#and ive only started listening to him in may....................... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atlabeth · 1 month

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true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath.

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.”

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target.

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.”

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?”

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.”

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them.

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.”

He chuckled. “So you are free?”

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?”

“I’m cursed,” Luke said.

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.”

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—”

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.”

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.”

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.”

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.”

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?"

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?”

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.”

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.”

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together.

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.”

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.”

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again.

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.”

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.”

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?”

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?”

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”

“Really,” you said dryly.

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.”

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.”

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?”

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you.

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan.

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.”

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it.

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though.

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that.

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.”

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said.

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.”

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.”

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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judithhhh · 4 months

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better team (one-shot)

jude x gf! reader

summary : in which jude's gf is a fan of another football club and he gets jealous

you were sitting on the couch dressed in a psg jersey waiting for this week’s match to start. judes matches were often at the same time as psg’s so it was rare that you could actually watch them. you had been a fan of the french team since forever ; your dad was an even bigger fan than you and you had followed his steps naturally. too focused on the screen, you didn't notice jude walking downstairs.

‘’wearing another team’s jersey? what a betrayal really.’’

‘’shush, the match is gonna start’’

the man sat next to you, his arm around your shoulders. the whistle blew and the first half began with mbappe kicking off the ball. all of your attention was directly focused on the players, your eyes following the balls and exclamations coming out of you. you were really passionate about football, even more than jude sometimes, so it wasn't unusual him to see you yell at the players on the screen. your boyfriend found this quite funny when it was towards his team but seeing you so passionate about other players annoyed him.

‘’ mais putain, pass the fucking ball its not that hard’’ you yelled, already annoyed at psg’s incompetence

‘’they’re a shit team anyways…’’ said jude

‘’huh?’’

jude sighed when he realized you weren't even listening to him. he had no problem with you being a fan of another club but you were a little too passionate about it to his taste. he tried talking to you a few more times but gave up when you gave him no answers. he got up from the couch and went to your shared bedroom. he felt kind of stupid being mad about something like that, but sometimes his jealousy just got to him. the man stayed in the room, his eyebrows furrowing everytime he remembered the sight of you wearing mbappe’s jersey.

an hour and a half later, the match was over with psg winning 9-0. you were over the moon seeing your team win with such ease and was quick to get to your bedroom. seeing jude laying on his back on the bed, you jumped on him and sat on his lap before you started rambling about the game with excitement. you were talking about mbappe's header when jude interrupted you.

"well if he's so good, go date him" he mumbled annoyed

"huh, you jealous or something?" you responded jokingly, doubting that jude could be jealous over such a simple thing

"matter of fact, yes i am"

you burst out laughing before leaning down to kiss him. you frowned when he turned his head, allowing you to kiss his cheek only. you really thought that he was only joking but now you weren't really sure of that. you also knew that jude would continue to sulk until you comforted him.

"well maybe he's better at football than you"

"wow i see how it-"

"but you're sexier, and cuter, and taller, and more handsome and my boyfriend"

"if im all of that, why do u support him more than me"

you looked down at his annoyed face and burst out laughing.

"jude ive been supporting psg since im five, you can't just expect me to stop just because im dating you"

"im not expecting anything, just think you're too fan of this mbappe guy"

"he's the greatest player in the world right now, of course im fan of him" you said, knowing that it would annoy him even more

to your surprise, he just huffed before hugging you tight. his sad face was beggining to make you feel bad for him, even though you knew he wasn't really that mad about it.

"but you're the one i support the most"

"how come you're never as passionate when you watch my team then"

"that's not true and you know that. madrid is the team im rooting for the hardest."

"even if psg go against real in the champions league?" he asked

you were about to say no but stopped yourself when you saw the hope in his eyes. you sighed before telling him that yes, you would support real madrid even in that case. jude smiled and hugged you even tighter. you giggled when you felt his lips softly kissing your neck, signaling that he wasnt upset anymore.

"does that mean you'll throw away your psg’s jerseys?" he said hopefully

"baby i love you really but no, never"

"you're really breaking my heart right now" jude responded jokingly

you looked down at him, amused and pecked him all over his face. jude smiled widely, looking at you with those eyes that just made you fold. looking at him, you thought that maybe you loved psg a lot but you loved him even more.

a few months later, it was time for the final of the champions league. both psg and real madrid had won in the semi-finals meaning that you were about to see your childhood club and your boyfriend's club play against each other for the trophy. jude was nervous yes, but the boy could not wait to play them. he had been pestering you about "proving to you which team was better" for weeks now. you sat in the stands dressed in a real madrid's jersey, and was looking for jude on the pitch. spotting him training next to camavinga and vini, you smiled and sent him a kiss. he waved at you and pointed at the badge on his training kit, "reminding" you of the better team.

