#they want to leave the world better than it was for them.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #my writing #mama riley au #i had a lot fun writing this and im blown away by all the positive feedback!! you guys are so nice ❤ #there will probably be more little drabbles about this later but for now this is it! thanks for following along! #now im going to go play the sims 4 and listen to mother mother. love ya! 😚

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

#challengers #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #challengers fic #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x patrick zweig #challengers x reader #challengers x you #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig #tashi duncan #charly writes!!

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Show And Tell- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: When matt takes your virginity and shows you how to make yourself feel better about not being so experienced in the sex world

Warnings: Smut, Inexperienced!sub!reader, Experienced!Dom!Matt, praising, cursing, use of Y/N, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex (Safe sex is great sex, cause you don’t want that late text that I think I'm late text- Lil Wayne), TW! brief talk of emotionally absent parents!

A/N: i absolutely love writing sweet Matt, but what i love writing more is MATT THE MF MUNCHHHH!!

psa: DONT STEAL MY WORK!! THIS BELONGS TO ME MYSELF AND I!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ever since Middle school Nick, Matt, Chris, and I have been inevitable. Their mother, Mary Lou, has always taken me in as her own, considering I was the youngest out of 5 in my family, and my parents had me later in life, as soon as I learned how to care for myself, they quit raising me and only came through in times they ‘needed’ to be parents. Mary Lou was the woman I called my mother. whenever they went on a family vacation I always went with them. To the mall? I went. She basically had Quadruplets. When the triplets moved to LA, we were all over 18, and I was more than ready to leave my parent's house even though I had pretty much moved in with them for how much I stayed over, so I moved with them. I offered to get an apartment close by, but all of them collectively agreed and even argued with me about it, so now we all live in the same house.

Today was pretty much a normal day in the house, very calm, no one was filming, and we just did our own things. Matt and I had no plans, Chris went out shopping with some friends, and Nick had meetings and then dinner plans with Tara for a collab idea which left Matt and I at the house.

“Cant believe that you and my mother BOTH collectively agreed to let me walk out of the house looking like that” Matt said laughing showing me a memory that popped up on his moms Facebook page.

“To be fair you were dead set on wearing that entire outfit and your mom and I both knew we couldn't talk you out of that” I said laughing back and throwing my hands up in defense.

“That's when I dated Cassie too, how gross,” he said giving himself the Ick.

“She was the town whore, what'd you expect,” I say giggling at my comment.

“You know I never asked, whatever happened to Jackson? I just recalled he spread some rumor about him taking your virginity, and a bunch of other stuff, and you came to the house crying and Mom was comforting you and you never spoke about that again” he looks over at me as my head hung low looking at my hands.

Jackson was a guy I ‘dated’ junior year of high school, he took me on one date, it was very nice and he seemed amazing, though I should've listened to Nick when he told me Jackson was no good. After our date instead of taking me home he insisted on talking more and drove to the park in the middle of the city. His intentions were not pure. Jackson tried every which way to get me in the backseat, I rejected many many times that night and made some excuse on how I was on my period and that immediately grossed him out. Come to find out, as soon as we got back to school he spread a rumor around the entire school that he had taken my virginity and told the school I was into weird kinks. I knew I couldn't go to my mother about that because she would have taken me directly to the health clinic to ‘check if I was still pure’ so I went to Mary Lou, i and made sure to tell her to tell the boys not to bring it up to me and try their best to shut it down.

“I uh thought i told you about what happened?” i lied and nervously laughed.

“Nope,” he said popping the ‘p’ “I'm pretty sure I would have remembered something that important to where my own mother had to come to me, Nick, and Chris, and tell us not to talk to you about it, plus I mean it's been 4 years if you don't wanna talk about it I understand,” he said reassuring me.

I've always felt comfortable with all 3 of them, and always had a special relationship with all of them, and trust them with my life. I never went to them about this because I was embarrassed I was a virgin, I wasn't gonna tell them I didn't lose my virginity, considering both Matt and Chris came to me about sex advice I didn't want them to look at me any different for not being experienced enough so I lied and told them that Jackson did take my virginity but I wasn't into the weirder stuff Jackson accused me of.

“Fuck” I mutter under my breath. “Okay so, I just wanna say one thing before I tell you what actually happened between Jackson and me” I look back at him with nerve piercing through my body.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything” Matt adjusts himself to face me.

“So don't judge me,” I start taking a deep breath. “So Jackson made up that entire rumor,” I take my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I’m extremely confused” he scratched the back of his head laughing.

“God this is embarrassing” I place my head in my hands “fuck it, so he didn't take my virginity at all, and obviously the kink thing was a lie” I look up at him who still has a puzzled look on his face.

“So if Jackson didn't take your virginity then who did? Cause you basically swore off dating after him” he raises his eye brows in confusion.

“No one, Matt, I'm a uh Virgin” I drop my head down in embarrassment fiddling with my fingers.

“No fucking way, you gave both Chris and me AMAZING sex advice, stop fucking with me Y/N/N” he said laughing.

“Matt I'm being for real,” I shoot him an awkward smile “and please the sex advice ain't nothing, I know what I would like so I kinda made an assumption and by the looks of it, I'm guessing it worked” I nervously laughed.

“Holy shit,” his eyes go wide “why haven't you, you know?”

“It's hard for me to trust people, especially with something like that,” I shrugged my shoulders “When I hit puberty, my mother gave me a ‘save yourself till marriage’ talk instead of informing me of my body she scared me from sex, but I had gone to your mom one day when you three were hanging with Nate and she actually gave me that kinda talk and more or less told me to always make sure I felt safe and in the hands of someone I trust, and Jackson did neither of those things” I continue to fiddle with my fingers.

“You trust me right?” he says curiously

“Matt don't be stupid, yes I do” I lightly giggle. “Why is that even a question?”

“ah fuck it, never mind” he brushes it off.

“No, no, I told you something that no one knows so come on speak up,” I lightly push his arm.

“I was gonna say I could teach you a couple things about sex but i ain't too sure you'd be down for that anyway” he shrugged his shoulders turning his body back towards the TV.

“What if I was down?” I look at him through my lashes.

His head jerks in my direction, “actually?” his eyes light up.

“Matt do you know how embarrassing it is to be an almost 21-year-old who's never had sex,” a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“Have you ever like, touched yourself before?” he said slightly cringing at his words.

I was a little taken aback by his curiosity “I mean yeah, once or twice” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Did you like ever finish from that?” he shifts his body back in my direction. “I know this sounds a bit invasive but I promise if you want to do this I have a reason for asking these questions” he placed his hand on my knee.

“No… it just um” I swallow the lump in my throat “I just couldn't..”

“So you've never experienced anything sexual?” the curiosity in his voice makes me feel safer and know he's not judging me and is actually caring enough to ask and not just crawling on top of me and getting down to it.

“Nope,” I say softly

He slowly nods “Do you want to learn?” his voice goes soft.

“H-how?” I stutter out.

“Obviously if you feel comfortable enough with it, I could be the one to show you, If you catch my drift” he sends me a reassuring smile.

“Y-you would take my virginity?” I ask nervously.

“Only if you want me to” his voice trails off

“What about Nick and Chris? God that would be awkward if they walked in or something, oh my god I don't want them to think any-” he cuts me off

“Woah slow down, it's okay, they won't be back till like 9, and it's 4 now, we'll be okay kid” he laughed rubbing soft circles with his thumb over my knee. “Do you want to do this?”

I nod softly. “No this is important to you, I want your verbal consent that this is okay” he moves closer to me.

“Yes, please, I want this, all of this,” I say softly adjusting my body closer to his.

He smiles leaning closer to my face and softly pressing his lips against mine. My eyes fall shut and I turn into jello as I feel the way his hand that was once on my knee moves up toward my hip. A small smile creeps upon both of our lips. I softly pull away.

“Can we not do this on the couch?” I say laughing a little

“Absolutely,” he stands up almost immediately and picks me up bridal style walking into his room and kicking the door open as I giggle like a kid in a candy store.

He carefully sets me down on his blue silk sheets crawls on top of me and presses his lips onto mine once again making a soft groan travel between our lips.

“Can I take this off?” he says softly playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Yes” I bite my bottom lip

He smiles down at me and pulls my shirt off leaving me in my bra. He hooks his finger under my bra strap rubbing his finger up and down just looking down at me. “You're so beautiful. I don't ever tell you much” his comment makes a soft pink shade appear on my cheeks.

He leans down again kissing me and pointing his tongue out for permission to enter, my mouth opens slightly as his tongue explores my mouth, and this time his hands start to grab at my covered breast. “You can take it off, Matt” I giggle between kisses.

He gave me no response but his left hand held my lower back and his right unclasped my bra letting it fall right off my shoulders. He pulled away from kissing me and looked down at my breast in awe. “God you're Fucking beautiful” he mutters.

His mouth begins leaving kisses down from my jawline to my collarbone and stopping at my breast looking up at me through his lashes almost asking for permission without asking. I shoot him a smile and nod and his tongue licks softly across my nipple sending shivers down my spine. He smirks to himself attaching his mouth to one of my nipples and slightly tugging at my other. He sucks and nips at my nipples taking them between his teeth every now and again. My breathing gets heavier at the sensitivity and my head falls back as a soft whimper falls from my mouth.

