids started jumping at the same time while Bradley and Bob tried to get them to count to ten. Their excitement had Bradley smiling and laughing, and at Bob's instruction, he led all the kids in a jog around the bases. When he rounded second base and then third, Bradley had the perfect view of you sitting at the bottom of the bleachers. 

You were tucking your hair behind your ear, and he met your eyes again. This time you smiled back before your eyes dipped to the turf in front of you. Then you glanced up again and waved your fingers to whichever kid was yours. Bradley could imagine you waving to him that way. He could imagine you doing a lot of things he might like. 

He sighed and joined Bob as he started to get the kids lined up for practice catching. Bradley adjusted gloves on a few kids' hands, and then he knelt down in front of an adorable little boy who had untied laces.

"Hey kiddo, what's your name again?"

"Everett!" 

"Right. Everett. Can I re-tie your laces for you? Make them nice and tight? Don't want any injuries so early in the season."

When the boy nodded, Bradley started to tie up the cleats for him.

"I like your Phillies cap. That's my favorite team," Bradley said with a smile.

He watched the kid's eyes grow wide. "Really? It's my favorite team, too! My mom took me to see them play the Padres last year, and they won!"

"Oh yeah? Your mom sounds cool."

He nodded vigorously. "My mom is so fun. She doesn't really know stuff about baseball, but she took me to a bunch of games to see different teams last summer."

Bradley was grinning as he was about to stand. "Which one's your mom?"

Everett turned to look over his shoulder, and Bradley followed his extended finger to where you were sitting. "Over there. In the suit."

Bradley watched you uncross and recross your legs and play with your hair before you glanced up from your phone and found him and Everett both looking at you. A hesitant smile found your lips and you waved again. This time Everett and Bradley both waved back. 

"Holy cow, kid. Your dad's lucky."

Everett just gave Bradley a confused look. "Oh, no. He's not fun like her. He doesn't take me anywhere."

"Ready?" Bob called to where Bradley and Everett were chatting. With one final look at you, Bradley stood and led Everett by the hand to where the kids were all lined up along the first base line. 

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

So that was Coach Bradley. You didn't seem capable of keeping your eyes off him. Your phone kept buzzing with work emails that you kept ignoring. Any time Everett wasn't engaged in the practice, your gaze drifted to Coach Bradley, his backward hat, and his snug shorts. 

The other moms and nannies were all abuzz over the cute coaches, and you were silently agreeing with everything they said.

"They both must be at least six foot two."

"I wonder if they are single. I don't see any rings. God, I hope they are single."

"I'd let Coach Bradley bring his whistle to bed."

When practice ended, you were flushed and warm as you started to gather up Everett's bag. He came running over to you with his arms outstretched for a hug. 

"Guess what! Coach Bradley likes the Phillies!"

You laughed as you caught him for a hug. "Does he really?" you asked, glancing to see that all of the moms had swarmed around both of the coaches. 

"Yeah! It's his favorite team!" 

"Did you have fun then? Tee ball is a success, and you want to come back on Thursday?"

"Yes!"

"Love to hear that. Let's get packed up and head home for dinner."

But Coach Bradley was looking at you again as you tossed Everett's mitt and cleats into his bag. And when you began to turn to head back to your car, he came jogging over to you.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "I didn't get to introduce myself before. I'm Bradley."

He held out his big hand to you, but you felt like you were moving in slow motion now. His voice was so deep and raspy, and his hand was big and calloused. He was so tall, standing right in front of you and smelling like sweat and spicy deodorant. And you didn't even want to get started on his brown eyes and his mustache. You were turned on enough that you feared you might squeak instead of actually speaking, but you did manage to open your mouth and tell him your name as you slipped your hand into his. 

"It's nice to meet you," he replied, and your tummy dipped again. "Everett told me you took him to see the Phillies play."

"I did. Last summer. He's baseball obsessed." You were still gently shaking his hand, but he wasn't letting go yet.

"He's a fun kid. Happy he's on my team."

"He likes you already," you said with a smile, and as your hand left his, you missed his warmth right away.

Suddenly Everett popped up next to you. "I'm hungry."

You kissed his forehead and said, "I have snacks for you in the car. And I'll make dinner as soon as we get home. Can you thank your coaches?"

Everett smiled and gave Bradley a high five when he held his hand up. "Thanks Coach Bradley," he said before running off toward Coach Bob. 

You went to grab the equipment bag off of the bench, but Bradley reached for it too. "If you're heading out, I could walk up with you." You nodded and let him take the bag as Everett ran back over. 

As you scooped up your heels and led the way to your car, you listened to your son ask his coach a string of questions.

"Are we going to do batting on Thursday? What if it rains? Do we get a rain delay? Have you ever won coach of the year? How long have you been a Phillies fan?"

You were just about to tell Everett to chill, but Bradley started to answer all of the questions in stride. 

"We are definitely going to have batting practice on Thursday. I'm pretty sure we will just cancel practice if it rains. You don't want your mom to have to sit on a bench in the rain while you have all the fun and get muddy, do you?"

Everett just laughed and shook his head. 

Bradley continued. "This is my first time coaching, so no awards yet. And I've been a Phillies fan since I was about your age." 

"How old are you now?" Everett asked.

"That's not nice to ask adults, Ev," you said, tossing Bradley an apologetic look.

"What? I just want to know if he's the same age as you," Everett replied. Then he turned to Bradley and said, "My mom is thirty three."

"Everett!"

But Bradley was just laughing. "How about a math problem. What's thirty three plus three?" he asked, but he was still smiling at you as he adjusted his baseball cap.

"Thirty six!" Everett said as you all reached your car.

"That's how old I am," Bradley informed him with a smirk. "And you're very good at math."

"Mom! He's your age!"

"That's enough, Ev," you said, ushering him into the back seat. You took the bag from Bradley and tossed in on the backseat as well.

You turned to Bradley and tucked your hair behind your ear. "Thanks for walking us up. And sorry about the interrogation."

"I don't mind," he said, leaning in closer to you so he could see Everett, and making your breath hitch in the process. "See you on Thursday, kiddo?" he asked Everett, and his neck was right next to your face. He smelled so good.

"See you on Thursday, Coach!"

Bradley opened the driver's door for you, and as you thanked him and slid past, you realized you were more attracted to him after less than an hour in his presence than you were to Frank. 

"See you on Thursday," he said before gently closing your door. 

As you backed out of your parking spot, you watched him toss some of his gear and his hat into the vintage Bronco. He ran his hand through his hair and waved to Everett who was waving out the window. 

"Coach Bradley is so cool."

"I'm glad you liked him," you replied, and you watched him in your side view mirror as he started unbuttoning his jersey. You swallowed hard. "I liked him, too." 

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

He's here! He's really here! And I am excited! I hope you liked this first part! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and thanks to@mak-32 for the gorgeous banner for this fic!

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader

[amazinglyspicy]

PIRATE SAFELY!! But pirate ;)

Hello! I’ve gotten a flood of new followers thanks to an addition I made about NOT torrenting from the Pirate Bay, so I want to address it better.

If you’ve come to check my blog for more piracy resources, advice, guides, etc, then check out some of the links in this pinned!

First and Foremost, Do not do Anything without an adblocker. Ublock Origin is the best.

Resources/Wikis: 🌟Top recommendation is the Free Media Heck Yeah Wiki, frequently updated, maintained, and transparent, as well as has a welcoming community behind it if you have questions. The rest are for redundancy's sake and for anything not found in FMHY, though most Wikis on this topic tend to repeat the same info. 🌟

VPN Comparison Chart - General Rule of Thumb, DO NOT use any VPN recommended by Youtubers, influencers, or any other shill with a profit motive. Large marketing budget does not equal good privacy practices. Do your own research.

-Since both Mullvad VPN and IVPN are planned to now suspend port forwarding support, the next best choices for torrenting though a VPN seem to be AirVPN and ProtonVPN.

HOWEVER, AirVPN has no evidence of a no logging policy (aka there’s a chance they keep records of what you do on their service) and ProtonVPN has no method of anonymously signing up and use a subscription model instead of a preferable pay-as-you-go model. So take that as you will.

(NOTE: You do not need to pay for a VPN if you are only directly downloading from a server or streaming off of websites! But it’s probably a good idea for privacy reasons anyways.)

A very good Comprehensive Torrenting Guide! -eye strain warning

And another one!

-If you torrent you need a VPN depending on how strict your government is on copyright laws. This works on a case by case basis, so I recommend looking up your own country's laws on the matter. Generally speaking, use a VPN to torrent if your country falls under The 14 Eyes Surveillance Alliance. More info on what that is Here.

A Note about Antivirus: - If you're using trusted websites, and not clicking on any ad links/fake download ads (Should be blocked by ublock), then you don't necessarily need any antivirus. Common Sense and Windows Defender should be enough to get you by. If you would like to be certain on what you are downloading is legitimate, then run your file through a virus scanner like VirusTotal. Keep in mind that when scanning cracked software some scans may flag “false positives” as the injectors used to crack the software look like malware to these scanners. Once again, the best way to avoid malware is to use trusted sites listed here and use an adblocker at all times.

If you have any questions on anything posted, need help finding things, or just need some clarification on any terms used, shoot me an ask or message! I've got a few years experience with not paying for anything I want, and LOVE to help others with this kind of stuff. But if you don't trust me, since I am a random stranger on the internet, that's fine (I wont be offended promise)! Do your own research!

INFORMATION SHOULD BE FREE!