the match was intense, both team scoring two goals in the first half. you sensed jude's frustration from the pitch but you knew he was playing his best, he already had an assist to his name and his impact on the game had really helped his team to date. the first 30 minutes of the second half were goalless, both the teams were frustrated at this point and yellow cards were given to too many players. you were stressed seeing the clock reach the 80th minute until you saw vinicius intercept the ball and running towards psg’s goal. he made a quick pass to jude and the supporters expected him to continue running towards the goal. shocking everyone, your boyfriend went directly for the shot even though he was a good 40-50 yards away. the supporters in the stands and his teammates sighed, not even thinking that the ball would go in but it did. the ball was sent directly in the top right corner with such speed, you didn't even see it coming. you jumped from your seat and cheered loudly for jude, your love for the opposite team quickly forgotten. the boy ran towards the stands where you were sitting and did his usual celebration before pointing to you. you laughed seeing him mouth the words "who's better now?" and kissed the badge on your jersey. he smiled widely before turning around and celebrating with his teammates.

the rest of the game went on with as much intensity and a last goal from kroos. real had won the champions league yet again. you waited for the trophy ceremony to finish before going on the pitch to celebrate with your boyfriend. you waited, seeing jude doing a interview until he called you over to him. you were shy at first not wanting to appear directly in front of a camera, but the excitement from the victory gave you the courage to walk to him. as soon as you were close enough, he hugged you tight, lifting you up and kissing you. you giggled and congratulated him over and over again before he turned back towards the camera. seeing the little smirk that appeared on his face, you knew this man was about to say the cockiest shit ever.

"would you believe me if i told you this girl was all about psg a few months ago? look at her now huh" he said proudly

"nevermind, im putting on mbappe's jersey" you said faking annoyance

"don't you dare"

"watch me" you responded smiling

he lifted you up on his shoulder before smiling at the interviewer

"ignore her, she's going a bit crazy"

"JUDE PUT ME DOWN I SWEAR"

the footballer listened and put you down before wrapping his arm around you. you kissed his cheek and the two of you walked away from the cameras towards the pitch, ready to properly celebrate his win.

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REAL DESTROYED BARCA TODAY HALA MADRID BARCA VOUS PUEZ LA MERDE 😛😛😛😛

#football #football imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #hey jude :)#psg

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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seichv · 2 months

Text

❛ WITH YOUR MOUTH. ❜

clean up after yourself when you make a mess. 2.3k words.

contents: nsfw content (mdni), f!reader, daddy kink (mentioned like once), oral (both receiving), p in v, creampie, squirting, toji calls you: brat, sweetheart, slut, baby, etc.

note: i have risen from the dead friends ;D seriously though, its been a while since ive written... life's been wild of late and i was lacking motivation but im back on my zoom now hehe (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

you might have fucked up.

down spills the coffee that you chucked at toji, the brawny man standing motionless with a look of amusement as the hot liquid poured down his body, the sound of the cup tumbling onto the ground echoing in the kitchen. what exactly led to that? you may ask. quite frankly, you don’t even remember. it was likely another one of those days where you had a stick up your ass just because; with your bratty attitude leading you to get all pissy about every little thing.

and here you are, your pupils dilating as you freeze in place while watching toji’s expression. it remains indifferent for the most part, as you would expect from someone like him. that’s until his eyes trail back up to meet your face, and there’s something about his gaze that just shifts in a way. you’re gulping, your body stiffening in alarm. there’s a faint chuckle that escapes his lips before he speaks up with that gravelly voice of his.

“c’mere.” he tells you. you know better than to disregard him, so you start stepping closer to him. though just because you’re listening to him doesn't mean you’ll do away with the bitter expression you got going on, as it's still very prominently plastered onto your face. and these steps youre taking, they’re slow as fuck. you’re definitely mistaken if you think that he’s got the patience for that shit right now.

because of that, in a blink of an eye you’ve got your throat seized by one of his meaty hands, yanking you closer and forcing you to maintain eye contact. his figure looms over yours, and you can almost see some veins seeping through his neck. “you just had to pull that shit on me, huh?” you could practically just say that he’s spitting venom with the way he's speaking. you narrowed your eyes, sucking in a sharp breath before speaking. “well, had you not been a total jackass—”

“yeah?” toji cuts you off, his face lowering some more as his head tilts to the side, giving your throat a little squeeze. you've got some real nerve with the back-talk, and he really isn't in the mood for tolerating that shit anymore. he looks down at his drenched, coffee-stained shirt, his tongue poking out to lick the scar at the corner of his mouth before he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh.

“clean up the motherfucking mess you made,” he says. now, that would initially give you the thought of wiping the ground with a towel or mop, and maybe doing him the favor of throwing his shirt in the laundry, right?

“with your mouth.”