He lifts his head up and places himself between my legs to unbuckle my shorts, shimmy them down my legs, and throws them with the pile of clothes next to the bed. He admires my choice of underwear today, smirking as they're unironically his favorite color, purple, with a tiny little bow right up top. He hooks his finger at the top of them sliding back and forth before sliding them down my legs leaving me bare beneath him.

“such a pretty fucking pussy” he groans out. he leans his head down and spits down onto my aching pussy. using his thumb he slowly moves up and down.

“Holy fuck” I gasp out.

Matt chuckles and moves his body down where his head is now between my legs. His thumb is still slowly going up and down he begins kissing down my thighs on both sides. “I want you” he places another kiss on my thigh “to tell me” Another kiss “What feels good to you alright?” he places a kiss right above my clit.

“O-okay” I say nervously

“And please don't be afraid to tell me to stop” he gives me a reassuring smile.

I nod sending him the same warm smile. He starts to place a soft kiss on my clit before flattening his tongue on my pussy and licking a stripe up and groaning once the taste of me hits his tongue.

“Oh, Matt” My breathing hitches and I throw my head back in pleasure.

His tongue begins to flick up at a faster pace making moans spill out of my mouth, his eyes are fixated on me and how my body reacts to his mouth pleasuring me.

“Fuck you're so fucking good at this” My fingers run through his hair forcing his head deeper into me.

He moans into me sending vibrations through my body as my hips jerk up and my eyes roll back. His lips attach to my clit sucking on it a little causing a squeal to fall from my mouth.

“Fuck i-i I think I'm gonna cum” I stutter out as an unfamiliar knot forms in the pit of my stomach

“Mhm” he mutters before lifting his head “Let it go sweet girl” he lowers his head again taking my clit between his teeth and flicking upwards on it.

“Oh my FUCK” I scream out when that knot snapped a wave of euphoria pierced my body and my orgasm dripped out of me making Matt move his body to watch it happen.

He wiped his mouth using his arm smiling “you okay baby?” he chuckled.

“Fuck” I breathe out “If that's why people are sex addicts I see why god damn that was amazing” I smiled up at him.

“I'm not even done yet” he smirks lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it across the room.

“Are you 100% positive you want this?” he asks as he stands up removing his belt.

“This is the first decision I've ever made that I'm 100% positive I won't regret,” I say as I watch him remove his pants and free his cock with his tip red and throbbing for attention.

He climbs back and moves me farther up on the bed. “Fuck there's no way that's gonna fit in me, that's fucking massive,” I say as my eyes stare at his cock.

“It'll fit baby” he chuckles “shit I don't have a condom,” he says rummaging through his bedside table.

“I'm on birth control, you don't need one” I smile up at him.

“Are you sure?” he smirks.

“Yes Matt,” I smile batting my lashes up at him.

“Okay then” he brings his hand up to his mouth and spits in it before gliding his now wet hand to coat his aching cock. “I gonna go slow, inch by inch and you tell me when to move, and tell me if it hurts too much I'll stop immediately,” he says aligning his cock with my entrance.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

As his tip slowly enters me I hiss. “Are you okay?” he says with a concerned look on his face.

“I'm okay just hurts” I reply biting my lower lip.

He slowly enters another couple of inches. Watching how my face nuzzled up at the new feeling. Then he slides in another few inches. After a couple of minutes, he's fully bottomed out. “Look at that, you're doing so fucking amazing,” he says adjusting himself closer to my face and brushing loose strands out of my face.

“Y-you can move,” I say nodding slowly.

He smiles before slowly thrusting out and moving towards my hips as the pain I once felt turns into pleasure in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, matt fuck faster please” I plead gripping his biceps for support.

“God you're so fucking tight” his pace speeds up as he lowers his body and begins kissing my neck and groaning into me.

“S-so fucking big” I moan out.

He rolls his hips towards mine and slams them into me. His grunts become harsher. “Fuck” he growled in my ear. “I love the way you feel wrapped around me” he moans in my ear which is almost a whimper.

“Matt” I scream out as his cock finally and repeatedly kisses my G-spot.

“Someone close eh?” he lifts up sadistically grinning at me.

I nod vigorously as my legs begin twitching and shaking around his waist and that knot forms in my stomach for the second time tonight.

“Cum all over my fucking dick baby, I know you can do it,” he said as his thrusts become sloppy.

With just his words that knot snapped in my stomach and formed a white ring around the base of his cock as my cum coats his cock. With a couple more thrusts he nuzzles his head in my neck and paints my walls a shade of white. He slowly pulls out careful not to hurt me.

“Fuck you're amazing” I breath out coming down from my euphoric state.

“Yeah? You did fucking amazing,” he smiles down at me laying next to me and pulling me into a cuddled skin-to-skin hug.

“Thank you matt” I mutter into his chest.

“No problem sweetheart” he kissed the top of my head. “You know I'd do anything for you” he softly whispers making me smile and nuzzle into him more.

“Do you want me to run you a nice bath? Or you wanna go get food? What do you wanna do, cause we got about 2 hours till Nick and Chris come home” he pulls away looking at me.

“We can shower and I can cook for us” I smile at him.

“Perfect” he smiles at me and picks me up bridal style again to carry me to the bathroom.

The way he cared for me, I knew I made the right decision. Losing my virginity to the man I knew I could trust.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: TY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS!! BECAUSE THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE!! anyways i hope you guys are having an amazing evening, afternoon, morning, or night!! and i love you guys!! 🩷🩷

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing

[janaispunk]

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you. 

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him. 

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it. 

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back. 

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in. 

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly. 

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down. 

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice. 

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play. 

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last. 

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before. 

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV. 

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face. 

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel. 

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest. 

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside. 

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it. 

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second. 

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager. 

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore. 

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?” 

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body. 

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like. 

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago. 

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs. 

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips. 

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features. 

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat. 

“Yeah no, I– just a second.” 

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright. 

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what. 

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of. 

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip. 

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal. 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed. 

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you. 

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books. 

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to. 

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves. 

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedrostories #janas fics #fic: safe and sound

[ynsbarbbb]

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

#x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lewis hamilton x reader #angst

[coolestzed]

Alright, I’ve been holding this inside for years but I’m finally gonna say it.

Misako haters are actually fucking annoying at this point.

They always were to me, but now, they’re just OBJECTIVELY an annoyance. And they need to STOP.

They take literally ANY chance to slander her, even when it’s completely unwarranted. Like, I’d just look at a picture of her on Pinterest, and there’d be multiple comments going "the world’s worst mother". Or I’d see content about Koko and there’d always be comments comparing her and Misako and going like "Koko way better fuck Misako".

I’d even see a fucking meme and people would slander Misako. Like they couldn’t resist.

And that’s not even mentioning his people constantly make her seem way worse than she actually is. Im not gonna quote everything, but basically they act like she never does good things for Lloyd. That she doesn’t care about him at all! And it’s just- so WILDY out of character!! And it’s the same vice versa! I saw a funny Ninjago video the other day with a "your mom" joke and someone in the comments was like "jokes on you, Lloyd would never call Misako mom". I’m just?????? Yes he DOES????? ALL THE TIME???

People just act like their relationship is nonexistent! Like they don’t care about each other, or that Misako doesn’t care about Lloyd! Which is OBVIOUSLY not true!

People claim that she disappears every other season but the only seasons she was absent in are 12 and 13. Also, she has a job. She goes on expeditions. Obviously she’s not there 100% of the time. And she and Lloyd clearly spend time together off screen.

People don’t even acknowledge the reason why she left in the first place. They act like she dropped him off at a boarding school and dipped to take a vaycay. She was literally trying to stop her husband and son from having to fight to the death. You ever think about that? You ever think about how SHE felt in the situation? With her husband being consumed by evil and later being banished, and learning that he and their son would have to fight each other? She was HORRIFIED and GRIEVING! Ultimately she did it to save her family. It doesn’t make leaving Lloyd right but it’s understandable.

But apparently not to almost all of the fandom.

Most of y’all, completely ignore that, and everything else that came after season 2.

Misako constantly being worried about Lloyd in Tournament of Elements and Possession.

Both of them spending Day of the Departed together.

Her getting/building the Destiny’s Shadow as a birthday gift for Lloyd.

How she supported, fought beside, and risked her life for Lloyd in Hunted.

How she wanted to stay and fight with him during MoTO but only went inside because Lloyd urged her to protect the civilians.

Not to mention just their general interactions. THEY’RE ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE EACH OTHER!!! Do you know how many times they hug?!

And this dialogue here:

"Aren’t you going to kiss your mother goodbye?"

"Mooom, we've-we've talked about this-"

WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!

Lloyd and Misako have a good, healthy and loving relationship. Misako has long since made up for her mistake and they’ve moved on.

Yet THE FANDOM REFUSES TO!!!

EVERYONE, TO THIS DAY, STILL TREATS HER LIKE THE FUCKING DEVIL!!!

I CAN’T EVEN COUNT THE NUMBER OF TIMES PEOPLE HAVE HAD OVERDRAMATIC TANTRUMS FROM HER JUST EXISTING.

IT MAKES ME SO UNREASONABLY ANGRY.

AND THE FACT THAT I’VE SOMEHOW BEEN SEEING EVEN MORE MISAKO HATE DURING AND AFTER MOTHERS DAY IS ACTUALLY APPALLING.

NOT EVEN FUCKING ENDEAVOR FROM MHA GETS THIS MUCH HATE AND HE’S DONE MUCH WORSE TO HIS FAMILY.