Last updated: February 16th 2024

#piracy #torrenting #vpn #pirating #media preservation #warez

[vampiregirlthingcock]

post-workout Fiammetta; part of an art trade/collab with @wolfgirlsmooches, where they supplied a short piece to go with it!

follow her, they and her stuff rules

their piece under the cut:

Rhodes Island has a written policy that the gym showers are single occupancy. Everyone knows this. Seemingly no one cares… Especially not Exusiai, who stepped in to join her lover, Fiammetta. "Hey, Fia. Saw you lifting some… impressively large weights." Fiammetta nodded, making room for her girlfriend to join her under the water. "Rest day's tomorrow." "Ah, gotcha…" Exusiai took a moment to admire Fiammetta's body, partially obscured by steam and soap. After gawking for a bit, she stepped under the water and kissed her lips. Fiammetta kissed her back, then handed her the soap. Exusiai lathered it over her chest and arms, trying to catch up with Fiammetta. "No need to rush, El. I still haven't washed my lower half." Fiammetta smirked at Exusiai. "Want to help with that?" Exusiai knows that smirk all too well. "How'd you know that's what I wanted? Did'cha catch me staring earlier?" "Well that, and…" She gestured down toward Exusiai's cock. "You're hard." "Hey! So are you…" Exusiai's voice trailed off. The sight of Fiammetta's body was far too distracting for her. "So I am." She paused for a few moments to let Exusiai take in the sight. "So, are you wanting to help?" Exusiai snapped out of her trance. "Yes, of course…" Fiammetta took Exusiai's soapy hand and guided it to her shaft. "There. Go ahead." Exusiai's cheeks reddened as she started stroking. "How's this?" She closed her eyes and tilted her head upward. "Good, good…" "Yeah?" Exusiai kissed her newly exposed neck, then quickened her pace. "You're so cute when you get like this…" Fiammetta whimpered. "What do you mean…" "All subby and soft, silly." Exusiai stopped stroking. "You're a good girl!" Fiammetta covered her face and groaned. "Do you have to rub it in?" Exusiai laughed, then let go of her lover's cock. She then turned and placed her hands on the shower wall, stuck her bottom backwards, and looked over her shoulder. "Since you've been a good girl for me…" Fiammetta bit her lip. "Can I?" "Go on, please~" Fiammetta eagerly stepped forward and buried herself inside of Exusiai. Exusiai wiggled her hips, intentionally tightening around her. "How's it feel?" Fiammetta grunted, placing her hands on Exusiai's hips. "May I start thrusting?" "Ah ah ah, manners~" Exusiai looked over her shoulder with a playful smile. Fiammetta sighed. "May I please thrust?" "And what do you call me?" She turned her head and looked away out of embarassment. "Ma'am. May I please thrust, ma'am?" "Hmmm… Then what?" Fiammetta turned back to face her lover, confused and slightly annoyed. "Then what?" "Are you gonna thrust just one time, or are you gonna fill me?" Exusiai pushed back against Fiammetta, making sure she stays completely hard. "…Fill you." "Then, would you like to rephrase your request?" Fiammetta looked away once again and mumbled her new request. "Please, ma'am, may I thrust until I finish inside of you?" "Yes, you may~" Exusiai giggled. "Don't act like you don't enjoy this. I can feel you twitching~"

#arknights #fiaexu #exusiai #fiammetta #exusiai arknights #fiammetta arknights #my art #not my writing #friend's writing #art trade #collab #nsft

[evieskiesss]

Can u plz write a dom bill smut? theres a lack of bill smut lately and its so devastating + i LOVE ur writing 😭❤️

QUIT YOUR JOB- BILL KAULITZ.

𝙎𝙊𝙁𝙏 𝘿𝙊𝙈 𝘽𝙄𝙇𝙇:)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙫, 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙢!𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙡, 𝙨𝙪𝙗!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙩𝙤𝙮𝙨, 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚, 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙚, 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 (𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖?):)

a/n: hiiii and YESSS OFCCCC. I DEFINITELY NOTICED THE LACK OF BILL SMUT SO INHAD TO FIX THAT RQ😘. AND OMG I LOVE ALLL THE REQUESTS IVE RECEIVED, i’m sooo glad that you guys are actually sending them in🥹. please give me some time as i’m super busy but i will definitely try to do everyone’s requests as soon as i can!!

-

    It was a tough day at work. A day full of bulky paperwork, long calls full of appointments and nasty complaints, as well as some harsh scolding's from your boss.

     Bill came out from the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. "you're home," he grinned, walking toward you to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. You kissed back softly, not having the energy to reciprocate as much passion.

      He pulled away , his eyebrows furrowed at your state. Your face was flat, eyes hollow with turned down lips. Your shoulders were slouched while your hands sluggishly undid the buttons on your white blouse.

    "bad day at work?" he asked, a hint of sadness in his tone. You nodded slowly, your expression not changing as you continued to undo the buttons. "yeah," you replied flatly, the weight of everything now suddenly becoming heavier.

    He frowned a little, pulling your arm to let you sit on a kitchen stool in front of the island. "tell me, what's wrong?" he asked, leaning forward as he was eager to hear what might've turned your day so sour.

    You sighed, rolling your eyes a little as you remembered everything. "so much fucking paperwork, did about 150 pages. i had to take so many calls today, so many of them were just pure bullshit. this one lady called complaining about our policy and began insulting me as if i was the one who fucking created it. my dumbass boss basically yelled at me in front of everyone because of an appointment I scheduled when he specifically told me to do it for that day! apparently he didn't want it anymore and just assumed I was a fucking psychic that reads minds- and i can't get this fucking button off!"

    Your tone becoming more frustrated and aggressive as you spoke, nearly shouting as you almost ripped the shirt apart. Bill shot up from his seat next to you, quickly pulling your arms apart from the blouse. "okay, okay- just relax," he said softly in a soothing tone.

    You let out a frustrated breath, your hand coming up to rub your face. Bill's fingers gently began undoing the buttons, careful enough to not tug on the fragile thread.

     It was silent until he was about half-way, "i think you should quit." You chuckled, almost scoffing, "i wish." You kept your hand over your eyes, trying to ease the now throbbing headache.

    Bill shrugged even though you couldn't see him. "i'm serious. i think you should quit," he replied, now a bit more serious. "and do what? become a stripper?" you joked. He laughed, the smile coming up on his face. 

    Even if when extremely tired and annoyed,

you kept your humor. "i cant quit, Bill. how else will i-"

    "me. i'll give you everything you need. you don't have to work, y'know," he said with a smile, undoing the last button. You chuckled at his silly idea, "i cant do that," you shook your head, now taking the blouse off.

    Bill gently pushed the fabric back, helping you slip the blouse off before setting it on the island, now leaving you in your bra and pants. "why not?"

   You chuckled again, a small smile coming from his selflessness. His hands came to rest on your hips as he stood in front of you, admiring you entirely.

     "Bill, i'm not going to let you do that," you tried, your hands now running up his arms.

    He cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "well, why not? i mean," he kissed you softly, "-we already live together," he kissed you again as he spoke against your lips.

    "and," kiss, "i don't work by making all this music for nothing," he tried to reason with you. He caught your lips in another kiss, his lips pressing against yours with love.

    You let out a small sigh through your nose, pulling away as you looked at him with an uneasy smile. "i don't know, Bill.. i don't want you to feel like i'm just with you for money or something-"

    "nonsense!" he cut you off. He gave you a slightly pleading look, "you've been with me for years now, even before all of the money & fame. i would never think that," he reassured you.

    You looked up at him, your face still uneasy. He pursed his lips slightly before sighing, "just think about it, baby!" His face came closer to you again, noses brushing.

    "no paperwork, no calls, no mean bosses," he started, kissing you softly. "no waking up early, no dumb complaints, no stupidly tight blousesss," his voice trailed off jokingly as you laughed lightly.

   He smiled, catching your lips in another kiss. "waking up late, going out whenever you want, you can lay in bed all day, go get your nails done, your hair, anything you want," his voice became a quieter the more he listed things.

    "i'll give you anything you want," he whispered, kissing you again. The kiss was slightly harder, slower. His grip on your thighs becoming tighter. You moaned softly into the kiss, Bill's tone of speaking now getting to you.

      You hummed, pulling away just enough for you to speak. "I need to think about it, billy," you whispered back, your fingers gently playing with his hair.

    He looked down at you, nodding softly as he took his lower lip between his teeth. "maybe you just need some more convincing," he suggested, his voice becoming lower.

     His hand moved your hair to one side, exposing your skin to him fully. "what d-do you mean?" you breathed out, feeling Bill's lips give open mouthed kisses to your neck.

      "you're going to quit," he mumbled, "let me convince you." You didn't have time to respond before his teeth gave your neck a quick nip, you winced at the sudden pain which somehow bled into pleasure.

     "you're okay," he whispered, continuing to kiss down your neck. His hands went up to your sides, rubbing them. You let out a soft moan as he sucked on your sweet spot, now leaving a dark hickey.

      "c'mon," he whispered before grabbing your legs, suddenly carrying you into your shared bedroom. You kissed his neck as he walked you there, his scent invading your nose in a calming manner.

        He closed the door the behind him, gently placing you down on the mattress with him on top of you. You let out a small moan, his hands now undoing your pants.

        He slipped them off with the help of your legs, discarding them somewhere before slamming his lips against yours again. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slightly to indicate you wanted it off.

     He followed with a chuckle, tossing his shirt off before leaning back down. His hands gripped your sides, pushing you more up on the bed so that your head lay comfortably against the pillows.

      You both breathed heavily, his lips finding yours again as he kissed you slower, but with passion. His hand slipped behind you, undoing your bra before discarding it. He quickly fondled your breast, his lips ghosting over your ear, "i'm gonna make you feel good, okay?"

     He caught your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it as he felt it harden. You let out soft moans, your hands tangling themselves in his air as you arched your back.

     He chuckled, now moving to the other nipple. His tongue swirled around it, gently taking it between his teeth to tug on. You let out a light hiss at the sting, before being soothed by his warm tongue running over it.

     You let out a small whine, your hands reaching the buttons on his pants to undo before he stopped you. "let me take care of you. i know you've had a hard day," he whispered, kissing your breast.

      You bit your lower lip gently, nodding as his fingers looped around your panties, dragging them down your legs and away to the ground. He spread your legs open, holding them apart by your thighs.

He let out a low groan as your area glistened, his thumb coming up to meet his tongue for saliva. His thumb pressed itself against your clit, causing you to jolt as he rubbed slow circles against it.

     You let out a low moan, loving the slow pleasure he gave you. His fingers came down between your folds, collecting some of your wetness before pushing in two fingers.

A silent groan came from your throat as he slowly stretched you out, his fingers pushing themselves in until they hit the knuckle. The tip of his fingers gently ghosting over your spongey spot.

He slowly pumped his fingers in & out, pushing up against your g-spot as he curled his fingers. You moaned as his thumb continued to rub your clit, his lips coming down to swallow your moans.

You let out small breaths as you felt his fingers go deeper, now curling harder. He kissed you again, making it hard for you to kiss back as you felt the knot in your abdomen grow tight.

“feels nice, doesn’t it?” he asked against your lips, his fingers perfectly hitting your g-spot. You whined, feeling your orgasm grow closer. He bit your lip rather harshly, causing you to hiss.

“i asked you a question,” he mumbled huskily, his fingers going faster & rubbing your clit harsher. “yes, yes!” you closed your eyes tightly, feeling your orgasm approach.

You let out a dragged out groan as your orgasm hit, cumming on his fingers as he slowed his pace. “good, so good,” he whispered as he pulled his fingers out.

He licked his fingers up, enjoying the taste of you. He came down to kiss you again, his lips tasting of you as his hands sweetly rubbed your thighs again. “think you can do another?” he asked.

You nodded, half-lidded. He smiled, pecking your nose as he turned over to grab some toys. When you fully opened your eyes, you were taken aback by the items.

A vibrator set next to your thigh, as well as a dildo. You were familiar with the vibrator, but not with the dildo. You looked up at him, slightly uneasy.

He chuckled at your expression, his fingers gently caressing your abdomen. “you trust me, right?” he asked. You nodded again, of course you did. He smiled, “then trust me. i’ll be gentle,” he whispered.