… wait, what?

your eyes go wide, and you're glaring up at the man like he’s got 10 heads. he doesn't look like he's joking, really. and that’s because he’s not. it takes you a hot minute before you could get words out of your mouth. “... huh? the fuck is wrong with you? clean the damn floor with my mouth?! what’s that supposed to mean, you gross bastard—”

“to hell with the fucking floor.” he interrupts. “i didn’t say nothin’ bout the floor, dumb brat.” toji adds, his fingers trailing up toward your jaw, taking your face in his hand as he turned it side to side as he spoke, as if he were trying to get your attention. i mean, there's only one other mess other than the one on the floor. the mess on him. before you could open your mouth to muster up a response, toji speaks again. “tch, yeah. keep staring at me like a dumb little girl,” your body temperature begins to soar with his words. “take off my shirt.”

you honestly cannot believe this man. you blink rapidly with furrowed eyebrows, stuttering like a broken record. “toji, what are you even going on about right now—”

“nah, sweetheart. don’t give me that crap.” what is this, the 1000th fucking time this man has interrupted you? goddamnit. “take. off. the. shirt.” toji repeats himself, putting emphasis on each word like he’s talking to a complete moron. you started chuckling to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head with a look on your face that read, ‘he’s got to be kidding.’

“yeah, no. toji, give me a fucking break.” you responded, snickering between your words, and ooh toji was just itching to bend you over the damn counter and fuck you till you’re screaming… to get those vocal cords to rupture. there will never be a single day where he’d hesitate to get you to straighten the fuck up.

before you know it, both of toji’s hands grab your wrists, almost painfully. he then starts walking, backing you up to the kitchen counter. once he’s got you pushed up against it, he pulls your hands onto his abdomen, staring dangerously into your eyes.

though you wouldn't want to admit it, you can’t help but feel a growing ache between your legs at the feeling of those shredded abs of his. his body is something different. toji’s eyes flicker up and down from your hands and back to your eyes, a smug grin laying across his face at how small your hands are on his big, muscular body. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, your tough and bratty facade slowly diminishing as you leisurely began lifting toji’s shirt, a satisfied hum escaping his lips at your compliance; though it took rather longer than he wanted.

you now have got quite the nice look at his abs, and there goes the throbbing sensation again in your cunt. fuck… he’s hot. “yeahh, now you got that mouth shut, huh? drooling and gawking over my body. hah, go on then.” toji boasts, his teeth showing through that damn smirk. you’re unable to hold it in any longer, your hands dragging toji’s shirt up as he pulls his head out, letting the fabric drop to the ground with your stomach churning at the sight of his bare upper body. you quickly kneeled, your composure flying right out the window.

your mouth latches onto his lower stomach, your tongue roaming along his skin. if your eyes peered a bit lower, you’d be able to get a peek at the growing bulge in toji’s sweats. you can hear slightly muted curses coming from under his breath, and you were being sloppy with it, your lashes batting as you looked up at him. your tongue started traveling upward, just barely reaching his chest until a grunt-like huff is let out from toji.

he now pulls you off by the hair, coaxing a small gasp for your lips. “fuck .. you’re putting that slutty mouth on my cock now.” he mutters, reaching for his pants before you take care of them for him, eagerly dragging them down along with his boxers, his girthy length springing right out.

without another second to waste, your tongue lolls out, one of your hands wrapped around the base of his dick while you slapped the tip on your wet muscle, drawing a throaty grunt from him. he loved it when you put on a show for him like that. you then take him all the way in, a nasty moan slipping from your throat at the way his big cock had given you a whole mouthful. saliva drips down from your lips, and you begin bobbing your head up and down, the lewd noises blaring in your ears.

“shiiit… look at you. fuckin’ pacified by this dick, huh?” his voice is gruff yet slightly shaky, and god… you’re obsessed with hearing his noises, how you make him feel. “one minute she’s yappin’ like a bitchy little brat, next minute she’s mmf— taking this dick down her throat like a dirty slut... tch.” his words had your pussy leaking, you can feel your panties beginning to soak. your eyebrows curled inward as you kept your eyes on him, tears threatening to prickle at the corners of your eyes from how full he was stuffing your mouth, hitting your uvula.

in the middle of sucking him off, you pulled up your shirt with one hand, just enough for your tits to show out. now both your hands begin to fondle with your tits as you continue to suck him off, and this draws a long ass moan from toji, watching you slobber on him with no hands had him fucked. you can see how his lower abdomen was caving in with each breath he took, and that's when he takes a hold of your jaw, pulling you off of him, your lips sliding off with a pop. you had him on the brink of cumming, and he didn't want to just yet. he needed your pretty pussy.

you lick your lips with a smile, standing up on your feet as toji hoists you up by the waist, propping you up onto the counter. he hauls your shorts down in an instant, a string of your slick following your panties and toji sneers at the sight. “pretty pussy’s all wet f’me, hm?” you nod eagerly, and he slides a thumb down your clit, causing your hips to jerk, which has him chuckling to himself yet again. “mhmm… relax yourself, needy girl.”

toji hikes your legs up, your hands hooking beneath your knees so you could hold them up for him. he gets between your legs, blowing on your clit and prompting you to clench around nothing. “tojiii…” you drag his name out in a whine, before toji kisses on your pussy.