IT. HAS. BEEN. OVER. 16. SEASONS. AND. A. MOVIE.

GET. OVER. IT.

*deep breath*

Look, she’s not perfect. Obviously. She fucked up. But who in this series hasn’t? She came back, and she’s made sure to be a better mother to Lloyd. He forgave her, and they have a good relationship now. They’re close.

She wouldn’t be as hated if the writers didn’t do her dirty. Her introduction wasn’t handled the best, and having her and Lloyd have a more in depth discussion would’ve made the reunion and forgiveness feel less rushed and forced. That love triangle with Wu and Garmadon certainly didn’t do her any favors either. 😑

Regardless, her character’s gotten better over the seasons. Again, she and Lloyd and close and have a good relationship.

But hardly anyone acknowledges that, almost everyone in the fandom hyper fixates on that one mistake from years ago. They don’t pay attention to anything else. Like how she’s a better mother, or how she’s just a generally good person.

You aren’t supposed to judge characters or irl people solely on their past mistakes. Especially when they’ve already made up for them. Thats why the "Misako’s a horrible mother" statement is always bullshit to me.

Seriously, Misako’s been a part of Lloyd’s life longer than she’s been absent from it at this point.

The amount of passionate, unforgiving hate she gets is so undeserved and over the top. Too many people are projecting their own issues onto her. Or just being plain hateful. It’s not fair to define her entire character on a single mistake that she’s long made up for.

And it’s definitely not fair to people that actually like Misako. Often times on the few positive posts about her, there’d be Misako haters in the notes or reblogs complaining about her or insulting her, or just stating they hate her but love the content. And that is completely uncool and rude. It’s so unnecessary. You don’t do that, that’s so shitty. The again Misako haters have a habit of spouting unnecessary hate. Like it’s a terminal condition they have.

So, please, for the love of god, COOL IT. Stop and think, try to ACTUALLY look at her character without the veil of blind hatred.

If you still dislike or hate her, fine! But if you’re gonna detest her, at least hate her as she is and don’t make her worse than she actually is to justify hating her more.

And PLEASE stop bashing her at every turn, it’s annoying, upsetting, unwarranted, unnecessary, and just not good.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#ninjago #ninjago misako #misako garmadon #rant post #I may revive backlash for this #I don’t care #I’m so fucking done with this fandom #the hate is actually so ridiculous #y’all can live without constantly putting down a misunderstood character #Misako Defender For Life

[a66-1]

starving

part 1 | part 2 [you're here!]

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

finally got the idea for part 2. excited?

me too

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen.

semi proofread bc who cares

The next morning was exhausting as the last.

You got up early to go running. If you ever have the chance, you run until the sun comes up. You need to stay fit if you want a boyfriend. It was easier when you were on your meds. Almost like you had the will to live those mornings.

You were back at the house around 8 am. You weren't scheduled for work today so... You headed back to bed and really, just slept the day away

You woke up around 5 pm. 5, really? God, you are just some depressed child.

You got out of bed for the second time, and changed into a dress. It was hard seeing yourself in a dress after 2 years. You stopped going out because alcoholism and anti-depressants aren't really two peas in a pod, are they?

Well this is why you quit. You dropped your therapist and your meds because you were better, and your mom stopped helping with the payments, and now you can go back to partying.

Minus the heavy drinking.

Hopefully.

You tear your eyes off yourself. If you stare too long, you'll end up convincing yourself to stay in bed longer. You configure the rest of your outfit, and grab a small black purse. Throwing your phone in it, you leave the house quicky. If you don't, you might properly convince yourself you're just as ugly as you thought..

The drive to the bar was silent, save from the honking cars around you. Fuck, what if this is the wrong idea? I mean the looks everyone will give you, you look so bad and so ugly and god this was such a bad--

You hear a car honk behind you. The light turned green. You lower your head, sighing, and taking a left.

Once at the bar, you slip into one of the seats nearer the back, feeling uncomfortable in the seat. Adjusting your dress down, you cringe while looking around the bar. There's so many pretty women here, and comparatively you are way under them.

You order a drink, sipping on the alcohol for the first time in months. Fuck, your therapist would be losing it if she knew you not only stopped meds but started drinking again...

You rested your head in your palm, watching others interact. Pretty women just have a way with men, a way you've never had. The buzz of the alcohol was enough to make you not question why nobody has interacted with you, other than the bartender. People probably think your such a loser, I mean, who would just sit here and drink--

"Hey. You're, uh.. That girl from yesterday right?" A gruff voice appears behind you. You flinch forward, whipping your head around.

Oh. This guy.

You slowly put your drink down, your palm over the top of it.

"And who are you?" You ask, eyeing the man. He didn't have his mask on. He was... Really cute.

"A customer." He sat next to me, his eyes trained on mine. I felt sort of flushed under his gaze.

Fuckin' small world.

You spent some of the night talking with him. Still don't know his name, or why you ran into him here, but you don't care nonetheless.

You were looking for sex this night but... Is a connection so bad?

Like you could make a connection with someone who is out of your league.

thank god i finished this. 3 drafts later, and im sorry its kinda short. trust part 3 is gonna have the good stuff, this is kinda a filler so it can get to the good stuff.

ily babes...

-a661

taglist:

@i-am-hungry-24-7 @arminarlertssword @haven-1307

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost fluff

[egberts]

this is gonna make no sense but i hope someone can at least sympathize with my view here. i flat out dont interact with art on this site (or twitter) unless its made by a friend/mutual because ppl have so many rules about who is allowed to interact with them and how theyre allowed to interact with them that i know im gonna do smth wrong and upset someone so i just dont interact. it isnt worth it. the original poster can see your tags now so leaving tags is the scariest thing in the world to me now even on normal text posts because i know im going to say the wrong thing and get blocked or have my tags screenshotted

i can tell you're working with a lot of fear of being perceived, and it's okay to be an anonymous lurker online but if you're finding yourself feeling like you GENUINELY want to interact with somebody else's art/post/writing or whatever but fear of their reaction is the only thing stopping you then unironically my best advice for you is: DO IT SCARED. chances are, it'll go better than you're worried about and if it doesn't then the block button is right there for the both of you. if they block you don't take it personally, just move on. trust me on this one, a lot of random people have me blocked and it is never worth dwelling on for more than a "hey what the fuck." moment. I promise the opinions of random anonymous strangers mean less in your real life than you're worried about. genuinely look up from your screen right now, at your surroundings, and tell me, looking at the tangible things in your life that are there with you wherever you are, is it going to be THAT big of a deal if you accidentally piss off an internet stranger? absolutely not.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5EyqjvSs_h/?igsh=MTV5dmt0OWUyYmVneg==

(I'm sending this to all ghost writers I can find because I want everybody to see this)

Bestie. You have no idea what you just started.

THIS is my favorite thing ever now.

I couldn't resist writing something!!

Just imagine attending a ball, and this mysterious man shows up with that skull mask?? It's giving phantom of the opera, and I live for it!!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phantom of the Ball

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The large, shining chandeliers almost blinded you, the bright sparkle emitted from them making you keep your head lower. The ball had been dragging on for hours and, as fun as it looks, actually dancing for 4 hours without having anyone to converse with was more a curse than a blessing.

You swore your corset had tighten over the course of the evening and the many alcoholic beverages were doing little to refresh you. Your feet were starting to hurt, not only from dancing but from more than one clumsy man stepping on them, with no chair in sight.

The small crystals embroidered on your skirt had all your attention now as your gloved fingers fiddled with them.

At least it would pass the time faster, you supposed.

Unfortunately, your peace was quickly disturbed when someone ran into you, making you stumble forward. With a scoff on your lips you were swiftly pulled into the dance circle, your head spinning as you were hastily swirled around and passed off to the next man.

There were no pleasantries exchanged as you merely had time to catch your breath, trying to keep up with the pace, before the spiel repeated itself and you were meet with another unfamiliar face.

You were spun around like a dreidl, blinking to stop yourself from becoming too dizzy and falling.

Within the flash of a moment, there was a black wall in front of you. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the music slowly died down as all eyes were curiously set on the tall stranger.

He was dressed in the finest silks and velvets, all in black, setting a strong contrast to the creams, beiges, and whites everyone else sported. You craned your neck to take a better look at him, only to be met with an elegant mask, resembling a skull.

He peered down on you in an intimidating manner, sending a, surprisingly, pleasant shiver up your spine. You stared in amazement at the fringe at the bottom of his mask, making up the teeth of the skull.

They were still for now, but you wondered how they'd behave once he'd move. A quick glance around the room made you aware how many couples had taken a few steps back from the dance floor, leaving you and the mysterious man, quite literally, at the center of attention.

"May I?"

He broke the suffocating silence. Despite the roughness of his voice, there was no ill intent to be found towards you, only gentle words.

He held out his hand for you to take, wearing gloves that mimicked skeletal hands made up of various beads, embroidery and pearls.

There was a breath stuck in your throat, you only managed to nod, taking his offered hand. You gasped softly when he pulled you close to him, a firm hand on your waist as he gently cupped your hand in his large one.

He began moving, quite gracefully for someone his size. The music picked back up and, although hesitant, more and more couples joined in on the dance.

You were positively enchanted by this man, watching intently as the fringe at the bottom of his mask moved like a chime in the wind. You managed to make out a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes behind the mask. They made you feel hot and cold at the same time, adding to the exciting feeling in your chest.