You felt a slight burn arise in your area again, you were nervous but excited. You two hadn’t experimented quite fully with toys, so it would be a different experience.

He situated himself on his knees, between your legs. Your legs were spread open for him, your cunt still wet from your previous orgasm. He grabbed the vibrator, turning it to a low setting before pressing it firmly on your clit.

Your hips jolted at the sudden sensation, his hand quickly coming to hold your hip down. “ah,” you breathed out as it vibrated against your bundle of nerves.

He slowly rubbed it up & down, your hips bucking up as the feeling bled into intense pleasure. You closed your eyes, loving it. Suddenly, you felt a cold object at your entrance.

You looked down to see the dildo, lathered in a thin layer of lube. Bill looked up at you with a warm smile, “relax,” he whispered. Your jaw hung low as he began to push it in you, your walls stretching as you felt yourself adjust to the foreign toy.

It wasn’t that big, obviously not as big as Bill’s cock, but the dildo was decorated with various thick faux veins. A whine left your lips as he pushed the rest in, letting you adjust before he began pumping it.

He maintained a slow pace, only pushing it out slightly before pumping it further in you. The short thrusts mixed perfectly with the vibrations.

Bills finger discreetly pushed on the button, leaving it at a higher setting. You whined again, Bill’s wrist now thrusting the dildo in a bit harsher.

He occasionally rotated the dildo in you, making you squirm as you felt your second orgasm approaching. You bucked your hips up, meeting the thrusts of the dildo as you felt your thighs slightly begin to shake.

“do you like that?” he asked, looking up at you through his lashes with a playful grin. You only managed to hum back before your orgasm came crashing down, your hips shuddering.

“good fucking girl, you listen so well,” he cooed.

You arched your back, feeling him now tone down his movements in an attempt to drag out your orgasm. You panted heavily as you recovered, wincing slightly as he gently pulled the dildo out.

The toy was covered in your juices, a smirk on his face as it glistened. “so fucking hot,” he mumbled, now setting the toys aside. You tried to regain your breath as you laid there, your body covered in sweat.

You were deep in your mind, not realizing the sounds coming from in front of you as Bill undressed himself. He took his pants off, along with his boxers as he kissed up your chest to your lips.

“one more for me, okay?” he whispered, pure lust flowing from his voice. Your eyes snapped open, one more? He chuckled , “c’mon, baby. you’ve been doing so good, last one, alright?” he reassured you, pecking your lips repeatedly.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you felt his body come on top of you. His hands on either side of your head, his chest against yours and the tip of his cock right at your entrance.

He pushed his hips forward, his cock stretching you out, more than the toy. You let out a small moan at the burn which bled into pleasure as he buried his cock further into you.

He groaned as he bottomed out into you, his face in the crook of your neck. His small breaths tickling your neck. His tip pressed firmly against your spongey spot, god was he big.

He pulled back slightly, snapping his hips forward before slowly pulling back again. He kept a slow pace, making sure to bury his cock as deep as he could into you.

His short thrusts made you writhe, the way his cock would just barely give you a break as he pulled back, only to shove himself deep into you again, making you feel incredibly full.

“so tight. just for me,” be breathed out. He moaned and licked at your neck, his teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin as he continued to fuck himself into you. Your hips bucking up to match his thrusts.

He groaned as you did this, making his tip ram into your spot harder. “fuck, just like that,” he sighed, a burn in his hips starting as he started to grow tired.

But the way your walls would clench around him, the soft sounds of him thrusting into you and your moans, there was no way he was going to stop.

Occasionally, he would take small breaks by shoving himself entirely in, rotating his hips for friction. You wailed at this, his entire body weight practically shoving his cock in deeper into you.

His finger trailed down your body, finding your swollen clit as he rubbed soft circles on it. “fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you hissed, throwing your head back.

He panted heavily, now thrusting himself harder. “me too, baby. fuck- so close,” he mewled before he felt you gasp, your legs suddenly shaking.

Your eyes rolled back, nails digging into the skin on his back as you cummed. Your walls tightly squeezing around him caused him to let out a deep groan, his cum squirting in you.

He let out strings of curses, his hips now slowing down. You whimpered as he continued, his head dropping slightly to watch his cock easily slide in & out of you.

His cum threatened to seep out, but didn’t as he grabbed your hips, angling them upward to keep it in. “B-bill,” you moaned out softly with a scrunched face, his eyes fixated on your cunt as he fucked his cum into you.

“just making sure it stays in,” he whispered back, laying back on top of you without pulling out. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead lovingly. “gonna stay inside for a bit longer.”

You chuckled, kissing his chin, nodding.

“i’m gonna quit my job.”

#bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #evieskiesss #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader

[edenfenixblogs]

hey, gentile here. just came across this post of yours and, first of all- it's SUPERB. it showed me a perspective on being a jewish ally that i really wouldn't ever have considered by myself, made me more confident in my choice to put combating jew-hatred above the friendships I've recently lost, and gave me a really useful direction on where to go as an ally to jewish people onwards. that being said, there's a few details about it I'd like to press you about, if it's not too much trouble.

this point is probably worthy of an eyeroll as i'm a culturally christian atheist (making a concious effort to not be *that* kind of atheist), but: when you refer to G-d as the creator of all things, you stress that that includes evil- but that, in so doing, G-d is not evil themself. now, I'm asking this with the express purpose of you correcting me, so: why does this G-d- as a G-d fundamentally distinct from the Christian conception of God as a Super-Mega-Ultra-Perfect God Who Can Do No Wrong Ever- create evil? i, personally, have been led to believe by @/spacelazarwolf that it is simply because G-d, too, makes mistakes just like any human being, but the way you worded it in this paragraph (which I've included as a screenshot below) had me interpret G-d creating evil as a concious, intentional action. did i just not read it correctly? and, if i didn't, then is the reason G-d creates evil part of this central struggle you went in detail into in the same paragraph, and as such, a very individual part of Jewish belief that no two jews agree on? and if that is so, would you be comfortable with sharing your version of it?

a few paragraphs after that one, you dedicated many words to make it absolutely crystal clear that, in the process of unlearning and combating jew-hatred in the society around me, i should, in spite of the vitriol that they propagate, love the former friends i lost to antisemitism. how- and *why* should i love the people who, on an early october 8th morning, actively celebrated the news of a massacre of Israeli civilians? who mocked- and still mock- the survivors and the families of hostages? who wield the memory of the holocaust as a baton against Jewish people's right to self defense? who deify terror groups who are up to their necks in atrocities? who make an active effort to spit on the face of *reality?* How could i possibly look at the face of a friend who chose allegiance to a terrorist group she did not even know existed four months ago over me- who she had actively interacted with for much longer?

would you rather we called ourselves "gentiles" or "goyim?" I've been calling myself a gentile for the longest time because i see jamming a word from a language i don't speak at all in an otherwise english sentence to be disrespectful and constitute appropriation, but you and other jumblr blogs have given me the impression that that is not the case. furthermore- i believe it was @/bambahalva who pointed out the usage of the word "gentile" in antisemitic segregation policies.

that is all- i hope this message finds you well. oh, yeah one more thing- what do you think of The Forward news network? i came across them by chance and next thing i knew I'd gotten into their newsletter.

WARNING: I HAVE FINISHED WRITING THIS AND IT'S LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND ALSO MORE JEWISH THAN I EXPECTED LOL! I have done the most Jewish possible thing I could do and answered all of your questions with questions. I'm sorrryyyyyy! This is what happens when you grow up surrounded by rabbis and future rabbis! LMAOO

Oooh! What a good ask! I love this ask. OK, so! Let's go in order.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. And thanking you for backing your words with the action of prioritizing kindness over hatred. It matters. More than I can ever explain. Thank you.

You know, it's funny. People ask me a lot of questions about i/p that they think will have simple and straightforward answers that just don't. And I end up writing a lot of essays because of this. The questions you wrote me seem like they should be complex, but feel relatively straightforward to me.

Now, to your first bullet point: I don't know. I truly do not know. I think that G-d is fundamentally just...G-d, and in so being, G-d is truly unknowable to me. I think many Jews have many different interpretations on why G-d creates evil. I'm no rabbi, but one of my BFFs is and so is her mother and great grandfather. That doesn't give me any kind of authority. It just means I've spent a lot of time thinking about theological questions like this. As for my perspective, I'm a progressive/reform Jew, not a humanistic Jew. I do actually believe in G-d, but I vibe with the community philosophies of Humanistic Judaism a lot. So that's the perspective I'm coming from here:

I'm not a particular fan of the Book of Job, because I think it gets twisted and interpreted in Christian ways more than most Hebrew books and it can too easily be twisted into a "Don't question G-d, because G-d is perfect" narrative that I find to be fundamentally at odds with how I practice Judaism. Also, it's just a very sad story about how a good and kind man lost everything, and it makes me sad to think about. HOWEVER, that traditional "Don't question G-d" narrative is not how I learned to think about that book. The way I learned it, I believe the Book of Job describes this issue most explicitly. After Job loses everything he holds dear and talks to all his friends and begs again and again "Why? Why did G-d do this to me? Why would G-d do this to me when I'm a good person?" And basically G-d hears everyone answering for G-d with various reasons, "Maybe you were bad." "Maybe you should make an offering" Maybe this. Maybe that. And eventually G-d responds from within a storm (paraphrased of course) 'Why the fuck do you think it's your business to know? I made the whole universe! I made everything you see. I made the world that gave you your family in your first place. Why do you think you get to question my motives?'

The way I always interpreted that is: I don't fricking know! It's not really my business. What am I gonna do? Stop G-d? How does my knowing why G-d creates evil help anything? It doesn't mean we don't question G-d. It means we should instead focus on what we CAN control. I can't make 10/7/2023 not happen any more than I could stop The Holocaust or form an ocean. That's divine business, not human business. What I CAN do is make the world better now. What use is it challenging things that we cannot change? Things that are in the past? What's the point of asking why bad things happen when we can instead focus on stopping more bad things from happening. G-d named us his people when Abraham fought with G-d to stop the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham repeatedly asked, "But are you sure? But what if there are 100 good people? 50 good people? 10 good people?" And G-d kept responding, basically, 'I mean, there aren't. I know this cuz of how I'm G-d and know all the things. But knock yourself out looking.' My interpretation of this was that G-d doesn't get mad when we do our utmost to help our fellow human beings. G-d gets mad when we waste our energy that we could be using to help our fellow man to instead be angry and rage futilely against the past. I say this as someone with PTSD as someone who attempted to stop a tragedy from occuring and failed and can never understand why. What informs my trauma and what makes it so hard to get past isn't that G-d allowed it to happen. It's that people did. It's that I begged for help before it happened--over and over and over to dozens of adults in various positions of authority in order to prevent this terrible thing from happening (no, I will not now or ever disclose what that thing is). And all the people who could have helped failed me, and now two people are dead. Because someone did an evil, evil thing. And a bunch of other people let it happen. I'm not mad at G-d. I'm mad at people. And yet, I also know that hating people and finding reasons to dismiss them and despise them is what leads to more tragedies like that happening. So, despite my rage, truly the only thing to do is to love people. It's the only that helps. It's the only thing that repairs the world. It's the only thing that we can control. So, in short, my answer to "Why does G-d create evil?" is "Why should I spend my valuable time on earth trying to answer that question when, instead, I can spend that same exact amount of time asking millions of people, 'How can I help? What's wrong, and how can I help make any part of it better?'?" We don't need to understand G-d to make the world a better place. I'm fine leaving G-d stuff to G-d and spending my time on the human stuff.