“didn’t i tell you to relax? don’t fuckin’ ‘tojiii~’ me.” he mocks, finally diving in to your heat, his tongue delving right between your folds. your head immediately falls back, your lips parting open while lewd little mewls flee from your lips. he’s a messy eater, a mixture of your arousal and his saliva smearing all over your pussy lips and drizzling down his chin. it’s slurp after slurp, your body twitching with no stop, your eyes rolled back to your skull with your toes curling. “ohh, fuuck… toji–!” you croak out, your thighs shaking as you start to fail to hold your legs up, his mouth had you stupid already. as he notices this, he holds them for you with force, but throws him over his shoulders.

because now he's standing again, spitting on your cunt one last time before he does so. “keep those eyes on me when i fuck this pussy, you hear me?” toji says, and you quickly nod in abidance.

he’s so fucking girthy, his thick length stretching you like elastic. his veined hands grasp at your waist, his hips starting to snap into yours at a steady pace. he’s reaching deep, hitting all the right spots inside you that triggered the sluttiest moans from you, your back arching as your walls clamp down on him. “only now you wanna get your shit together, hmm? only when i stuff you full of this dick?” he grunts, the sounds of your skin slapping blasting all throughout the place. “mngh–! y-yeah… feels so g-good…!” you blabber, the tears you had poking through your eyes were now starting to blur your vision. his cock was just made to fuck you, he felt so damn good.

“h-hah… that’s what i thought.” he grumbles, the pace of his thrusts immediately escalating. now the next thing he does drives you fucking mad. he grabs your arms, pulling them up so that they’re around your neck. he then snakes his hands beneath your legs and now has them over his forearms, letting your feet dangle. he’s got you off the counter, and starts fucking you standing, picked up in his arms. a squeal breaks loose from your mouth, your arms clinging around his neck for dear life. “oh m’god, yes–! ‘m cumming, d-daddy!” you cry out, your body going limp like a ragdoll, like a toy just for toji to fuck relentlessly.

you can feel that coil in your lower stomach that's just mere seconds away from snapping. and he does this thing when he’s close, his jaw clenches and you can see how the veins in his neck contract. that gives you the sign to clench around him even harder, a loud groan breaking out his throat.

“fuckin’ milking my shit when you s-squeeze me like that… holy fuckkk, baby—” toji’s breathing is uneven, coming out in raspy huffs. and it's only a matter of time before you let out your final moan, a real salacious one at that. you shook violently, gasping for air as you squirted all over him, your orgasm hitting you like a damn bus.

toji’s jaw goes slack, his head falling back as he chases his own high, still ramming into you despite you being fucking gone. tears start to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation, your eyes barely even able to stay open properly.

his load finally spills into your cunt, coming in thick, hot spurts. he twitches inside you, before placing you back down onto the counter and pulling out slowly, his cum oozing from your hole. he steps forward and cups your face, pressing a kiss on your nose before letting his forehead rest atop yours. “you alright, pretty?” he murmurs, and you look up into his eyes, nodding slowly with a soft smile. he grins, wiping the tears that stained your supple cheeks with his thumb.

“you did real good f’me, baby.” he murmurs, his words going straight to your core, fluttering in your stomach. he then catches your eyes wandering away, staying on the ground. he then turns to look as well, and his eyes fall upon the absolute mess made of the floor. it was the coffee you had threw at him, now mixed with your squirt. oh, fucking hell.

“... well, good luck with that, sweetheart.” toji says, laughing to himself as you land a smack to his arm.

“oh, fuck you toji!”

#toji x reader #anime #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #toji x y/n #anime smut #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jujustu kaisen smut #呪術廻戦

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spideyhexx · 4 months

Note

OK IVE HAD THIS THOUGHT ABOUT BILLY FOR A WHILE BUT I FEEL LIKE NOWS THE PERFECT TIME TO TELL YOU

Have you ever heard of what taking and wearing a cowboy’s hat means? It means you’ll ride him

listen I’m just saying that has such good opportunities

xoxo- 🦢

yes ive seen lots of great fics with this so let me add onto that never ending list lmao

mdni - fem!reader

thinking about this that I wrote where you steal his hat, but what would happen if you put it on when you stole it? I love this dynamic, your relationship with Billy being a rather playful and tumultuous one. From your side more than his. For Billy, he was constantly biting his tongue to keep from telling you off whenever you teased him. He can’t admit that he likes it, so he just gives you one of his forlorn stares and maybe makes a snide comment here and there. He tolerated you. That was all. You on the other hand may be completely in love with him, but that wasn't important at the moment.

And you grab his hat from his head in front of the rest of the gang and plop it right onto yours.