He guided you with ease, almost making you float as he twirled you around like a delicate porcelain doll in a music box. Your hand fit into his so perfectly.

The soft and rich fabrics he wore felt pleasant underneath your fingertips, your hand resting on his shoulder. The outside world started to bleed and fade away as your thoughts were only occupied with him.

There were so many questions and mysteries surrounding the man. It made your heart swell with curiosity.

Before you could inquire more information about your strange suitor, he vanished. His hand slipped from your waist, and although his hand lingered in yours just a moment longer, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd left you alone in the center of the ruckus of obnoxiously large skirts and clacking heels. You turned in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he went.

The mass made you feel suffocated as they seemed to close in on you. You whipped around like a whirlwind, your eyes flitting over every possible exit.

You managed to see an all too familiar skeleton hand slipping from the doorframe, and determination boiled up inside of you like never before.

You hiked up your many skirts, swiftly ducking under swinging arms and spinning around dancing couples. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths when you managed to escape, but there was no time to rest.

You continued on, rushing through the door you saw him last. Your skirts rustled, your shoes clacked against the floor, and your breaths were labored as you ran down the long and empty hallway, keeping an eye out for the mysterious skeleton man.

Maybe you should be scared, running from him and not after him.

But there was something so intoxicating about his presence. His gentle touch, the deep, rough voice that you wanted to soothe with honey. And those intriguing brown eyes that held more secrets for you to uncover.

He was like an opioid, making you addicted after the first taste, to have you coming back until the end of time.

Your chase brought you to the moonlit courtyard of the estate.

You leaned forward, hoping to get more air into your lungs.

Damned corset.

Taking a rest on a stone bench, you looked around the blooming courtyard, admiring the many varieties of beautiful flowers. It smelled sweet, a tense fragrance having in the air like a heavy fog.

You were burning up from running, but the chilly evening breeze made you shiver. It was eerily quiet, only a few cicadas and crickets singing their songs for the summer.

You listened closely, hoping the stranger had tried to find some peace here.

You perked up when the crunching of grass under heavy footsteps reached your ears. You quickly rose from your seat and rounded the large hedge.

Your breath for caught in your throat when you spotted his broad back, calmly admiring the red roses, it seemed.

Unfortunately, the man had noticed you and made an effort to swiftly disappear into the night.

"Wait!" You reached out your hand, making him stop in his tracks.

"At least tell me your name." You pleaded, carefully stepping closer, as if not to scare away a wild animal.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly before he turned to face you, looming over you once again.

"They call me Ghost." He answered lowly, looking down on you with caution.

"Will I see you again?" You urged, stepping even closer.

His entire presence was pulling you in. You truly had no control.

You could've sworn you saw an amused glint in his eyes.

"I'll come back to you." He sounded sincere and soft as he spoke.

"Do you promise?" Your brows were pulled together as you swallowed, the urge to touch him twitching in your fingertips.

He glanced to the side before expertly plucking one of the deep red roses off the bush. He offered it you, and you gladly took it, being careful of any thorns.

"I promise." He said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

In an unexpected move, he gently took your unoccupied hand and slipped off your glove, making you gasped.

He proceeded to gently take your hand and guide it under his mask, the pearly fringe brushing your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your face was burning up, your heart pounding inside your ribcage.

He slipped his hand from yours again, making yours twitch in an attempt to keep his touch. He chuckled deeply, a fondness in his eyes you would never expect from someone like him.

You swallowed thickly as you glanced down towards the rose he'd gifted you. The aroma was strong. It made your head spin.

When you looked up again, though, he was gone, only the dark sky adorned by twinkling stars staring back at you.

Like a phantom, he disappeared into the night, only leaving you clutching your glove, the flower in the other hand, and a promise you hoped he'd keep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I am in love with this!!! Tootin' my own horn, I know...

Anyway, let me know what you think! 👀

🩷

More of my works -> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Fi answers 🐝 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you

[lure-of-writing]

Done

Summary: you are done with the way Cassian treats you

word count: 2k

There you were yet again. Alone. Cassian had been doing this a lot recently. Avoiding you that is. It never used to be like this. In the past you couldn’t get him to leave you alone, he was obsessed with you. That was until your work took you to the continent for almost a year. Nine months if you were to be exact. Sure being away from the people you loved wasn’t the best situation to be in but yet you didn’t let that stop you. Often after a long day of playing in the world of politics you would return to your room to write each person of the inner circle a letter. Cassians was always the first to be written and sent out. The rest followed soon after. Since you physically could not be the night court you tried to find ways to remind those you loved that you did in fact love and miss them dearly. Oftentimes sending little items that reminded you of them. Hand made emblem for Rhys to stamp his papers with, beautiful paints that weren’t available in the night court for Feyre. So on and so forth. 

At first everything was fine but the more time you spent on the continent the less you heard from Cassian. The first thought that crossed your mind at the lack of communication from Cass was that Rhys put him to work. Giving him something to focus on other than your lack of presence. With a quick letter to the high lord you quickly found out that was not the case. He in fact was not currently tending to anything other than his recurring requirement to his court. This was strange. 

Something you had learned in your time with Cassian was that sometimes you just simply did not have enough energy to deal with another person, let alone have a conversation with them. So you slowed down the letters you were sending but never failing to remind him that you loved him and couldn’t wait to be home once more and if you were able to visit then you would. Sometimes he would acknowledge the letters you sent, sometimes he wouldn’t. If he sent a letter to you he would oftentimes  disregard what you said about missing him, simply brushing past what you said as if it held no significance. This didn’t happen right away of course, no, it was a slow and minute thing that happened over time. When he first stoped sharing your feeling of longing and want to be with the other person you didn’t mind, figuring that he was enjoying some time alone without you but by month six you were concerned, exhausted, sad and overall hurt and frustrated. This lead you to calling him out on his actions in your next letter. “What is going on? We barley talk, when I offer to come visit you say no, when I ask for you to come here instead you say no. Ive tried just about everything to see you but yet you never do the same for me. I find it quite ironic how every time I think I will have enough time to return home you suddenly are very busy, but yet when I ask Rhysand if that is the case it isn’t. You never have enough time in your days for me but you always have more then enough time to spend with your friends. You will pick literally anything and anyone else over me. Why is that? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not good enough? If you don’t feel the same or want to be in this relationship then please let me know because I can’t do this.” 

Cassian obviously talked you down from the ledge of a breakup reassuring you that he did in fact love you; he was just busy with everything happening within the inner circle especially since he was the peacekeeper between Rhysand and Nesta. Bregurgenly you accepted his answer not without reminding him that what he did was not ok and he needed to change his behavior. Immediately he agreed stating that he saw how it was a problem and needed to do better. 

But better never came. Three months had passed since that argument and almost a month more had passed since you returned home. It was mind blowing how even upon your return back to the night court Cassian never came to see you. Not once. Once again something or someone else always needed him more. With a defeated heart and building anger you accepted each of his excuses in hope that he would one day return the effort you were putting in the relationship. That day never came. Rhysand wanted to see you after your long excursion across the ocean and to a foreign land. He also needed a report from you in full but that was neither here or there. Once at the river house Rhys greeted you with a big smile and open arms, inviting you into a very much needed hug. “How are you my friend?” the question was asked as your high lord led you to his office “I’ve been better but you know how that goes.” Rhysand frowns at your answer “Continue on. What do you mean by that?” sighing you deflate in the chair across from him. “It’s Cassian. I asked him when we could see each other and he said he was busy this weekend and last but I know he was just here. I can smell him. If he was just here, why couldn’t he have stayed and finally acknowledged my existence for the first time since I’ve gotten home?” Rhys simply nodded his head in understanding sensing you had more you needed to get off of your chest. He was right about that. “And then when I asked about seeing him this weekend he said he was busy celebrating the new Valkyries. Like seriously? C’mon. You can’t spare five minutes of your day to say hi, how are you?” 

“I see why you have been better.” with another heavy sigh you nod while closing your eyes to stop the burning sensation of oncoming tears from succeeding in their mission. “Not even that but he doesn’t even talk to me anymore. I will try and try and try but it's like he couldn’t be less interested in what I have to say. If I don’t say anything first we would never talk. Gods, we don’t talk. Actually now that I think of it I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted for more then five minutes. That is when he can pencil me into his very busy schedule.” You felt Rhysands observing eyes take note of your completely exhausted appearance. And the drained feeling radiating off of you. It wasn’t from the trip. He knew that much. “Y/n my dear you need to talk to him about this.” the first sigh of your impending breakdown was your wobbling lip being pressed inbetween your teeth and the deep breath you take to stop yourself from crying. It was not successful as tears freely made their way down your cheeks. Rhysand saw it then. You were not angry, or frustrated you were simply done being treated this way. You knew what you needed to do but your heart hadn’t let you. “I have talked to him about this. All I do is talk and talk and talk.” A broken laugh makes it way out at how completely stupid you feel. “I’m done talking. He has shown me time and time again just how exactly he feels about me. You prioritize the people you love. And I am no longer a priority.” Finally opening your eyes you see those stunning violet eyes staring back. At first it felt like pity but the longer you looked the more you recognized the true emotion displayed. Empathy. Oftentimes you forgot Rhys could look into people's minds but as you felt the gentle nudge in your head asking for permission to see what had been going on you allowed it. A few moments pass as he shuffled through your memories before he finally retreated to his own mind. “Y/n my dear you don’t deserve that. You know this right.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to verbally respond to him so instead you simply nodded your head while trying to hold back the tsunami of tears fighting to be released. “I know.” you whispered 