Now, your second bullet point. Love their souls. You don't have to love what they've done. But they are human beings, as are we all. I think this can also easily be twisted into the Christian framework of "Hate the sin, love the sinner," but that's not what I mean at all. People's evil deeds are a part of them. They need to take responsibility. There is no divine absolution for crimes that people do unto each other in Judaism. If you harm a person, G-d cannot forgive you for that. Only the person or people you harmed can forgive you. And to a certain degree, we are all defined by our actions toward others. And so, no. I do not forgive the terrorists who woke up and decided to kill a bunch of Israelis and Israeli-adjacent humans. I do not forgive those who celebrate the deaths of Israelis because of some misguided sense of justice. I do not forgive the people who continue to send me hatred and death threats day after day after day after day. And I do not love the parts of them that did and do those horrible, unforgivable things. But my goodness. They were babies once. They either had parents who love(d) them, which is so sad, because they have this life of love and they chose instead to fill it with so much hate. Or they didn't have any parents or loved ones or anyone to guide them and, my goodness. That is so sad. How terrifying and alone that must feel. Maybe they have friends and family who love them and are instead wasting their precious time on this planet directing their energy at raging against me and 15 million other Jews they've never met. Or maybe they don't have anyone who loves them and they think that hating me and harming me will bring them some sense of purpose and joy. What a horrid way to live.

My Grandpa died last year. I have a wonderful family for whom I'm very grateful, and I even have good memories with my Grandpa. But he was not a good person. He came from an abusive home, and weaponized that abuse on his loved ones until he drove them all away. He was a narcissist. Not in the pop psychology sense. But in the actual clinical sense. He ruined every relationship that ever mattered to him--personal and professional. And in the end, because of his own actions, he died alone. He had pushed everyone so far (often with legal threats and action) that when he died, he laid on a slab for weeks because nobody could figure out who to call, because he had no one left. (For reference, Jewish burials are supposed to happen rather quickly and two weeks is...not good.) He was the only person in his generation who was not born in Israel--my family on his side has lived in Israel since looooong before even the British Mandate and he was the only person in his family born and raised in the US. As far as we can tell, the family on that side has been in Israel for as long as Jews have existed. He was religious. And while I've never been to Israel or met any of my family there, he did go. And he kept in touch with his relatives there before driving them away too. He was a wealthy man, but convinced himself that everyone only wanted him for his money and then decided to horde it instead. He left nothing to his children or to me. He left all his money in an endowment to his university--a place that uses that money to fund anti-Israel organizations now. He died alone, without his family that lived nearby, and with a legacy that will now cause active harm to the family that lived far away. He could have died surrounded by the loved ones from around the world who wanted nothing more than to be near him and loved by him. His story is a tragedy. The story of every person who chooses hatred over love is a tragedy. The story of someone who woke up and chose to murder others or to delight in the death of others is a tragedy. I love the soul in the center of these people. I loved my grandfather. I could not be around him. I cannot forgive some of the things he said and did. But I love the person he could have been. I love the part of him that gave me some good memories. I love the family he gave to me.

No, we do not all need to love or forgive those who have wronged us or terrorized us or murdered our loved ones. But that is different from mourning a human soul. From loving the potential of a human soul to do good in the world, and mourning the loss of that soul and its potential. Every human being--every single one no matter what they have done in their lives--has the potential to create goodness and make the world a better place. Every moment of every single day is a new chance to meet that challenge and do our best. Sure, not all of us have it in us to try our best every single moment. Sometimes life is hard and we're sad and tired and hungry and angry. And that's ok, because we have tomorrow, and an hour from now, and a minute from now. But the moment someone chooses to take action and decides that action should be to cause another harm or celebrate the harm that was caused? That's a tragedy. And when a life is extinguished, that is a life that loses its potential to try again and do better. We shouldn't love people because we deem them worthy of love. We should love people because they are people. And so are we. And how wonderful is that? I could choose to hate them. It would be so easy! But why should I do that? What do I gain? What do they gain? And isn't it so wonderful that I chose to love instead? And isn't it so wonderful that you can, too?

As for your final bullet point: I have no preference. I say goyim cuz it's easier for me. Goy/gentile/non-Jew are all fine to me. I have some icky feelings about the word gentile for a variety of linguistic reasons I won't bore you with. But some other people don't like when non-Jews appropriate Yiddish words. Others (including me) find it wonderful when non-Jews call themselves goyim. All my closest non-Jewish people call themselves goyim, including my sister! Non-jew is the most neutral in English and least likely to offend anyone. But it still separates Jews as an other whereas "goy" is a way to distinguishing yourself from Jews while also being an acknowledgment of our culture. As far as I'm concerned as long as a goy is being a goy (ally, positive) rather than a goy (derogatory) I don't mind that they call themselves goyim. LOL! Idk, friend. Do what makes you happy! What do you prefer?!

Regarding The Forward news network: They are a reliable Left-Center source with a high credibility and reporting rating and only one failed fact check in the past five years for which they issued a correction. I would consider them a reliable source. They cover legitimate issues of people who support Palestinan self-determination ostensibly being punished for their stances. They publish Op-eds critical of Netanyahu, who is terrible. And they address how antisemitism is harming diaspora Jews. They seem to consistently emphasize the humanity of everyone, which you can tell based on the rest of my post is very important to me, but they also avoid over-editorializing on news that is not in the Op-Ed section. I'll never endorse any source as perfect or guaranteed to be free of problems or harm or bad takes, but they do seem to make a genuine effort to be factual, clear, and wholly truthful. Note: I highly recommend that everyone installs the Media Bias/Fact Check extension on their web browsers. Get in the habit of checking and evaluating sources critically. It's a skill that will serve you your whole life.

@clawdia-houyhnhnm I hope this helps. And thank you for your thoughtful ask and commitment to intercultural understanding. <3

#ask me stuff #clawdia-houyhnhnm #leftist antisemitism #antisemitism #jewish muslim solidarity #jewish goyim solidarity #Judaism #jewish culture #jumblr #how to help #allyship #media literacy

[thisismysecondrodeo]

obsessed with thinking about how ted would react to seeing y/n in more revealing clothes for the first time; short shorts, a crop top, a bikini, maybe some lingerie that y/n picked out just for him 😁😁

AN: Thank you for being patient this request has been bumping around in my inbox for a while and it's a good one!!

Swimsuit for reference (a black-owned brand I highly recommend so affordable! I own 3 of their swimsuits lol)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Secret Relationship, Established Relationship, Pre-smut, Vacation, When you're trying to get it on but your boss walks in, Reader in a swimsuit, Ted losing it just a little Fic Masterlist

-

You and Ted had been surprisingly successful at keeping your relationship under wraps at work. Of course HR knew; as soon as you got hired as Rebecca's personal assistant and Ted volunteered to give you a tour of the pitch, you knew he'd be a problem. You saw more of his broad shoulders in his white polo than you saw any of Nelson Road. And you were too busy looking at him to notice him looking at you. Back upstairs, you tried to surreptitiously ask for the policy on dating colleagues, but it was obvious who you were interested in, and it only took a few days for both of you to get your shit together and make a move.

It was a mutual decision to keep the relationship quiet: you were still getting your bearings at work and Ted had enough going on as it was. But it was certainly nice to pop in on him on quiet days with a coffee or to sit out on the pitch while you sent emails and pretend like you didn't see Ted trying to impress you with tricks the boys had taught him. A few of the boys had asked if you were seeing anyone and Keeley and Rebecca had tried to set you up a few times, and you were so thankful for the friendships you were forming but it was getting harder to come up with creative ways to shut them down. You and Ted hadn't spoken about how long you would keep things under wraps but you were in no big rush, especially when you still got to come home to your boyfriend in a Kansas City t-shirt and sweatpants cooking carbonara and offering you a glass of wine.

"So are you excited for the teambuilding extravaganza," you smiled at Ted as you hopped up on the counter beside him watching him beat together eggs and cheese.

"Sure am! I'm already packed. Looking forward to 5 beautiful days in Majorca. Just hope the boys don't get into too much trouble out there."

"M-Majorca?"

Ted looked at you over his shoulder confused at your reaction but then he smirked, "Well yeah? Why is something wrong with Majorca?"

"Nothing's wrong with Majorca," you laughed. "Rebecca just asked me to go with her to Majorca but she didn't mention anything about the team..."

Ted was plating up pasta as you chuckled over what you thought was a coincidence and you followed him to the table. "I may have been a little earworm in the bosses' ear, suggested the boys might stay out of the news if the boss was nearby."

"Ted!" You exclaimed when you realized he looked somewhat sheepish. "What you're saying is you tricked my boss into going on vacation so you could hang out on a beach with your girlfriend?"

Conveniently, Ted had too much pasta in his mouth to respond beyond a small shrug and you laughed. You were only teasingly mad, because you were already planning the outfits you'd pack and the sneaking around the two of you'd get into. "Well I guess I better get packing too," you said and watched as Ted beamed.

-

You'd scheduled Rebecca a couple hours of massages and facials and she'd invited you to join her but you declined. You weren't lying when you told her you weren't big on massages, but you certainly did have ulterior motives. You slipped on a swimsuit you'd bought specifically with Ted in mind: a colorful abstract two pieces, thin straps crisscrossing your midsection. He'd sent you a selfie from the hotel beach so you knew exactly where he'd be. He'd captioned it vacation face because he hadn't shaved and his salt and pepper scruff was in full effect. You couldn't deny it did something to you to see it in a picture, you knew you'd lose it to see it in person.

Stepping out on the beach, a few of the players called out hellos and you waved but kept moving, knowing you were still technically at work and just popping out to see Ted. You found him in a beach chair next to Beard, who was snoozing with his latest paperback tented over his face. Ted on the other hand was looking right at you, the arms of his orange-tinted sunglasses glinting in the sun, his lips slightly parted. You smiled, but crossing the sand with his gaze heavy on you brought on a sudden wave of lust. You wanted to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling. You wanted to climb into his lap in that chair and feel his stubble, secret relationship be damned.

He took his sunglasses off as you approached, tucking them into the pocket of the short sleeve linen shirt he was wearing. He looked downright delectable on vacation and you couldn't wait to say just that. Meanwhile, he was looking at you like a precious piece of art. His eyes roamed every inch of your exposed skin from top to bottom and back again and a blush crept up his cheeks that you knew wasn't just from the sun

"Hiya Coach," you flirted and Ted bit his bottom lip, his hand reaching for you on instinct before he realized where he was.