Billy’s eyes darken in anger towards you at first but then he realizes what you’ve done and the snickers from the other men. You don’t seem to notice, your gaze only on Billy as you back away. To some, it would look like you two are already lovers and you just openly, silently, relayed to your lover that you wanted him.

Billy would rush over to you before you could react, grabbing your forearm and tugging you away. His hold is tight but not enough to hurt you and you can't help but giggle as your eyes narrow at him.

"What's gotten into you, Bonney? Finally wanna play back?" You catch the slight shake of his head and he halts, his grip on you still there.

"Do you know what you've just done?" You tilt your head to the side, his hat too big on your head, but staying put.

"I stole your hat, Bonney and I have to say, the face you made was quite-"

"Not the...stealin' part...," Billy trails off, his jaw clenching and he searches your eyes as your brow furrows. He realizes you're actually confused as to what he's getting at and he clears his throat, "You never heard the guys joke 'bout...?" Billy's anger softens for a moment as his shoulders lose their tension. He can't believe you of all people don't know about this. He thinks you must be playing some kind of joke on him like you always are.

You shake your head, "'m tremblin' with anticipation, Bonney. Tell me."

He narrows his eyes. "If you're wearin' a cowboy's hat you...or put his hat on you...you ride him," he says, a bout of embarrassment starting to flush to his cheeks, but he forgets all about that when he sees how wide your eyes get.

"O-Oh. I see," your voice drops to a softer tone, above a whisper. This tough, playful, insufferable woman that Billy's always seen you as is getting flustered under his gaze and now he really thinks he must be dreaming. You can't believe you've never heard about this before, but now realize your impulses have caused you to not only put Billy's hat on but do so in front of all of the gang; yeah it hits you hard.

"Well, 's a joke, right? So...," and you try to wrench your arm from his grasp, but he holds on.

A little chuckle escapes his lips and he smiles, "You're flustered."

Rolling your eyes, you give him a pout, but it's apparent from your still wide eyes and the way you can't look him straight in the eyes like you always did that you were in fact flustered. "No, 'm not."

Billy chuckles again and lets go of your arm, "Yes you are. The little cowgirl's actually flustered for once. Are you thinkin' about it?"

The heat in your body increases from his words and you go to take his hat off your head, throwing it at him. You can't deny the all too familiar feeling of heat pooling in your core as you think about that act with him. How you've thought of that very fantasy before, especially the days you'd catch Billy sitting with his legs a little too spread. Billy catches his hat, but he also catches the way you shift on your feet, your jaw tensing and the slight squeeze of your thighs. Billy almost curses out loud at the filthy thought that comes to mind and the twitch of his cock in his pants, but he ignores it, "don't gotta ride me," he snorts. He's trying to be reassuring, but he's not gonna let you know that.

"Wasn't plannin' on it," and you take the chance to lock your eyes back with him, an attempt to regain your composure and turn the teasing back on him, but your head is swimming in desire right now.

"I know, but it sure got you heated, hm?" He bumps his shoulder into yours as he walks past you, starting to head back to the camp. Billy's already forgotten about the gang and how they'll tease him about this later. All he can think about is how he's finally found an upper hand with you.

"Yeah? Well, I think you'd love for me to ride you," you call out to him in a sudden impulse move (a common habit for you, it's been established).

Billy turns back, raising his brow. He hesitates for a moment, wondering just how far he wants to go with this but he decides, fuck it. He walks back up to you, sauntering as he rests his hands on his gun belt, his head is cocked to the side and the smirk on his lips is one you wish you saw all the time. "Don't think you'd be able to handle it, sweetheart."

"What makes you say that?"

You cross your arms over your chest and he smiles, looking to the side out at the setting sun before back to you, "Cause even the thought of ridin' my dick is gettin' you all squirmy. How would it be if you were actually on it, hm?" He raises his brow, waiting for you to respond, but you don't. You stare at him wide-eyed, mouth parting, then closing.

"That's what I thought," and he gives you a look, raking his eyes quickly over your body before turning and walking away.

let's chat about billy, here :)

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undercoverpena · 1 month

Text

iv. a date missed is a date lost

joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands

chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.

wordcount: 4.8k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets) an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.

In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.

The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.

At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.

There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.

But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.

He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.

Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.

It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.

Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.

Too good for me, Miller. You’re too sweet for me, honey.

A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.

Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.

A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.

It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.

There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.

Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.

He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.

Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”

“Whatever y’tell yourself.”

And then he’s confused all over again.

Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.

You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.

A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.

He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.

Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.

Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.

And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.

Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—

“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”

Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.

“Evenin’ to you too—”

“—What did you trade for this?”

Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.

“Joel.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”

Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”

Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”

“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”

Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.

“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”

And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.

“I’d wipe that.”

“What?”

Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Will if I begin spreading it.”

He just pinches you on the ass.

In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.

An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.

He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.

Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.

The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.

The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.

The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.

Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.

He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.

Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.

There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.

There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.

A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.

Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.

He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.

He hates that he hesitates.