Getting Cassian to yourself was no easy feat. The first few failed attempts resulted in getting Rhysand involved as much as you hated having to do so. But this conversation was much needed and you knew you would never feel content with your decision unless you were able to talk with the male face to face. There in that exact office where you had cried to your closest friend about your relationship being in shambles is where you now stood in front of Cassian who was silently sitting in the chair in front of you. “We should break up.” That finally got his attention. As soon as Rhysand revealed that the pretend meeting was just a ploy to get him in the same room as you, Cassian had shut down completely. Now he was staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I have tired and tired to get you to care about me and I am done trying. I am tired.” Cassian tried to speak but with the raise of your hand he was quick to close his mouth. “Everything else in your life has taken more priority in your life than me, and I am not saying that I am the most important person in your life because I am not. But I have been begging for you to give me even an ounce of your attention and you can’t even do that so I am done. I am done begging you to allow me in your life, hell to even want me in your life in the first place. I will not continue to beg and plead for you to show me you care because it is quite obvious that you don’t and that you haven’t for a very long time. This is not how you treat someone you love. I would know because I would never do the same to you.” Cassian stood abruptly closing the distance between the two of you causing you to take an equal about of steps back from him. Seeing the hurt flash in his eyes brought you a sense of disbelief. Only when you are about to walk away does he finally show interest in you again. How ironic. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I can do better, I can be better.” His whisper of words are overshadowed by the laugh falling from your lips. “That is what you have been saying for months and yet you never change. Sure you do better for like a week and then everything is back to normal. It's time to face the music, Cassian. This relationship is over. It has been for months. I was the only one putting in effort and you honestly can’t believe that I would continue to stick around when you don’t do the same. Relationships are two-sided and you know that but yet I was all alone.” 

Swiftly you move past him and his outstretched arm. Only stopping once you reach the threshold of the doors. You don’t look back as you speak “I hope you are a better partner for Nesta.” Cassian remains silent as you pull open the door. Rolling your shoulders back you stand tall as you make your way down the hallway lined with Rhysand and Azriel. Finally you had set yourself free from the person who valued you the least. Outside of the River house you took in Velaris one last time. Life on the continent was calling and you couldn’t fathom telling it no. Something in your soul had changed walking out of that room. Something no male could ever take away from you again. Happiness. And for the first time in your life you finally understood what it meant to put yourself first.

#cassian oneshot #cassian x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian x y/n #cassian angst

[oceaneyesinla]

Please don't ask what this is. Not usually a Sukuna girlie but I watched the fire arrow scene again and it does things to me (hands + fire = !!!!). No-one look at me, I've never written Sukuna or smut before

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut below, enjoy!

You knew what those hands had done. You knew what they were capable of. The lives they had taken and the blood they had spilled, red dripping from those strong fingers and running down past tattooed wrists. You had watched it in real time, watched as they struck down those who would insult him and tore apart those who would oppose him. He was merciless, and those hands were the conduit through which he directed his murderous urges.

You knew their destructive power, and yet you couldn’t fear them. Not when those same hands had handled you with such care. The same hands which ripped a man’s head from his body, were also the ones which lovingly ran through your hair, separating strands as if it were the finest silk in the land. Those hands were often covered in viscera, but they were just as often covered in expensive oils, providing sweet relaxation with every pass over your skin.

Those hands, with long, thick fingers and prominent veins running along the back. Palms slightly rough from the times where his cursed technique wasn’t enough and he bloodied his flesh to get the job done in a way that would satisfy his bloodlust.

The world would say they were the hands of a monster, and maybe they were right in the grand scheme of things, but they didn’t know that the hands they saw commit only evil were also capable of such love. They would never know the man within that monster. They would not know the reverent gaze you were fixed with as those hands trailed across your body, mapping the skin they passed over. Nor would they know the deep chuckle that filled the air as those hands toyed with your nipples to draw breathy moans from your throat.

Those hands knew your body better than anyone else, and they knew how to reduce you to a whimpering mess within minutes. Warm palms would run up and down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, each pass bringing them closer to where you wanted them most. Skillful fingers would tease at your clit, the fleeting contact making you squirm. Two fingers would scissor to pull apart your folds, so red eyes could see the evidence of your arousal. Thick digits would press inside you, seeking out that spot along your walls with focus and precision, determined to watch you arch your back and listen to you moan his name. Sukuna knew your weakness for his hands, and he knew exactly how to exploit it. It benefited him too, you came to realise. He wanted to feel your heat flutter around his fingers; he drew pleasure from feeling your arousal coat his skin, leaving a slick sheen. He knew just how to get his results, too - knew that every time he praised you; reminded you that you were so good for him, that you took his fingers so well, you would clench a little harder around him.

Those hands would pin yours to the bed, and they would rest heavy on your hips as he rutted into you, and one would come up to grasp your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes as you fell apart in his hold. After your lovemaking, those hands were gentle as ever, cleaning up the fluids coating your thighs and massaging sore muscles.

Those hands belonged to the man you loved, and no matter what horror they, and he, committed, you would never see anything more or less than your Sukuna.

#jjk smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut

[mrfippstuff]

CSM 165: Asaden Monkey's Paw

With Katana Man's suggestion of going to a brothel, I sort of had a horrifying idea how this could end.

Sex is an important thing in Chainsaw Man and how varying characters interact with it and Denji being one of the most prominent examples. He started this story salivating for even the slightest touch of the female form, but when we got it with Power he was left disappointed and he didn't know why. Despite everything Makima did to him, all the horrible ways she manipulated and destroyed him, he took her lessons about intimacy to heart, and that's what he ultimately wants in the end. He refused to sleep with Himeno, he refused to take advantage of Power, he asked Asa out on a second date instead to grope her breast, Denji's story is not about him not wanting sex, but intimacy. Denji wants to be close to someone, he wants to be loved on equal grounds, and while he found love with Aki, Power and Nayuta, he is looking for a love that they simply cannot provide for him. But where has that search for love gotten him? Himeno vomited down with throat, Reze bit off his tongue and tried to kill him, Makima destroyed his life and killed the two other people in his life he had grown to love, and Asa, the one girl who "didn't hurt him" is now looking to be no better than them. Denji's search for love and intimacy has seen him hurt, betrayed and manipulated again and again and again, leaving him not with a single wholly genuine experience. On top of this, his life has gone down the drain, his pets, Nayuta and the "normal life" that was forced upon him had burnt down around him, leaving him with nothing to show for all the pain he's been through in his life, and he ultimately blames himself for it.

I feel like there's a good chance he might accept Katana Man's offer to visit a brothel, and that his reason for doing so won't be because he'll find intimacy, but because he just doesn't care anymore. Between his own misery and belief that he cannot be happy for the deaths of his family, and his own constant hurt and disappointment with love, I think he might do this because to him there's just no value in wanting that intimacy anymore, he'll just do it to get it over with. it'll be something to just mark off a checklist instead of something to savor and enjoy.

Then there is Asa. We know that she does not like sex, that she thinks it's gross, but it's clear that she feels this way because she's afraid of intimacy. Having sex means making yourself vulnerable to someone, and Asa's past experiences have taught her that getting close to people only result in her getting her. She is afraid of being alone, but she's afraid of getting close to people, she made her thoughts clear to Denji when he saved her, but something changed for her. Denji saving her made her feel valued, appreciated, that there was something in her worth valuing. Everything Asa did was so she could "save" Chainsaw Man, to prove to herself that she could help someone and be of use, but as we've seen it's not panned out well for her. Denji isn't happy for her saving him, he's more miserable than he's ever been, when Denji points out how shady Fami is she says her heart is in the right place, and when he talks about having to eat toilet paper from public restrooms she tries to see it as a metaphor.

Asa wants to help Denji, but she's still thinking about herself in doing it, because Asa's story is about her trying to help people and those same people being hurt or dying because of her wanting to do the right thing. She can't accept that Fami's not a good person who is responsible for possibly millions of deaths around the world, she can't accept that Denji's "normal" before Chainsaw Man saw him in such an extreme poverty, she can't self-reflect on herself because that would mean realizing she made all the wrong choices, and that the person she tried to help, that made her feel good about herself is suffering and she has a hand to play it. In her desperation to save Chainsaw Man she has only brought him misery.

I think there's a chance that Denji and Asa may have sex in the worst circumstances possible for them.

If Denji is at a point where he no longer cares about intimacy, and Asa remains desperate to convince Denji that "normal" is good for him, I think she might offer herself to be his sexual partner. I've seen people misunderstand Denji's issues and that having sex will solve his problems without thinking about the strong emotional context of situation, and I feel like Asa might be in that same spot, where she'll convinced herself that Denji having sex would solve his problems and make him happy. "Having sex with a girlfriend is normal, we went on a date so us having sex would be normal! See how good normal is!"

Denji and Asa are two people who want to find intimacy and love, but if they were to have sex under these conditions they would find neither; Denji would only do it because he sees no value in waiting anymore, and Asa would only do it because her very sense of self-value is on the line, there would be no love or understanding in this, just more grief and loneliness.

I straight up wrote a fanfic about this.