"Hi Y/N, you look...," he glanced over at Beard but seemed content that the man was sleeping, "fucking fantastic." Your jaw dropped at the profanity that he never used in public but put to use frequently in the bedroom. The look in Ted's eyes was as erotic as you've ever seen and you wanted his hands on you immediately.

"I was going to ask if this seat was taken," you gestured to the chair on the other side of him, "but you're looking a little...hot." You grinned, leaning just a bit closer under the guise of getting under the umbrella. "Why don't you come inside with me for a bit, Coach?"

Ted moved like you had just told him there was a fire and you couldn't help but laugh at the way he kicked through the sand. You caught up and led him to the suite you shared with Rebecca, figuring you still had a solid hour and a half before her pampering was over, and Ted was sharing with Beard who was asleep at the moment but could come knocking any minute. You pulled Ted into your private room and his hands were on you instantly as the two of you tumbled onto the plush hotel bed.

"Now where did you get this little number," Ted whispered gruffly in your ear as he trailed his fingers along the straps just below your belly button.

"That's what you want to ask when you could be asking me to take it off," you sighed and Ted smiled devilishly.

"I dunno," Ted said, pulling the fabric of the bottoms to the side and sliding his finger where you were already embarrassingly slick, "Maybe I'm thinking of keeping them on." Ted placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his scruff sending little shockwaves to where his fingers were still exploring and you whimpered loudly.

And then you heard, "Y/N?"

The two of you had been so distracted you hadn't heard Rebecca come into the common area of the suite. You looked at Ted wide-eyed not sure if you should slide out from under him and answer or pretend you weren't there. Ted looked as tense as you felt, silently sliding your bottoms back in place. He looked around for somewhere to hide and sat up, in the process knocking a book off your nightstand with a sharp thud.

Undeterred and unaware, Rebecca knocked and then pushed the door open talking the whole time. "I ended up leaving the appointment early because I forgot I had a call with a member of the foundation about the gala, do you think you could order me—"

Rebecca finally looked up and noticed your... entanglement. You and Ted hadn't moved a muscle—you were on your back in a skimpy swimsuit and Ted was sitting next to you, one leg off the bed and shirt unbuttoned. There was absolutely no mistaking what Rebecca had just interrupted and you could see the little amused smile on her face.

"Oh, hello Coach Lasso." Ted gave her a small wave, tucking his shirt around himself like a robe. "Will you be joining us for lunch?"

You couldn't help it. You outright cackled at the ridiculousness of this moment. "I'm SO sorry, Rebecca, I'll—"

"No, no," she responded immediately, "I shouldn't have just barged in like that. I'll leave you two to—uh, well. I'll leave. But then I want all the details." Rebecca winked at you as she shut the door and you dissolved into giggles looking at Ted's mortified face.

"We're so lucky we have a cool boss," you whispered, sitting up to kiss Ted apologetically.

"You won't hear me disagreein', but boy was that embarrassing," Ted chuckled, "next time I'll just kick Beard out."

"Well, you might as well text him now because I'll be seeing you tonight."

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso x reader #x reader #reader #reader insert

[dailyadventureprompts]

As someone overburdened with ideas it's SO hard figuring out what campaign I'm going to run next. I've got a group of players slowly coagulating but I'm still trying to figure out exactly what I'm going to put infront of them for session 0. The problem is that while I have no shortage of raw narrative material the vast majority of it doesn't easily snap together to coherent campaigns, to say nothing of those ideas that seem fun but haven't yet developed enough to fill out all of my checklist.

Decisive intro: One of my must haves is the idea that there's an initial concept/motivation baked into the campaign pitch that the players can latch onto when building their characters. It's so much easier than my earlier days of " Alright people we're playing d&d make your characters on your own and we'll see how the group sorts itself out by the first session."

Central gameplay mechanic: An understanding of what the players are going to be doing most of the time to progress the plot. Mysteries involve investigating, pirate games include naval battles, sprawling political epics involve diplomacy and spycraft. Just like with the intro, this lets your players create characters who are conceptually and mechanically relevant to the game as it unfolds. Likewise it's a good idea to have the central mechanic reflected in some way in the intro adventure. If its a heist game, make them steal something.

Bulletproof first act adventure: Carrying through on the momentum of the intro, dealing with its consequences, confronting its villains, getting the party tangled up in various other plot threads but tying off neatly at the end.

Strong idea for future arcs of the campaign: To provide those previously mentioned plot threads and enough background worldbuilding. No idea what adventure hooks the party will bite down on but It's my policy to always pack a full tacklebox.

Touchstones: Another unexpected but absolutely necessary inclusion is to give your players a smattering of different pieces of media for them to reference as to the tone and boundaries of this campaign. Is your classic medieval fantasy Lord of The Rings gravity, Narnian wonder, or Montypython absurdity? You HAVE to get the whole party on the same page about it.

What drives all this frustration into actual absurdity is that most players don't even have strong opinions about which campaign they're playing, they're just happy to show up and play whatever amazing thing I've made for them. You think that'd make this easier but it doesn't!

Please, if you're ever in one of my games, have opinions and be loud about them. Be flexible, yeah, but be forward with your likes and expectations.

#dapper digresses

[mixelation]

some of the reborn au stuff i was working on

context: tori has applied to an internal chunin promotion, and instead of just giving it to her, minato was like "nah, go do the next exam in kiri. it'll be good pr for konoha if you're in the tournament, which i want you to just win. oh, but do it using really obvious and flashy fuinjutsu. and don't melt anyone we don't want to seem scary. idk you should try to be, like, cool and charming for potential clients"

so tori has made herself EXTREMELY stressed over this because while everyone else in her life is like "yeah obviously tori could beat the shit out of any random genin" she habitually underestimates her self. what if there is a deidara or an itachi in the tournament. ever think of that???

anyway this is introducing the other konoha-nin involved

****

Tori arrived to her meeting spot near Konoha’s front gate with two minutes to spare, take-away latte in hand. The genin of Team 2 were already there, looking distinctly nervous. 

They are so small, Tori thought with some anxiety. What if the Kiri-nin metaphorically tried to eat them? Actual thirteen year olds were vicious things, but they were also delicate little babies. Would Tori have to save them? 

“Hey,” she greeted. “Team 2? I’m Tori, the other genin.” They stared at her, nonplussed. Oh no, they’re scared little babies, Tori thought with some trepidation. “Er– where is your sensei?”

“We just got word he has meningitis,” the girl of the team said, sounding upset. She had the cute round face and the orangey-red hair of an Akimichi, flowing over her shoulders in two braids. “The messenger said someone else would be assigned.”

Tori squinted at her. Okay, yeah, that sounded… bad. 

“Viral or bacterial?” Tori asked. All three genin stared blankly back at her. Had she slipped up? They had different and fewer pathogens here. Maybe they only had one type…?

Oh, no, maybe thirteen year olds just didn’t know the difference.

Tori had no idea how one recruited a Jounin for a mission this long, this last second. In theory Minato could command ninja to do whatever he wanted, but he also seemed to operate under the policy that better treated ninja got him better results. There weren't a lot of people who would just be okay with being told one morning they’d be in Kiri for over a month, plus travel time in both directions. She imagined they were about to be set up with some sort of weirdo from ANBU.  

They only had to wait another fifteen minutes for their replacement Jounin. 

Oh my God, Tori thought as she stared at him.

“I’m Uchiha Shisui!” Shisui aimed his introduction at the team of thirteen year olds. He beamed at them, flashing his teeth. Compared to the little genin, he looked more like an adult than a gangly teen. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you. Let’s all get along.”

He took a moment to eye Tori’s latte with what she assumed was regular Uchiha judgment. She tightened her grip on it. She needed this latte, okay? Lattes were the only thing keeping her sane nowadays. 

The kunoichi of the genin team was blushing as she stared shyly back at Shisui. Tori felt tempted to pick her up and shake her. 

“Why don’t you all introduce yourselves before we head out?” Shisui said. “Because this is so last minute, I didn’t get a chance to brief myself on any of your backgrounds. Have any of you run missions outside Fire Country before?”

Tori knew this question was aimed at the actual children, because Shisui obviously knew all about Team 4’s missions and where she’d grown up via Itachi. The wording that he assumed they all hadn’t still made her hackles rise. 

Team 2 hadn’t ever been out of the country for a mission, it turned out. Akimichi Himi, the blushing kunoichi, said she’d gone on a month-long trip with her parents last year to research cuisines in Rice Country. 

“That’s super cool, Himi-chan,” Tori said, perhaps too loudly and quickly. God knew Shisui wasn’t good at not dismissing the incredibly interesting and rich lives of young ladies. 

Himi looked at her like she wasn’t sure why she was talking. Tori shut her mouth.

The two boys on the team were Kato Tetsuro and Uchiha Shouten. Shouten also seemed flustered to be speaking with Shisui. Tori had no idea why. Weren’t they cousins?

“I’m Tori,” Tori said when her turn came. “I’ve been outside of Fire Country before. Um, let’s see, I’m running solo because my genin teammates were already promoted. I already took the exam once, so I’m happy to answer questions about it.”

“But you failed?” Shouten asked, raising his head to eye her in incredible judgment. 

Is every Uchiha an asshole? Tori wondered. 

“Failing a chunin exam is sometimes more about politics than a ninja’s quality,” Shisui said smoothly. Well, at least he wasn’t condescending every time he opened his mouth. 

“Is everyone ready to head out?” Shisui asked. “Don’t worry. We can take this trip slow and steady. I want you guys to tell me more about yourselves.” 

And slow and steady they did take it, walking out of the village at a casual pace and then keeping that pace up for the rest of the day. Itachi would be having a meltdown. 

Shisui quizzed them on their specialties as they walked, since he’d been filling in as their mentor for the exam. His attentions were focused more on the young genin team, which Tori didn’t mind. He spoke to them like they were about eight, and if he used that tone on her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her tongue in check. 

When they breaked to make camp, Shisui went off on his own to scout the area. Himi immediately turned to Shouten. 

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed. “Shouten, your cousin is a total hottie.”

Shouten rolled his eyes. “He’s out of your league, Himi-chan,” he said. “Shisui-san is a genius. He’s one of the most decorated ninja in the clan, and he’s only seventeen.”

And too old for you! Tori nearly yelled at Himi. She knew it was normal for a kid to crush on older people, but… but!

“Do you think he could help you awaken your sharingan?” Tetsuro asked, and Shouten’s cheeks went red. 

“Never mind that!” Himi said. “Quick, tell me everything you know about Shisui-san. What are his favorite foods? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, duh! Does he like girls with long hair or short?”