That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—

“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”

Strong words. But then, she’s strong.

He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.

Because you mean something to Ellie too.

Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.

Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.

We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.

Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.

Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.

Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.

Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.

It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.

But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.

Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.

He replays it.

Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.

He wants.

Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.

A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.

Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?

Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?

He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.

Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.

At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.

How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.

His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.

Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.

From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.

Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.

And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.

A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.

He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.

Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.

The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.

That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:

compromised, do not look fo—

Joel has never been much of a listener.

Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.

You. Joel finds you.

You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.

But you're breathing. Barely.

His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.

You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.

Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.

It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.

Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.

But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.

It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.

“If y’can hear me, hold on.”

He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.

That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.

“M’here.”

It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.

“Eyes on me—there you are.”

“Stop being c-cute.”

Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’

“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”

Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.

Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.

“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”

He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.

“I fought—”

“Know you did.”

Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.

"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.

"Did... did I get them?"

Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.

"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."

He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."

The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.

"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."

You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.

Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.

Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.

Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.

More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.

It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.

“Tired.”

Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."

His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.

"I should've been there. I should've..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."

“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.

Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.

“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.

“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”

Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.

And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.

“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”

Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.

A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”

Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”

Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”

Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.

Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.

When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic

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rizzkisworld · 6 months

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Sentiments - Nishimura Riki

Pairing: bf! Niki x fem! Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

author's note: me re-entering my uploading era 🤩 plz reblog/give feedback if you like this because it really helps writers continue and motivates them tyvm!

Your smile brought so much happiness to Riki's life. Whenever he was sad, he'd look at you. The way his emotions did a full 180 real quick. He doesn't know what it is about your smile. Maybe it's because you look so happy and pretty. All he knows is that it makes him want to do whatever he can to make you smile. He starts acting extra goofy around you, he starts giving you random kisses to see the way you get shy and look away (as if your cuteness doesn't make him feel shy sometimes-), he gives you random hugs to see you smile. He even tickles you sometimes even though you scold him about it afterwards.... lovingly though of course.

Cuddling with you is how he wants to spend the rest of his life. Having his arms around you or you having your arms around him. The position doesn't matter as long as he's with you. However, he does love it when you bury your face in his neck or chest. The way you feel safe when you're in that special spot. It makes him want to protect you because you're so precious to him. He definitely is a huge fan of back hugging you of course. He gets to kiss your neck, whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and rest his face in the crook of your neck. You can expect him to cuddle and hug you whenever he's with you, cause Riki don't play about his cuddles.

Pictures of you on his phone are his favorites. Everytime he scrolls through his gallery, all he sees is pictures of you. Some are secret pictures he took of you because you're so attractive to him no matter what. He has you as his lock screen to be honest. You're his model and he's the photographer.

The moments when you cry, though it hurts him (unless they're tears of joy), it makes him happy that you feel comfortable enough to share your emotions with him. He always wants you to feel your best and he'll do whatever he can to make you happy. But when you're having one of those days, no matter what the reason may be, he's always there to listen, to care for you, to help you any way he can. These are the moments his maturity really shows. He just loves you so much! (I need a Niki so bad rn 😔)

Play fighting with you is a must! You guys take it real seriously. There's three ways your fights usually go. One, he's the one winning, though you're doing your absolute best to fight him off meanwhile he's just smiling at you and admiring your beauty all while you're desperately trying to win the fight. Two, he's winning, but starts feeling bad that you're losing and boom, he either lets you win or it switches to you guys making out. Three, you're winning, not sure if he's letting you win or you just really snuck him, but either way it's good(Ive reference anyone?)

Late night walks and talks are your favorite! You already told him everything and vice versa, yet you still find something to talk about together. At this point it's nonsense and gibberish that only you two understand. You definitely get midnight snacks and meals. All of this is really just to say that Riki loves you a lot and shares so many sentiments with you.

Again it's greatly appreciated if you reblog this if you enjoyed! It helps put writers works out there and it encourages us to put more content out there~~

#enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki scenarios #niki fluff #riki imagines #riki scenarios #riki fluff #riki x reader

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redr0sewrites · 2 months

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I’m not sure if you take Helluva Boss requests, I know you take Hazbin hotel ones (I LOVE your Hazbin content, your writing is so ✨), if you do, could you make some Yandere Mammon headcanons? Tysm and I hope you have a wonderful day!

IVE NEVER WRITTEN FOR MAMMON NOR ANY YANDERE CHARACTERS BEFORE SO THIS WAS DEF A CHALLENGE, HOPE U ENJOY!!!