#chainsaw man #165 #denji #asa mitaka #asaden #I hope this doesn't happen like this

[papercranesandpride]

I know it's the kind of thing that makes conservatives lose their minds, but I do think we need to explicitly tell people: it is possible for you to want different genitals. Even if you're cis. Even if you're nonbinary. Even if you like presenting like your assigned gender at birth. Because even when I knew I was nonbinary, the idea of wanting different genitals never even occured to me as an option. That's for "real" trans people. Binary trans people. I still partially identified as a woman at the time, and why would a woman ever even think about having a penis? She wouldn't. So I never did.

Then one day someone tweeted something saying "r/GrowYourClit, a whole subreddit full of cis women trying to achieve bottom growth, is a thing that exists. Transition is a lot more complicated than we paint it as." And that thought did not leave my head. All it took was one person saying "actually you can want a penis even if you're a woman" for my entire world to change and for me to realize that I actually, desperately wanted that.

We need to tell people, even children, that it is not normal to feel uncomfortable about your genitals. You should like them. They should feel like part of you. It is okay to think that maybe you'd like a different set better.

I spent my entire life not knowing that it was possible to feel more comfortable in my body. Not knowing that I should feel more comfortable than I did. We need to make a world where people do know that. Where they know they have other options and are empowered to get them.

#transgender #trans #nonbinary #non binary #queer #lgbt #lgbtq #dysphoria

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 19. M!Whitney (Breeding & Incest)

Pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 3,432 Warnings: stepcest, breeding, creampie, pregnancy ment, baby trapping Prompt(s): 04 — breeding + 07 — incest Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: big brother whitney my beloved!!!!!!!! probably my most favourite trope ever to pair with him ugh </3 such a nasty man. such a gross guy. i hope you can tell just how much fun i had exploring this request!!! and thank u for sending it in !!

The number one worst thing about having a hot step sister glued to his side at all times is that every day he has to fend off all the disgusting creeps that show up to his door, because you're too fucking dumb to see their true intentions and rely solely on him to be your moral compass. You've got a tight fucking body, don't y'know that? No, they don't wanna date you, idiot. They don't wanna court you, or take you on some romantic trip like they so often claim. They just wanna use your holes and milk you for all your sorry ass is worth because you're too pretty for your own good. How does he know that? Well, because he isn't any fucking better himself, truthfully. Throw him in with the rest of the town and you'd not be able to tell the difference between him and the guy next door— but you trust him too much, don't you? More than that, you need him to protect you. It's what big brothers do, despite how he may feel internally, and despite how often he speaks against that ideal; he wants to keep you safe, too. Even if only for more self serving reasons, driven mostly by how his cock thinks, rather than his brain.

Because of that, the second worst thing about having a hot step sister within his immediate vicinity is the fact that he's always hard when you're around. And he can't easily escape you, given that you're literally right through the fucking wall from him. Pining, yearning to bury himself balls deep in your little sister cunt to seek solace for the feelings resting sickly thick in his tummy every time he sees your stupid face. A burning bile, rising to the tip of his tongue when he sees you smile, threatening to spit venom at you when you act all aloof and cute like that. Like you've got no idea what sort of things you do to him, or the general public. Ignorant to how pretty you are, so fucking annoying, especially when you unknowingly leave him with blue balls every night, causing him to fuck his fist to only the memory of you like some sort of seedy stalker.

But isn't he kind of just that? Watching your every move, making sure you don't step too out of line or too out of his eyesight in fear of you straying too far. Late at night, when his fist is wrapped too tight around his fat cock and even fatter beads of precum drool from his red hot tip, he convinces himself that he's just looking out for you. Just being a good big brother at the end of the day. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you in private because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing secret glances of you in the kitchen while petting his fat bulge because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing your panties to sniff at them while his fist fucks his needy cock before placing them right back where he found them; only now a little stained sticky with seed, because that's what good big brothers do. In that, he's tried so hard and for so long to treat you as he's supposed to. Protective, perhaps a little too much so, but nonetheless genuine in his attempts to shield you from the harsh realities of this world. Even at the cost of his own sanity, and his poor cock.

But as he lingers around your open door, shoulder resting against the frame, one foot tucked behind the other, he gets an idea. An insidious one at that, borne out of sheer desperation to reconcile with himself in such a selfish manner it's almost shameful, but an idea nonetheless. Encouraged by the tiny little sleeping shorts you've decided to wear tonight, ass facing him like an invitation, face pressed close to your phone as a display of submission. He briefly wonders if you've even picked up on his presence yet, caught on to the fact that your big brother has been busy for the past few minutes simply staring at your ass, nursing a growing erection with an open palm circling his tip. Because if you have, you certainly haven't let on. But the thought of you being so fucking dull, enough not to feel his ever watching presence at your back side, has his cock twitching for your attention, drives him insane with sexual frustration. Horny at how well you ignore him, God, you're so pretty but so dumb. Fucking slut, you better not be doing this on purpose— riling him up without even fucking trying, it's so beyond frustrating that he has half a mind to treat you as unfairly as you do him, just like how all those abusers outside would like to ruin you. Though, on a more positive note, your complete and utter lack of self preservation only strengthens his secret resolve. You need to be taught a harsh lesson, at the very least, to be more aware of your surroundings.

There's really only one way to keep you by his side forever, to be the best big brother you could ever ask for; eager to provide you with whatever you may need so long as you can satiate the ever growing hunger he feels for you. And besides, it's not like he's technically going to be doing anything wrong... Right, step sis?

Carefully, he creeps towards you. Stalking prey, straying from the creaky floorboards he intimately knows about, reaching the foot of your bed before you know it and pounces. Calculating his fall so that he's got your wrists pinned above your head and your legs locked under his own. A breathy laugh follows, he can't quite believe just how easy you are to catch, but isn't that further proof that you need big brother to be by your side forever? See, he's doing you a fucking favour by keeping you under him.

"Got you." He mumbles absentmindedly, smiling down at your squished into the pillow face as you writhe and wriggle around for freedom under him. You're not helping his hard on, y'know that?

"Whitney! What's your fucking deal— Ouch, that hurts, asshole—"

"Quit yer fuckin' whining." He sighs, dismissing your petulant cries by tightening his grip on your wrists anyway to show how serious he is, and tilting his head to the side, lowering his upper body to get closer to your face. And for a few moments he merely stares at you. Takes in the sight of your confused expression, the furrow of your brows. Cute, he thinks to himself, cautious not to let his hips drop down too low in fear of rubbing himself against you. Usually others appear more scared when he's on top, but like a good little sister you intrinsically know the trust him, right?

In that case, fuck it, he thinks. A split second decision, coaxed into giving in to his more baser instincts by the pretty pout you send his way, a low mutter of you're heavy, can you please get off? as if it were even a fucking question. It's your own fault, really. Should have known that displaying your innocence in such an honest fashion would only lead to others wanting to corrupt. To dirty you, stain you as vile as they are.

Which doesn't exclude your own brother, especially as he yields to his perverted fantasies and drops his hips in one fell swoop, heavy hard cock resting between your ass cheeks that he knows you can feel the outline of. Shoulda worn something less provoking, then. The pretty gasp you let out at the contact causing his own brows to knit together in focus, biting down on his tongue to withhold expletives when you question his ethics.

"Are you— Are you hard, Whitney? Really?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

There's no use denying it, not when his hips are pressed flush against your backside. His heart racing, thumping hard against his chest at the prospect of finally getting a taste of you, his precious, highly sought after, baby sister. He's in your room for only one reason tonight, a selfish seeking to protect you. Whether you agree to it or not is of no consequence, he's only doing what's best for you, okay? And besides, he's so much stronger than you, isn't he? Bigger too... There's nowhere you can run that he won't find you, if you ever get the opportunity to escape.

Given his nonchalant answer, he hears you sigh in response, a deep sound that has his cock dripping more pre just for you. And he can't stop thinking about how lucky he is to hear your resignation. To be resting his weighty cock on top of your pretty ass just to have you simply accept it as par for the course.

And though he'd love to take his time with you, to really enjoy everything you have to offer, to make you cry on his cock— he's been wanting this for a long time. Seething in secrecy, longing for a taste of your sweet sister cunt; he can't wait any longer. Not now that he has your unvoiced blessing, watching as you bury your face back into your pillow and wiggle your ass against his cock— fuck, you already feel so good against him.

"C'mon then," Your voice is muffled, but nonetheless encouraging. A pang of pain in his heart at the way you seem to be wanting him too, a comfortable hurt borne out of disgusting adoration for the one person he isn't supposed to have. And here you are, supporting his lewd love for you. Releasing one of your wrists with the intent to get a move on like you're asking, but instead his hand stops mid air when he witnesses you tugging down your shorts for him. "Before mom and dad get back, okay? Just want you out my room so don't... I don't wanna do it when they're here."

"Fuck me—"

He hears your stipulation, of course. It makes total fucking sense. Fucking his little sister? Perfectly fine. Fucking his little sister when other people are in the house? Fucking weird, don't fucking do that. But he curses loud and proud at the sight of your no panties, like you knew he was coming in to steal you away for the night. Had he stolen your pair tonight? He can't quite remember, mind empty beyond the thought of finally attaining what he's worked so tirelessly for. Helping you pull down your shorts the rest of the way; or at least until they rest by your ankles because he's too eager to get his cock wet already.