“I don’t know him that well,” Shouten griped, stretching his legs out in front of him. His face remained red. “The Uchiha clan is pretty big, and we’re not closely related. Plus, he’s like super famous. He’s the only one Itachi-sama ever hangs out with. He’s that good.”

What the hell is happening? Tori wondered as Tetsuro leaned back on his hands and started to wonder out loud what kind of training they could get from such a prestigious shinobi that the Uchiha Itachi would deign to be buddies with him. How do these random children know so much about Itachi?

“Oh yeah!” Himi said, turning to Tori. “Aren’t you the same age as Uchiha Itachi? Were you in his class?”

“Uh,” Tori said. 

“Why would she remember?” Shouten cut in. “He graduated in four months.”

“Really?” Tori asked, surprised. She thought he’d been in there a whole year… 

“Do you really not know?” Shisui asked, suddenly appearing behind her. Then he said, in a decidedly more authoritative voice than he’d used so far that day,  “Did none of you make any moves to set up camp?”

The conversation switched to splitting up tasks. Team 2 obviously already had their own system, and while Tori would usually be happy to just sit back and watch other people work, she felt self-conscious about doing it on their first night in front of Shisui. She was pretty sure Shisui saw her as full of herself and overconfident, and she wouldn’t give him more support for that theory. 

She ended up prepping ingredients for dinner under Himi’s command. She didn’t know how she ended up being bossed around by a little thirteen year old, but… well, what was she going to do? Tell an Akimichi how to cook? 

Over dinner, Shisui turned to Tori and asked, “How’s R&D?”

Tori was surprised that he’d both known her current station and also cared enough to ask. Did… did Itachi talk about her? She felt a flash of warmth at the idea. 

“It was a bit of an adjustment,” she said slowly, acutely aware of Team 2 also listening in. She wouldn’t go into why it was an adjustment, not with Shouten staring between her and Shisui that intently. “I’m going for promotion with the hopes of heading my own projects, actually.”

Shisui frowned slightly. “You couldn’t just get an internal promotion? Your mission record has got to be strong enough that you’d get one no problem.”

Shouten’s look was intensifying as he tried to unravel the conversation they were having. Shisui’s posture stayed loose and casual, like Shouten didn’t look like he was attempting to awaken his sharingan as he spoke. 

“I applied, but… um, Hokage-sama told me to do this instead,” Tori said. 

“Ah,” Shisui said, like that made total sense. “Yeah, okay. I thought it was weird he’d be taking you off R&D for a whole month…” Shisui suddenly straightened, flashing a smile at the rest of the genin. “The chunin exam is only a month-long commitment if you make it to the final stage. It’s no big deal if you don’t! Like I said, politics are a big part of these exams. Even your little hero Itachi failed his first exam.”

“No way,” Shouten exhaled. 

“Yep,” Shisui said with a wink. “By the way, Himi, this is really good.”

Himi preened. Tori considered tossing her dinner in Shisui’s face. She didn’t think Shisui was a slimeball who’d purposefully encourage a kid’s crush on him on, but also–!

The after-dinner talk turned into the other genin quizzing Shisui on missions he’d been on, and who the coolest ninja he’d worked with were. Shisui was incredibly vague in most of his answers, as ANBU missions tended to be super classified, but he had no problem dropping a handful of famous names, seemingly just to see the genin’s faces light up. ANBU operatives had tears of anonymity; basically everyone knew who Hatake Kakashi was and that he was a captain, for example. 

“Itachi is like a legend,” Himi babbled. “He’s two years above us, so he graduated before we started, but all the senior students talked about him.”

Shouten glared at his sandals as she talked, clearly… jealous, or something. Poor kid. 

“Oh yeah,” Shisui said, turning to Tori, who’s mostly been sitting out of this conversation. “How did you of all people not know Itachi graduated early?”

“Look, I knew he graduated early,” Tori said. “I just didn’t realize how early. Four months, seriously? You’re lucky he knows how to read.”

Apparently this was a disrespectful thing to say, as Team 2 all looked stricken and then turned to Shisui with wide eyes. Shisui just laughed good naturedly. 

“‘You of all people’….?” Himi repeated. Then she brightened. “Tori, are you a fan of Itachi?”

The tiniest smirk crossed Shisui’s lips.

“Yes,” he said. “The biggest fan.”

Fuck you, Tori thought. 

xXx

Tori did not bother to correct anyone on their assumptions about her and Itachi, mostly because she predicted that would turn the ten day trip even more awkward. Tori did not like the idea of anyone being impressed with her social connections, rather than Tori’s own accomplishments. She kept her mouth shut on her genin team. 

Himi did very smugly ask Tori for her crush list more than once. They were– technically– physically Himi was only a year younger than her. This would be a normal way to bond. But it also made Tori low-key want to scream. 

(Tori almost said Kakashi as a way to make Himi stop asking. He seemed like a normal target for a ninja celebrity crush, and she knew enough about him to have a conversation. But also, if that ever somehow got back to him, she would actually die.)

“How is Deidara not famous?” she did mutter to Shisui one evening while they were washing out cooking ware together. 

“I think they’re probably too young to be paying attention to the really interesting gossip,” Shisui replied. “Maybe you should hype him up. I’ll back you up that you’re a huge fangirl–”

Tori splashed water at him. “Oi!” she said. “Why did you even do that?”

Shisui flipped a pot over, pouring water back into the stream they were sitting on. 

“I thought you might not like them losing their minds,” he said. “I figured– like, if you didn’t like it, you could have just corrected me.”

This was… true. She did prefer it this way, if they had to talk about Itachi. But also: she still didn’t like it. 

“How is the entire world obsessed with him?” she wondered. 

“Beats me,” Shisui replied. 

They made it to Kiri midday of day ten, right on time. Kiri was surrounded by a thick, blue-gray stone wall. The individual stones were not uniformly cut, yet every irregular angle and nook fit perfectly into the neighboring stone. It was impressive. 

There was a guard outside the main gate, specifically for the Chunin Exam. Shisui chatted with her briefly and handed over their papers. Someone was called in to lead them to their accommodations, and while they waited for their tour guide, the guard lectured them on their rules of conduct for the stay. 

It was better than the rules they were given in Iwa. They could actually look around parts of the village, and they were getting an actual hotel room instead of abandoned dorms. No one patted them down for contraband. Shisui was handed a stack of food vouchers, good at any restaurant. 

Then something happened that Tori should have anticipated, but had been so stressed over other things that she hadn’t given it much thought. Kisame showed up to be their guide. 

“Really?” the guard asked, eyeing Kisame up and down dubiously. “Don’t they have better things for you to be doing?”

Kisame smiled, all friendly but showing off pointed teeth. Shisui straightened up, and the other genin shuffled nervously. Tori had no idea if a genin would recognize Kisame, but they’d definitely recognize he was a giant blue shark man. 

“I volunteered,” Kisame said. “I’ve met one of the entrants before. I was curious.”

Shisui’s eyes immediately shot to Tori, almost accusing. 

Oh, they really didn’t brief you, huh, Tori thought. She attempted to communicate this at him with her face. 

“Well, whatever,” the guard was saying. “Konoha, this is Hoshigaki Kisame. He’s one of our Seven Swordsmen. Be polite, or he’ll eat you.”

Team 2’s collective faces went pale, and Kisame laughed. 

He led them into the village, and Shisui stepped forward to lead the Konoha genin, walking at Kisame’s side. He introduced himself to Kisame, making small talk as they walked. Tori watched them, wondering how much Itachi had talked about Shisui to Kisame, before. Kisame was usually pretty easy to read, but he was also habitually polite. It was difficult to tell if he was being friendlier with Shisui than he would anyone else. 

“Iwa was an… interesting experience,” Kisame was saying, and then turned his head to flash his teeth at Tori over his shoulder. 

“Extremely interesting,” Tori agreed. “I hope this exam is comparatively boring.”

“With you here?” Kisame teased, and Tori felt her face go hot. 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been explicitly ordered to be peppy,” she replied. 

“Peppy?” Shisui repeated, dubious. This was clearly news to him. 

“Are any other entrants here yet?” Tori asked, directing the conversation away from herself. 

“You’re on the earlier side,” Kisame replied, and then he made her work to get as much info on other teams as she could out of him. 

Kisame pointed out their hotel, and then took them on a walk around the surrounding neighborhoods they were allowed to wander freely. It was, as far as Tori could tell, a largely civilian part of town. But it was pretty and comfortable, she thought; she’d always liked all the greenery and little canals Kiri had running through it. The mood of the people they saw on the street was overall happier than when she’d last been here, eyes following them more with curiosity than disdain. Kisame had done a good job saving his village from civil war. 

The outskirts of the perimeter had some training grounds they were allowed to use, as they’d arrived two days before the start of the exam. 

Finally, Kisame said, “And then… well, technically it’s not inside the perimeter, but I could still show you…” 

Kisame had been largely directing his tour guide speech to Shisui, but now he turned to Tori, grinning down at her knowingly. 

“Have any of you genin been to a beach?” 

****

for anyone of you who picked up the moral inconsistency between tori being annoyed at shisui for potentially (though not intentionally) encouraging himi's crush and her own treatment of mangetsu....... yes <3

#reborn au #my writing

[lau219]

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Part 2

Part 1 here

…………………………………………………………………………….

​“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?”

​Turning from the chain link fence, Y/N smiled as her eyes fell upon the young boy who came up beside her.

​“Hi, Max,” she replied. “I’m here for Henry’s game. His coach called and asked me to come.”

​“Why?” Max asked as he looked up at her.

​“Well, the other nurse who usually comes to the games isn’t feeling well and she couldn’t make it, so the coach asked me to be here instead.”

​“Oh,” Max replied. “Well, the other nurse usually sits in her car and watches from the parking lot.”

​Y/N smiled. She knew her coworker typically napped in her front seat while at the kids’ baseball games. It was the community center’s policy to have a nurse present at every game in case anyone got hurt, and while all the nurses would jump at the chance for the extra 90 minutes of pay at the beginning of the season, the person who ended up landing the gig each year usually wound up regretting it within the first few games. They’d realize too little too late that the extra pay wasn’t worth the 90 minutes of sheer boredom. But Y/N had happily agreed to cover for her coworker that afternoon when the coach had called; she enjoyed seeing the kids have fun, and she could catch up with a few of her girlfriends who had sons or nephews on the team. She’d filled in several times in the past, and she’d never been bored.

​“I prefer to watch the game up close,” Y/N answered as she reached down and ruffled Max’s hair. “Is that ok with you?”

​“Yeah,” he replied as he smiled up at her. “You’re a lot nicer than the other lady, and you like baseball. You’re pretty cool for a girl.”

​Y/N smiled again.

​“Thanks,” she replied. “I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

​She continued to smile as she looked down at the 8-year-old boy, appreciating, as always, how sweet he was. His 12-year-old brother, Henry, was also a gem, despite the fact that he was at an age where he should be a smart-mouthed wise aleck. She hated to admit it, but, clearly, when it came to the boys, Emmett knew what he was doing. But then, how could his kids be so sweet and enjoyable when he was so frustrating and irritating? She could never figure it out.