🥀Cw: yandere behavior, possessiveness, bribing, overall toxicity

mammon is the literal embodiment of greed and selfishness, and once he sets his sights on you, mammon wants you all to himself

hes the type to start off charming, sickeningly so, until his behavior slowly begins to become more corrupted and controlling

hes all about spoiling you, but not in a good way, he wants you to feel indebted to him

at first you marvel at all of the lavish gifts he gives you, but over time they become suffocating

he pretty much ignores your boundaries, mammon genuinely thinks he knows whats best for you

mammon does not take no for an answer, he pushes and pushes and pushes at your boundaries but turns around and makes you look crazy for snapping at such a silly thing! why would you ever get mad at him, especially when he spoils you rotten and treats you so well? (manipulation level 100)

absolutely the jealous type, at first he plays it off that he just "doesn't want to lose you" or "is worried about your wellbeing", but soon hes restricting you from your friends and family, making himself the sole focus of your attention

mammon highkey gets pissy when you aren't paying attention to him, and will try to coax you into paying more attention either through bribes or being ridiculously needy all of a sudden

he wants you to be his and only his at any given moment, and will even get mad or jealous of inanimate objects that hold your attention

he'd confiscate your phone or any social media you may have, he just can't have his precious jewel looking at other people, can he?

the more you begin to wither away and crumble under his control, the more overzealous he becomes

mammon can't understand why you aren't happy, how could you be so ungrateful? in his twisted mind, you're the one who doesn't deserve HIM

he'll make sexist, disgusting comments around you and will mock your discomfort. at first you think hes joking until you realize, no, hes quite serious

regardless of gender, mammon wants you to be his little house pet, always at his beck and call with dinner on the table and a pretty little outfit on

tears? anger? no, he can't have that. in fact, he'll try to pay you to shut up! mammon will give you gifts in the hope of getting you to quiet down, but its no use. no matter how fed up you get, he never listens. he might as well just lock you in your room if you aren't going to stop talking.... so, he does

if you ever try to leave him, be prepared for one hell of a break down

mammon will pull every abusive trick in the book- from gaslighting, to fake tears, to anger and outrage, he is desperate for you to stay, even if only to watch you crumble even more

if you ever manage to "leave", know that you probably won't be truly alone for at least a while. mammon has eyes everywhere, and for as long as he's concerned, youre his and his alone

hes def a perv too, but those r hcs for another time😇

HELPP IVE NEVER WRITTEN ANY YANDERE CONTENT BEFORE SO IM SORRY IF THIS IS ASS- IVE ALSO NEVER WRITTEN FOR MAMMON SO I HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE HES SUCH A SHITHEAD (affectionate <3) i might make a nsfw pt 2 if anyone wants me too- anyways hope yall enjoyed!!!

#helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #helluva boss mammon x reader #mammon x reader helluva boss #mammon helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n #yandere #tw yandere #yandere!mammon #yandere mammon #yandere helluva boss

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hikari-kaitou · 1 year

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Translation from Gyakuten Saiban Fan Book

What sort of person is Phoenix Wright?!

How does the producer of the trilogy, Mr. Inaba, view the main character, Phoenix Wright? And what about the character designer, Mr. Iwamoto, who voiced Wright's rival, Miles Edgeworth? What's his opinion on the matter?

Mr. Inaba's comments

Interviewer: I'd like to ask you about what type of guy you think Wright is. Let's start with his birthday.

Inaba: Wright always seems chipper, so perhaps he was born in the spring?

Iv: That might be why that pink sweater suited him so well (lol). What about his living situation?

Ia: I feel like Maya probably swipes the money he makes at his law firm, so Wright is poor. He probably lives in a really basic apartment.

Iv: So his cell phone is probably not the latest model, but rather…

Ia: It's probably a previous generation one that he's used for a long time. Like one of the ones with a green display (lol). He can't afford a new one.

Iv: He's very working class, then (lol).

Ia: I definitely think he is. There's no doubt in my mind. He's got no money. I don't even want to imagine a posh Wright (lol).

Iv: How mean (lol). If he's really that low on funds, then I imagine he doesn't have much money to spare on hobbies.

Ia: He doesn't seem like the type to be particularly interested in music, and since he's poor, he probably can't afford CDs. If he does listen to music, it's probably just whatever is playing on the radio as he hangs out at the fishing pond.

Iv: So you see him as the type of guy who goes to the fishing pond?

Ia: if he did fish as a hobby, I can see him doing it in a pond or something. He's definitely not the sport fishing type.

Iv: You make him sound like he has a typical working class, chill lifestyle.

Ia: I don't see him as the type to spend most of his time indoors though. He probably plays catch or walks his dog… I think that kind of thing suits him best.

Iv: His dog is a mutt, of course?

Ia: Probably a mix of Japanese breeds. He either found the dog abandoned somewhere, or it just happened to wander into his office, or Maya forced it on him so he ended up keeping it.

Iv: Last question: what do you think Wright's type is?

Ia: Probably the dominant type. After all, he dated Dahlia and worked for Mia (lol).

Mr. Iwamoto's comments

Iv: So about Wright's birthday, when do you think it is?

Iwamoto: Maybe in May? I think it'd be funny if it were the same as Takumi-san's. Maybe his blood type and birthplace are the same as Takumi-san's too?