Immediately, impulsively, he spreads your legs wide enough to accommodate him. Letting go of your other wrist to allow you breathing room, but also so he can selfishly explore your body. Running his hands up and down your ass, spanking you a few times for good measure. Cock pulsing at the yelps his hands smack out of you, biting down on his bottom lip when he drops his pants low enough only to let his cock spring free. The cool air that hits his sopping tip is almost sobering, if not for the way you pout his name so prettily. An effortless attempt to turn him on, no doubt.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Want me to hurry up and fuck my slut, right?" He sneers, not even gracing you with eye contact as he spreads your cheeks apart to get a greedy look at your holes. His hips fucking forward on their own at the small glimpse he gets, prompting him to hang his head in shame so that you don't catch the way his cheeks heat up. How the idea of keeping you all to himself, truly turning his baby sister into his little slut fills him with so much joy that he can't help himself from rubbing his cock against your ass, humping his hips against you in barely there snap thrusts just to provide himself some sort of stimulation. Just something to take the edge off as he gathers the courage to put it in already.

Because once he does, he knows he won't be able to stop. And that's a little worrying, considering he's so used to having control over you.

He hadn't intended to wait for you to respond to his rhetorical question, but the way you practically beg "Please." is music to his ears. God, he can't even compare it to the countless faceless sluts he's fucked in the past, completely focused on how his baby sister drips slick for his tip to collect, angling his cock down to catch on your pretty little hole for the first time ever.

And it feels so fucking good to finally have contact with you like this, holy shit. Even just letting precum bead out against your hole would be enough, he thinks. Enough to have him feeling better than he has before, dirty slut, you've only went and ruined his hand for the rest of his life. You better fucking own up to that, yeah? Let him cream your cunt with the intent of knocking you up so that he can be your big brother for life, that'd be a good start, don't you think?

With the way you wiggle against him, leaking all over his cock as if he wasn't providing you enough lubrication with the abundance of precum your simple existence coaxes out of him, he automatically rolls his hips into you. Into your cunt. Gasping for air the second he pushes past your entrance, choking at the way your insides wrap around his tip, and soon enough his whole length when he can't stop himself from ruining his pretty little sister now that you've given him permission.

And after the first few little humps he has you endure, he's settling an unfairly fast pace. Pent up frustration, almost resentment expressed in every relentless thrust over how fucking perfect you are, so much so that your cunt practically shuts him up for once in his lifetime spare some crass comments about your pretty body, or about how fuckin' tight are you? fuck, can barely fit inside, God, look at how pretty my little slut is bouncing on my cock. Mean words as an attempt to hide how downright in love he is with you, how he wants to fuck only baby sister cunt for the rest of his life, moaning openly at the sound of wet skin on skin slapping with how hard and fast he thrusts into you. Like a dog in heat, drool collects in his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his skull, hands innately finding home on your hips for stability, like they were always meant to be there.

You feel so fucking good it's cruel, cock aching with every pulse your cunt offers around him, every suck of your insides begging to keep his cock inside as he repeatedly fucks you up the bed. You were right, it's best to do this was no one else at home, else you get exposed for being the dirty little sister slut that you are— taking big brothers cock so well, aren't you? Fucking made for him, babbling cute strings of nothing from how frantic his humps are, accidentally cutting you off mid mumble with every greedy fuck; he just can't stop himself. Hasn't a hope in Hell of showing a mere modicum of control while inside of you, head empty and cock hard for you.

And as he's fully sheathed inside, groaning out at the feeling of his balls slapping against your backside, intimate with the way his thighs are tacky like your own from every gush of your wet little cunt around his too big cock, he remembers exactly what he came here to do. The sole reason why you're a moaning mess on your bed right now, tangling the sheets in your cute little fists as if that was gonna help the stretch of his fat cock bullying your insides. His voice comes out hoarse, having to choke on a cough to clear the lust coating his tongue as he continues pumping away inside of you.

"Gonna fuck ya pregnant, kay?

Almost immediately, lagging a little from that good dick, aren't you slut? You start to whine. That same petulant tone you used earlier, and just like earlier, it goes straight to his throbbing cock, makes his balls all taut and his muscles all tense as he keeps you pinned in place with large hands. Greedy hands, bruising in their grip of your body so that you know who's in charge. So that you can't escape him, this is all for your own good, remember?

"Whit— don't, stop I— Ah—!" It's no use though, is it? His cock feels too good in your tight little cunt, big brother just wants to make you feel good, okay? He just wants to feel your cunt suck him off so well, your body is begging for his seed, right? And because he's such a good big brother, he's more than happy to give you a taste. Over and over again, until his seed takes to your womb and you're stuck with him for life, tension building in his tummy at the thought of walking around with you hand in hand, big pregnant belly scaring off anyone who even dares to look at his sister. His slut, whining like a pretty bitch as he drags your ass back down to meet his every thrust, can you feel how desperate he is for release? So eager to stain your insides white in an effort to prevent others from touching you, to keep you safe forever; it's just big brother duties, it's okay if dumb little sister minds can't understand his reasoning. All you have to do is lay there and fucking take it. Take his pounding, take the pinches and slaps on your ass, take his sticky precum coating your thighs, just as well as he honours the ring of your cream at the base of his cock. You're so pretty, his eyes trained on the spot where he disappears over and over again into your tight little hole, greedy little cunt. But he's fucking it too fast for it to truly capture his attention, instead his head is thrown back with a dopey grin tugging on his lips, sheer pleasure rolling down his spine with a gasped: "Shut up, doin'— 'M doin' ya favour. Fuuuck, jus' like that—" before shooting a load deep into your sister cunt. Still fucking himself through the orgasm that washes over him, that has him drooling from how fucking good it feels to finally claim you as his own, hopeful that his stink will scare off anyone else from even attempting to get close to you in order to abuse you the same way he has tonight.

And, if he's lucky, the continued thrusts he provides your tender, swollen hole, milking himself for all he's worth against your cervix, he'll have successfully filled you up enough to impregnate you. Doesn't that feel good? Poor baby was probably just a little worried like he was, right? His breathing is laboured, heaving for air by the time he's done emptying his balls inside of you, but still the first thing he does is collapses on top of you. Smiles to himself at the soft little oof you let out with his added weight, but he's not here just to laze around.

From now on, you're officially his. And he likes to take good care of his sluts, especially if they're as precious as his little sister. Step or not, he cares about you enough to wrap his big arms around you with a chaste kiss to the back of your head, hiding his face against your neck to nose at your scent as he calms down.

"Gross." You whine at his affections, and he agrees. Rolling you over onto his side with him so that he can sneak a hand between your legs, warming his spent cock in your hole still as he brings attention to your puffy, touch starved clit. The resulting moan you let out is thanks enough for securing your future with him.

Though, what's worse is that he's thinking about doing the exact same thing tomorrow, planning to leave the house only once.

You'll need some pregnancy tests, won't you?

#500 event! #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity smut #dol #dol smut #whitney the bully #whitney the bully smut

[kieran-granola]

Mer! Tim and mer! Jason knocking each other up at the same time by accident and hilarity ensues when people find out

Jason wakes up feeling warm. His tail is hopelessly tangled with Tim's, the two of them cuddled up on a bed of soft algae. He can feel every single one of Tim's slow breaths, the shudder of water through his side gills ruffling Jason's wispy fins.

It's peaceful in a way he didn't think breeding season could be.

A quiet note fills the water as Jason hums in contentment. The sound makes Tim stir. With a smile, Jason presses soft kisses to his throat and cheek — over the bites he left on him at the height of their Mating frenzy. Tim’s eyes blink open. He gives Jason a slow smile before drawing him into a kiss. Their lips move languidly together for a while, rows of razor-sharp teeth hidden away.

Eventually, Jason pulls back. He nuzzles Tim’s nose with his own, before untangling their limbs to stretch his tail. Eyes half-lidded, Tim watches the movement. Then his own song echoes with a surprised warble as his expression goes from languid to pure delight.

“You caught!” he exclaims.

Jason blinks before looking down. It takes him a bit of squinting in the low light before he spots the darker patch of skin on his belly. Hands flying to his middle, he lets out a soft sound. He’s pregnant! He wasn't sure that it was in the cards for him after the Green Waters. He thought that he'd been too damaged, too broken to be the livebearer in their pair.

(…Not that Tim and him didn't give every configuration a try, but that was more a matter of pleasure than reproduction.)

Grinning widely, he tugs Tim out of bed and twirls him in excitement. “We did it! We’re going to be parents!”

With a giddy laugh, Tim wraps his arms around Jason’s neck. Lost in each other’s eyes, they let themselves forget the world, their tails swirling together in a bright flash of gold and red as they dance in joy. Their fins fan in and out to the rhythm of their shared song… until the rumbling of Jason's stomach interrupts them.

Tim laughs as their dancing winds down. “Sounds like I better do my duty and feed you.”

“I want mackerel,” Jason demands playfully. “To celebrate.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.” Tim rolls his eyes as he slings his hunting harness over his chest.

Jason steals a couple of kisses while helping him with the clasps, before accompanying him to the entrance of their breeding nest. Tim gives him one last nuzzle before swimming into the brighter ocean, his staff in hand. Jason watches the light reflect off his pretty golden tail from the safety of their cave…

Right before rushing after him with a gasp.

“Tim!” Jason exclaims as he catches Tim’s wrist.

Tim whirls around in surprise. “Uh, I don't think you're supposed to leave our ca—”

“You caught too!”

Tim freezes. “What?”

“Look!”