​“Do you wanna sit with me when the game starts?” Max asked her.

​She had been in the middle of waving to Henry out on the field when she furrowed her brow at Max’s question.

​“Don’t you usually sit with your dad?” she asked.

​“Yeah, but you can sit with us, too. Besides, he’s not here yet.”

​Y/N frowned again.

​“What do you mean? How did you get here, then?”

​“Henry and I walk here after summer camp; a lot of the kids do,” Max replied. “Then we all just hang out while the coach gets everything ready. My dad usually meets us here after he’s done with work, but that’s not until right before the game starts.”

​“Oh, I see,” Y/N said as she nodded her head. She looked at her watch and then spoke again. “Are you hungry, honey? It’s been a couple hours since camp ended. Do you need a snack or anything?”

​Max looked up at her.

​“One of the moms sometimes has snacks for everybody, but she doesn’t come every time, so sometimes we don’t get anything,” he replied.

​“Is that what happened today?” Y/N asked him.

​Max lowered his head and looked forward through the fence.

​“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “But it’s ok. My dad usually brings something to eat with him when he comes.”

​“Does he bring something every time?” Y/N asked.

​Max shook his head.

​“No.”

​She didn’t like the risk of him possibly not having anything to eat. She also guessed that Emmett likely wouldn’t have any cash on him – hardly anyone still carried cash anymore. But the snack bar people only took cash, and she had a few bills on her because the vending machines at the hospital where she worked only took cash.

Letting go of the fence, she inhaled and turned to Max.

​“Are you hungry?” she asked him again.

​Silently, he nodded his head.

​“Come on, then,” she said. “I’ll get you something at the snack bar. If it turns out your dad brings something, he can have it for himself.”

​“Really?” Max asked her, his eyes glowing.

​“Yeah,” she smiled, and she reached down and grabbed his hand, walking with him over to the small concession stand that stood at the end of the bleachers.

​As they stood in line, she could only imagine what Emmett would bring with him for them to eat, if anything. Not that she thought he was careless about the boys. That was something she could never criticize him for – she had witnessed firsthand that he was a terrific father. But if she was in his shoes, she could see herself easily forgetting to bring something if she’d have had to come here straight from work. She also could imagine he didn’t have the most appealing options, as he wouldn’t have time to make a separate stop to pick something up before the game. It would probably be some old bag of crushed chips or a smooshed snack cake leftover from his lunch, the packaging no doubt covered in droplets of oil after sitting on the bench at his auto shop.

She decided that getting something for the boys at the snack bar was the quickest and simplest solution. Looking at Max again, she squeezed his hand and smiled as he chattered on about what he’d done at camp that day.

•.•.•.•.•.•

​Walking across the dirt parking lot, Emmett shoved his keys in his pocket and began scanning the area for Max as he got closer to the baseball diamond. Typically, when Emmett was a few minutes late, Max would sit with some of the other players’ siblings and their parents, and Emmett would grab him once he got there. He wasn’t late often, but today, he’d been kept at the shop longer than usual due to his one employee unexpectedly needing to leave early. That had left him to finish up the work on a customer’s car by himself, and it couldn’t wait, as the customer had already complained that the work was taking too long. Emmett just wanted to get the work done and have the customer out of his hair. He hadn’t even had a chance to eat lunch today, and he groaned to himself as the thought of food made him realize that he’d forgotten to bring along some kind of snack for the boys. They only took cash at the damn concession stand, and he groaned again as he quickly pulled out his wallet and saw that he had no cash on him. The poor boys would have to wait until they got home after the game.

​As he made it to the edge of field, he saw that the game hadn’t actually started yet. Several parents were standing to the side of the players’ benches and speaking with the coach, and the boys who were slotted to start first in the game were milling around the field and waiting. As Emmett zeroed in on Henry’s team’s side, he spotted Max standing at the end of the fence and talking to Henry as they waited for the game to start, but they weren’t alone. Emmett squinted for a moment before realizing that the woman standing with them was Y/N. As he realized it was her, he stopped. What was she doing here?

​One of Max’s hands was tucked inside of hers, and his other was holding a hot dog, which he lifted to his mouth for another bite as he happily shifted from foot to foot. As Emmett continued to watch them, he saw Y/N smiling at Henry as she lifted her free hand and held a Styrofoam cup out to him, offering him a drink of whatever was in the cup. Henry smiled appreciatively at her as he took the cup, and after he’d handed it back to her, Y/N encouraged Max to turn around and start heading for the bleachers, the game now about to begin. Witnessing their interaction stirred something in Emmett.

Although he and Y/N were frequently at odds with each other, Emmett knew she was 100% right the other day when she’d said that his boys liked her. They always had, and he hated to admit that she was also right that, except with him, she was a very nice person. He’d witnessed it countless times since she’d moved in next door a couple years ago. Everyone loved her. But for whatever reason, when it came to the two of them, they seemed to bring out the worst in each other, constantly butting heads or arguing over the littlest things. They also drove each other crazy with their styles of arguing – Emmett always kept his cool and irked her on with laid-back provocation, and Y/N annoyed him with her pestering and her dramatic overreactions. He was relaxed and go-with-the-flow; she was fussy and particular. They were complete opposites.

Making his way the final yards to where they were, Emmett first caught Max’s attention just as he and Y/N were about to climb up the bleachers.

“Dad!” Max shouted, and he released Y/N’s hand and bounced over to Emmett, colliding with his leg as Emmett reached down and warmly wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulder.

“Y/N’s here to be the nurse for the game, and I told her she can sit with us. Is that ok?” Max looked up at his father brightly, a smear of ketchup at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I don’t know, buddy,” Emmett began, still looking down at Max before raising his head to look at Y/N as he finished. “You know how badly the nurse is needed at these games; she’ll probably be really busy.” He could barely contain his smirk as he watched Y/N process his sarcastic jab. Max, however, was clueless to the joke.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Nothing ever happens. The other lady just waits in her car for the game to be over.”

“Your dad was just trying to be funny, Max,” Y/N spoke up, but her eyes remained locked with Emmett’s. “But I think he needs a lot more practice.”

“Or maybe some of us are just too uptight,” Emmett said, his smirk escaping as he looked at her.

Max lifted his head and looked back and forth between Y/N and Emmett, still oblivious to the situation, but picking up on the tension as he watched them stare at each other.

“You guys are weird,” he said innocently.

Emmett broke their gaze then and looked down to Max, his eyes landing on the food in his hand.

“Where’d you get the hot dog?” he asked him, changing the subject.

“Y/N got it for me,” Max answered. “She got one for Henry, too. And a soda for us to share.” He looked over to Y/N with a beaming smile.

“He said he was hungry,” Y/N said as Emmett raised his head and their eyes met again. “They hadn’t eaten since lunch at day camp, and we didn’t know if you’d have anything with you when you got here. And I didn’t want Henry to play on an empty stomach, either.”

Emmett nodded his head once.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Emmett, the food at the snack bar costs, like, fifty cents an item. It’s not a big deal, and I’m happy to do it. He was hungry, so I got him something.”

“I would have gotten him something when I got here,” Emmett said, despite the fact that he had no cash on him.

“Well, now it’s already taken care of,” she replied.

Before he could argue any further, Y/N looked down at Max and spoke again.

“Thank you for the invitation, sweetheart, but I’m gonna sit closer to the players’ benches in case they need me. But I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Ok,” Max nodded, refocusing on his hot dog as he took another bite.

“See ya’,” she then said to Emmett as she looked at him again. Then she turned and headed off in the opposite direction towards the players’ benches.

All throughout the game, Emmett continually glanced over at Y/N, the skirt of her sundress occasionally flapping in the breeze as she watched the game and chatted with a few of the parents sitting next to her. He gradually became irritated as time went by. She had been so take-charge in getting the boys a snack and so adamant when she’d declined him paying her back. It was almost as if she expected that he wouldn’t have anything with him for them to eat, and that she assumed he’d be too forgetful and careless to have cash on him to get them anything.

She didn’t know how busy his schedule was right now; she didn’t know how hard he tried to keep everything running smoothly for the boys. She probably thought he was a bad father.

As the game ended and everyone made their way towards the parking lot, Emmett let Max run ahead with Henry. He then climbed down the bleachers and walked over to where Y/N was zipping up the backpack of first aid supplies she’d brought with her. She didn’t notice him approaching, and he spoke up when he stopped next to her.

“Hey, I’m going to pay you back for the food you got the boys.”

Still bent over and adjusting the backpack, she turned her head and looked at him for a moment before frowning briefly. He was still harping on that?

“I told you,” she said as she stood up straight, “that’s not necessary. I’m happy to do it.”

“I don’t like to owe anybody anything,” he replied. “I’ll pay you back.”

“It was a soda and a couple of hot dogs,” Y/N retorted, shaking her head. “Not prime rib.”

There was a brief pause, and then Emmett spoke again.

“Is this because I woke you up the other morning?” he asked.

“What?” she responded in total confusion.

“Is this how you’re getting back at me? Trying to show me up in front of my boys?”

“Show you up?!” she replied, her expression incredulous. “You think I’m showing you up and getting revenge with a cup of flat cola and concession stand hot dogs?”

Emmett crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“So, why’d you do it, then?” he asked defensively.

Why was he getting so bent out of shape over this? she wondered.

Y/N gripped the backpack, lifting it from the bench and slinging it over her shoulder before she answered him.

“Because despite the fact that I can barely tolerate you, I happen to adore those boys.”

Emmett cocked his head at her.

“You’re no picnic either, princess.”

She glared at him.

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Then they each turned and walked off in opposite directions.

Part 3

@nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @xsweetcatastrophe @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @hannibellector @devotedlyshadowytheorist @aphroditeslover11 @natalie--rushman @garrison-girl-08 @fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog

#emmett x female reader #emmet a quiet place x reader #emmett a quiet place #emmett fic #emmett smut #emmett a quiet place 2 #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian smut #18+ only

[reasonsforhope]

Upcoming Blog Thing

So I'm currently in the process of making a sideblog-for-a-sideblog for Reasons for Hope.

The idea is to use it to post mostly links/info on direct action (how to's, petitions, official government calls for comment on proposed policies, protests, info about cool things other activists are doing, etc. etc.) that doesn't fit on a good news blog. Plus informational/awareness posts, and my own activism and thoughts and takes about things that sometimes really, really do not belong on a good news blog. Or that half belong on a good news blog and half really don't, and the like.

The idea is also to create an official "format" for submissions so that people can send in posts without me having to take the time/spoons to make new posts out of ppl's asks and dms (this takes sooo much time sometimes). Then, if successful, do a similar thing for submissions on Reasons for Hope, bc I do want to make posts about lots of things ppl send me, but it would be way too much to do myself all the time.