Jason puts his hands around the discreet darker spot on Tim’s stomach. Tim frowns, but he looks down. He blinks. Then his mouth falls open in shock.

“Holy shit! How is that even possible?!”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what happened, but obviously it did, and… Fuck. Tim, we’re going to have so many fries!” Jason can't keep the excitement out of his voice, the deep, overjoyed notes of his song joining the clicks of his tongue.

Tim gives him a soft smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. I guess that warrants twice as much mackerel?”

“Yeah! Actually, wait. No." Jason frowns. "It’s too dangerous. You shouldn't be out hunting.”

Jason starts dragging them both back to their nest, but Tim resists. “Neither should you by that logic, but we still need to eat.”

Jason scrunches up his nose. He was so caught up in his discovery that he forgot about the practicalities for a minute. Shit. He has no idea how they're going to deal with logistics when both of them will need to be protected, fed, and taken care of while their fries gestate. Unless…

Ugh. Jason looks at Tim. His partner’s face is schooled into a careful mask of neutrality which tells Jason everything he needs to know. Tim has had the exact same idea he did, and he's waiting to see how Jason feels about it.

“I don't suppose you've got a secret uncle who could host us?” Jason tries.

Tim’s lips quirk in amusement as he shakes his head. “Sorry. No hidden family anywhere.”

“Dammit.” Jason sighs, and a torrent of bubbles swims up between them. “You know Bruce is going to be insufferable if we ask him for help, right?”

“Yeah." Tim sighs too. "We'll be safe, though, and our fries too.”

“Ugh. I guess. Fine. You give him the news, though. I need him to work it out of his system before letting him anywhere near me.”

Tim grimly extends a hand. “That's a deal... if you take care of telling Alfred.”

Jason pales, but he shakes Tim's hand. "Deal."

#kieran writes #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #mermay #ok listen #i know this said comedy but i got caught up in the fluff #don't look at me

[periluvr]

think of me once in a while, take care - Take Care

cw: drugs, black out, cuss words, vomit, alchohol, kidnapping

situationship with gojo, gojo x female reader

"Who are you going to see dressed like that, do you have a date?" Gojo laughs

"not really, I'm just going for a drink with some friends, do you think it's too much?"

"No, not at all! You look quite beautiful in that dress, in fact, I'm quite jealous of everyone who sees you there" he says seductively.

You start to put on your earrings and watch when Gojo asks you a question

"Tomorrow's my day off, so I'm likely to get called in anyway, but do you want to do something?"

You sigh, you wanted more than anything to go out with Gojo, you weren't really together but you liked him and he liked you, that was obvious. But you knew full well that if word got out in the world, people would take advantage of it to use you as prey and harm Gojo. You knew from dating Gojo a few months ago that you weren't going to have a relationship like the others, but that was fine with you, seeing each other at your apartment was fine too.

"You know it's dangerous, I'm not against it, but wanna…live ?" you say sarcastically.

"I never said I wanted to see you outside, we can just meet here and do something like a puzzle" he laughs.

"You know I love puzzles!" you look around at the puzzles hanging on your walls, puzzles representing paintings by your favorite artists, like Claude Monet or Alfred Sisley.

"I'm not making fun, I just think you're... patient?" He says, putting his hands on your shoulders and gently kissing your neck. You sigh with desire, this wasn't the time to get into his game, your friends were waiting for you. A few minutes later, you signal to Gojo that you're off to join your friends, it was the girls’ night of the month, at your usual bar, one of your favorite evenings.

"Call me if there's a problem, really," he says, hugging you and kissing your forehead gently. You kiss him furtively on the mouth before leaving your house.

Once you've arrived at the bar, you sit down with your girl friends at a table. The bar was quite full, a little more or even a lot more than usual, which intrigues you but you don't really care, you're there to enjoy yourself with your friends. A few hours later, you're dancing with your friends when a man comes up to you and offers each of you a drink. You gulp down the glass as quickly as it was offered, a thought coming to your mind "why did I drink it, there might be something in it", it was too late in any case.

The evening is in full swing, the girls seem to be doing well, a sign that there was nothing in the glasses, so much the better. A few minutes after this reflection, nausea hits you and the headaches get stronger and stronger, your vision blurs. If the girls are okay, it's got to be the alcohol.

"I'm going to the toilet, I've got to throw up", you simply say to your friends before getting up.

"Do you want me to come?" says one of them.

"Don't worry, I won't be long". You know yourself, you know you're going to throw up and go back to dancing as if nothing had happened.

Once in the bathroom, everything revolves around you, sweat running down your forehead and back, your breathing starting to race. "It's not the alcohol" , you think, before looking at your pupils in the mirror, so dilated that you can’t even see your irises, you know you're in deep shit at this point. You start writing to one of your friends, you can't even see what you're writing, your hands are shaking so much. Your phone falls to the floor, and you crouch down to retrieve it before fainting. You're alone, lying in a bar bathroom, probably surrounded by urine and vomit.

BLACK OUT

You wake up in bed, look around and don't recognize the place. You're not at Gojo's or one of your friends' houses. Crap. You reach for your phone, but to no avail. Someone knocks on the door, a man enters softly, not the one who bought you the drinks yesterday, which is certainly good news.

"My wife found you unconscious in the bar's bathroom yesterday, so we thought we'd bring you in. Your friends have already taken an uber home."

My friends? an uber to get home without knowing where I was? that doesn't sound like them at all.

"Where's your wife?" you ask confused and very worried.

"She's doing some shopping, she'll bring you back some medicine for vomiting and headaches" He says gently.

"Where's your toilet? I think I need to throw up again" you say with a laugh, you were obviously going to try and find a way out of here.

"Down there on the right, I'm going downstairs to start breakfast, do you want anything?"

Just the thought of food makes you want to vomit, "no, I'll be fine, thanks".

He leaves, you get out of bed and go to the back on the right, you look around to see if there's your phone somewhere, you look everywhere in the room where you had also slept but in vain, no phone. You looked in the bedside table drawer at random, it was there and it worked! But there was no network. So you look for a room where there's a signal, go inside and lock yourself in. You call Gojo directly, since he can teleport himself and he'll be there in no time, can't he?

You first look at all the missed calls and messages from your girlfriends and Gojo, twenty seven missed calls from Gojo, ah.

"Where the fuck are you? I've just been looking for you, I haven't slept all night, you haven't answered any of the messages and your girlfriends don't even know where you are!" he says through the phone, you can feel how upset he was but above all worried.

"A man and a woman found me in the bathroom yesterday — you look up, see if there's an indicator of where you might have been — and they brought me back but I-"

"But you? what's going on? are you okay?"

You don't answer, you just look around you, weapons and more weapons hanging on every wall of this room, being in a situationship with an exorcist you knew these were no ordinary weapons. You immediately recognize cursed objects, that's what they are. You start hyperventilating, sweating and shaking.

"Satoru, I'm surrounded by cursed objects —you whisper — it's all around me, nothing else."

You can feel through the phone Gojo's jaw and fists clenching.

"Listen sweetheart, you're going to have to find a way to hide until I get there, my sixth eye can't locate you and now I think I've figured out why." you walk around in circles until Gojo explains what to do, you start biting your nails. You turn around and see a huge corkboard, photos on it and exorbitant prices next to it, until you see a portrait of yourself taken without your knowledge, you get closer and see the sum of $2,000,000. You quickly realize that they know about you and Gojo, and that they've already put a price on your head. Bounty hunter, you're in a bounty hunter's house. Your phone drops to the floor.

"Hey! Are you there? Tell me what's going on? Y/N!" You hear Gojo starting to get impatient and mad through the phone, you crouch down to retrieve your phone. "They want my head!" — "What? What did you just say?", you start crying, putting a hand over your mouth to hide the sound of your crying.

"There's a bounty on me, Satoru, There's a bounty on my head, they want my head! They know everything!" you whisper with difficulty.

Satoru's eyes widen in shock, his biggest fear, his biggest fear has just happened before his eyes, endangering the woman he loves because of his place in the world. For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru doesn't know what to do, and it's making him sick. He can't even locate her because of all the nuisances around the house she's in, "those bastards have planned everything" he thinks, Gojo, who was usually always one step ahead, finds himself completely helpless in the face of the situation.

"Oh, so you've found my office, you know why we brought you back to us then" says the man in a totally natural way.

"What?" you reply, tears streaming down your cheek, you're completely speechless and almost paralyzed.

He picks up your phone "Hello Gojo Satoru" — "You motherfucker, where are you?" — "I expected your sixth eye to be more useful, I'm disappointed" — is he really provoking Gojo here? you think — "I don't need a sixth eye or limitless technique to fuck your face you dirty bastard" Gojo is completely out of control on the other side of the phone.

"If you want to see her again, alive or not —he looks at you laughing — come to the Shibuya mall at 11pm tonight"

"She'd better be alive, believe me" replies gojo, before hanging up.

He tosses your phone at you before locking you in a room. You have just enough time to send Gojo one last message before you have to hand it back.

13h32

Think of me once in a while,

take care Satoru <3

Gojo read the message and didn't even bother to reply, he was going to get you back and alive.

The manhunt has started.

WE ARE SO BACKKK!! he’s back, i’m healing right now actually👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 tbh i think i like this one, i wrote it while listening to breezeblocks x take a slice remix, magnificent!

i’m sorry if there is any mistake, i’m not an english native speaker but i try my best while using… deepl? oopsie

feel free to send me request <3

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