I'd still be verifying everything and applying editorial standards, in both cases. I actually already wrote up most of an editorial standards policy for the new sideblog, too. It would include verifying and listing the sources and dates for everything, at a minimum.

I've been thinking about going ahead and doing this for quite a while now, but I finally decided I needed to go for it because uh. I just found out about something absolutely, completely fucked up that happened to my grandparents (and a lot of other people). And while I am planning to get involved in organizing about it in real life around the relevant issues (or at least flyer the shit out of relevant neighborhoods), I really need to be able to use what platform I have to talk about this - along with other issues - so I have somewhere to channel my rage and grief into activism

(You will hear more about what happened when the sideblog goes up, if you want to see know. For now, let's just say that it's been a really intense 48 hours.)

Also you know I actually have a small-to-moderate platform here and that's a hell of a lot more ability to reach people than I tend to have in person, esp with ~life~ and ~working~ and my disability shit

So yeah, heads up you have that to look forward to (if you want to engage). And there will be unique tags to filter for people who want to see the links to actions and organizing info without seeing the info about fucked up stuff.

Because I am firmly of the opinion that people can and should be able to engage with that kind of content only where and when they feel up for it, if they want, and especially if they're really struggling with spiraling over the state of things.

Anyway, let me know in the notes if there's anything you would particularly like to see from the upcoming sideblog. (I make no promises but would value information on this!) And if you have any thoughts on what I should call it because I haven't been able to figure out something satisfying yet.

#not news #me #direct action #activism

[forever-rogue]

Hey can you maybe write a fic about Eddie helping his gf through getting her period really bad at school love ur writing x

AN | Eddie Spaghetti, the best and softest boyfriend. We all deserve an Eddie 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language, Period talk

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You wished you could have stayed home. Realistically it probably would have been the best idea, but you also knew that your mother would never allow you to skip school for something so menial such as your period. Even though it was a well known fact that your periods could be brutal sometimes, making it almost impossible to think or focus on anything but your cramps. But you were tough, Eddie always reminded you of that, so you were going to suck it up and deal with it. 

But honestly? It fucking sucked.

It was barely halfway through your second class of the day and you were already suffering. It was going to be a long day…at least you were able to look forward to the evening with your wonderful boyfriend. If you made it that far anyway. Dramatic? Yes. Justified? Also yes. 

At least you had enough foresight to keep a bottle of painkillers in your locker. Maybe that would help a little bit - worth a try anyway. You excused yourself so you could go to the restroom, grabbed your bag so not everyone had to see what you were doing, and stopped by your locker first. 

When you closed your locker again, a small yelp escaped your lips. There was none other than Eddie, standing there with a big smile on his face, “fucking hell, Eddie!” 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he pressed a playful kiss to your cheek, “thought you heard me coming.”

“You’re silent like some kind of weird ninja,” you waved your hand around to which he only grinned, “or I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Wait - what are you doing out of class?”

“Doesn’t matter - penny for your thoughts?”

“Eddie.”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, clutching at his heart as you just snorted at him, “I saw you leave class and followed after you. Had to make sure my best girl was okay.”

“‘m fine,” you murmured, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. You didn’t need him to worry about you on top of everything else, “you can go back to class, Eddie. I was just running to the bathroom.”

“When did you decide to start lying to me?” he raised an eyebrow curiously, your face flushing with warmth when you realized how easily he could read you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he put a finger on your lips to keep you from speaking, tutting gently, “honesty is the best policy, my love.”

“Eddie,” his name came out as a smushed murmur as he shook his head, “‘n not lying.”

“Wait,” his brows furrowed for a moment, pretty chocolate brown eyes studying you intently. You wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him, but his finger was still squished against your lips. It didn’t stop you from pressing a kiss to it, “I know what’s going on! It’s your least favorite time of the month, aka you’ve gotten your period.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face as you looked at him incredulously. Your heart melted as you looked at your metalhead in surprise, “h-how do you know that?”

“I…how wouldn’t I?” he looked at you in confusion as though it should have been obvious that he possessed this piece of knowledge, “you get it every month, it’s pretty much like clockwork for you….it’s not that hard to keep track. ‘specially after that one time when the condom broke and -”

“Eddie!” you hissed softly, looking around to make sure no one had been listening in. Luckily, it appeared to be just the two in the quiet, abandoned hall, “don’t worry, I remember that too. But, you…you keep track of it?”

“‘course,” his smile was always so magical - all toothy and sweet, showing off his dimple, “how else am I going to know when you’re suffering? I have to make sure so I can take care of you.” 

Oh. Yeah, you were a sucker for this man, pure and simple. Your eyes prickled with tears, causing you to blink rapidly in order to try and keep them at bay. Eddie reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you,” he kissed your forehead before reaching for your backpack, “now let’s get out of here so you can rest.”

“Cut class?”

“Well yeah,” he answered as though it was the most obvious thing, “I know how bad your cramps can get and I think it’s better for you to rest than try and suffer through the rest of the day. Besides, these are doctor’s orders.”

“Oh? And just what doctor happened to make these orders?”

“Doctor Best Boyfriend Ever,” he cheesed, you giggled. You were madly in love with him, “now c’mon, let’s get out of here and let me take care of you.”

“Well, I have to listen to the doctor,” you nodded, leaning over on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. You grabbed onto him, gently holding it as you looked at him with the softest eyes, "thank you, Eddie."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he promised softly, "I would do anything for you."

"Can we stop and get some chocolate on the way home?" your voice almost dropped to a whisper as you looked at him with bright, shy eyes, "and maybe pizza?"

"Of course, princess," he swung your backpack over his shoulder, "now let's get outta here before we get caught!"

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Less than hour later you were padding after Eddie into his trailer, arms empty as he struggled to balance everything. You’d offered to help but he wasn’t having it for a moment; you were going to relax and rest and he would take care of everything else. He’d decided that you were going to spend the day at his, opting not to take the chance and going to your house in case one of your parents came home early. As good as they were, they wouldn’t understand you needing to leave school early.

“Home sweet home,” he beamed, setting your backpack down and pizza on the counter…along with the bag of sweets you’d collected at the store. You’d fully intended on buying the things you wanted and the supplies you needed, but Eddie had beaten you to it and taken everything to the register and paid for it himself. As if he could get more amazing. 

“I love it here,” you sighed softly as you walked over to the couch and almost collapsed on it, reaching for one of the soft and well-loved blankets, “it always feels like home here, ‘cause of you.”

“I love it when you’re here,” his heart constricted in his chest and he thought he might die from the sheer amount of affection and love he held for you, “how’re you feeling?”

“Okay,” the painkillers were slowly wearing off and you felt the onslaught of cramps starting to come back, “tired, getting crampy. Hey, my love, you’ll tell me if I’m being too annoying, right?”

“If that ever happened, you know I would,” you heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, “but that is impossible, so you never have to worry.”

You laughed at his silliness, and it was only a few seconds before he came over to you and kneeled at your side. Unable to stop yourself, you reached over and brushed his curls out of his face, “hi handsome.”

“Hi beautiful,” he held up the heating pad before reaching under the blanket and placing it on your tummy, “I know you like the heating pad for cramps, so I got one to keep here.”

“Oh Eddie,” before he could turn to plug it in, you tenderly grabbed his face and pressed a kiss to his lips, “you are so wonderful.”

“I’m just…trying to help,” his entire face turned pink at your praise as he made quick work of plugging it in. He handed you a bottle of water, a few more painkillers, and a candy bar, “and I hope this is helping.”

“It is,” you really couldn’t have asked for anything or anyone better, “Eddie? Can I ask you for one more favor?”

“Of course,” he touched your face so gently that it made you want to melt into him, “anything, princess.”

“Will you cuddle me?” your soft lips pulled into a pout, causing Eddie to chuckle. As if that was really a question - the man would cuddle you no matter what, “you don’t have to, if you don’t wanna. I feel all icky and gross, but -”

“You are perfect,” he insisted firmly, leaving you no choice but to accept what he was saying, “and you are not icky or gross or anything like that. I will gladly cuddle with you, sweetheart.”

“But if I get blood-”

“You won’t,” he stood up to kick his shoes off, and discard his jacket, “and even if you did, so what? It’s just blood, it’s all natural, what your body is going through is normal. It sucks and I wish I could make it so I was the one dealing with it, but it’s okay.”

“Okay,” you sat up and scooted over so he could lie down. He slowly did so, and pulled you on top of him, settling you between his legs so you could rest your head on his chest. He made sure the heating pad was right on top of you to help as much as it could, “you’re so warm, like my own personal heater. And you’re so comfy.”

“Ahhh,” he groaned playfully, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I knew you only wanted me for my body.”

“I’m a woman of taste,” reaching for his hand, you threaded your fingers through his and rested them on your tummy, “what can I say? You’re the total package - handsome, smart, funny, and multi-talented? What more could I want?”

“Silly girl,” there was nothing but gentle affection and fond teasing behind his words, “what more could I want? Nothing, that’s what.”

“Hmm,” sleep was quickly making your eyes heavy and you felt yourself falling under the siren call of slumber, “me neither. ‘m gonna marry you someday, Eddie Munson. You’re not just boyfriend material, you’re husband material.”

“Funny,” and oh. How his heart was beating wildly in his chest, surely threatening to break through his ribcage, “I was just thinking the same thing about you. Gonna marry you, princess, but I’m gonna do it right.” 

“Whatever you do will be perfect,” you murmured already half asleep, “because it’s you.”

“Oh honey, honey,” he sighed wistfully, “I love you, but I think right now you need to rest and later we watch a movie and eat lots of snacks, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, “love you so much, my Eddie Spaghetti.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #this one is for me today lol

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello! Is it necessary to build an online following or beta readers before going forward and trying to query for an agent or publish?

Online Following, Beta Readers, and Querying

No, it's not necessary to build an online following or beta readers before querying for an agent or publisher. Having said that...

Online Following - It can be useful to start growing your platform now because it takes a long time to build the habit, get to know a platform, and amass followers and a pool of potential beta readers. And, while having an online following is unlikely to tip the scales in your favor--it's more important that your story is good, on trend, and likely to sell well--it can't hurt to show that you're willing and able to cultivate a following through an online presence. So, yeah, bottom line really is it can't hurt but is by no means a general requirement.

Beta Readers - This isn't something you "build," necessarily, like you would a platform. Beta readers are just people who read a non-final draft of your story in order to give you an early "general reader perspective" of what's working and what isn't before you do your final revision/edits. Beta readers can be paid or volunteer, people you know (such as reader/writer friends) or people you find in a writing community, a beta reader service, or on a site like Fiverr. While you may amass a few loyal beta readers who always beta your stories, most writers will have to look for a new group of betas for each story. Since the use of beta readers is not a general requirement of any form of publishing, agents and publishers don't really care whether or not you have beta readers or used any.

Happy querying!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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