Iv: Inaba-san had an image of Wright consistent with a working class guy, but what do you think?

Iw: No objections (lol). He doesn't seem like he'd spend much money on his clothes. At the very least, I think he has the type of personality where it wouldn't be unusual to see him outdoors.

Iv: It's hard to imagine him wearing expensive brand-name outfits, isn't it?

Iw: He probably wears jeans, but not like the vintage kind. He probably sleeps in a t-shirt and boxers. Come to think of it, Suekane-san doodled Wright in a sweatshirt once, so he might be the type to wear sweatshirts.

Iv: So what about sports?

Iw: Maybe field soccer? If you put the word "field" in front of a sport, it sounds more working class. Like "field baseball."

Iv: He sounds totally working class, just like Inaba-san's image. Do you think he gets together with a bunch of friends and plays a rowdy game of field soccer?

Iw: I wonder. Wright seems like the type of guy who doesn't have a lot of friends somehow. His only soccer buddy is Larry Butz, so he plays just with him. They'd be like "You play goalie next, ok?" They'd take turns doing penalty shootouts… jeez, that's depressing (lol). In contrast to Wright, Larry seems like he'd be more shy around other people. He probably doesn't remember any of those people's names (lol).

Iv: In terms of physical build, Wright has more of a swimmer's body than a soccer player body. His shoulders are broad.

Iw: Suekane-san drew him pretty burly in the first game, didn't she? I tried to keep that image when I drew him. But if you really want to know what Wright's body type is like, you can find out by having Takumi-san strip for you (lol). I think Wright is highly influenced by Takumi-san himself.

Edgeworth version

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #my translation #atsushi inaba #tatsurou iwamoto

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glamnessaaumisc · 4 months

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FNAF/Banban Shitpost

Based on something @aarcade said when they were streaming Garten Banban IV in a Discord VC.

Update: They played Garten of Banban VI when it came out as well. I will hide a long-ass (and VERY cringe) text post regarding my opinions about the game (re: 95% about Bittergiggle) underneath a read-more link.

In my opinion, the game was pretty much what I expected from a Banban game. However, Bittergiggle is such an unexpectedly amazing and complex character coming from a game that only a four-year-old could enjoy. Not only does his voice actor stand above the rest of Banban's voice cast, but he has a really great motivation behind his actions, and you can understand why he does everything he does, both good and bad.

In Garten of Banban IV, Bittergiggle is established as a character whose raison d'etre is his comedy career. He was, quite literally, born to be funny. However, the world he was thrust into prohibits him from making any jokes whatsoever lest it literally be destroyed. This is so because Queen Bouncelia, the de-facto ruler of some LARP-kingdom underneath the kindergarten, holds the "Naughty Ones" at bay within her pouch and may accidentally let them loose, should she ever laugh. (Did I mention Banban's story is stupid af?) Thus, Bittergiggle is ostracized from the Kingdom by Sheriff Toadster, forced to take his comedy career even more underground than it already is. Due to this ostracization, he begins to question the notion that the Queen's laughter could lay waste to the Kingdom and even rebels against Toadster's self-assigned and often overreaching authority. (Note: Toadster is technically in the right by preventing Bittergiggle from getting to the Queen, but he also arrested most of the original cast of Garten of Banban for seemingly no reason at all. He's kind of like a Discord/Reddit moderator who flexes his authority by being a tyrannical prick.)

But eventually, Bittergiggle finally does it, the madman! He makes the Queen laugh...but that end-of-the-world conspiracy he denied so vehemently is proven to be true! The Naughty Ones escape and lay waste to the land he called home. When you next meet Bittergiggle in Garten of Banban VI, he apologizes profusely for his lack of foresight and pledges to help you out with fixing the problem he created. His life starts turning around. He gets together with some other characters - Banban, Nabnab, and Kittysaurus (I am losing brain cells) to name a few - and goes on a quest to find the Queen's scepter, which IIRC is a weapon that can combat the Naughty Ones or something like that. He even gets an audience to listen to his jokes! That's right, in one part of the game, Bittergiggle admits to you that he sometimes says his jokes aloud and the Naughty Ones laugh at them from the darkness. It makes him really happy, and he feels as if he is finally fulfilling his life's purpose. In fact, his newfound audience makes him so happy that at the end of the game when you're escaping the leader of the Naughty Ones, he stays behind because he wants to keep his audience and continue to fulfill his purpose.

The next (and last at the time of writing) time you see Bittergiggle is in the ending cutscene of Garten of Banban VI. The Naughty Ones' laughter was but a ruse, and when he embraced his "audience" they corrupted him and turned him into their thrall. Truly, Bittergiggle is the most tragic and well-written character in the content-farm-friendly clusterfuck that is Garten of Banban.

My IQ dropped into the single digits when I was writing this, and I hope yours does the same as you read my incoherent rambling about the worst mascot horror series.

#glamrock freddy #freddy fazbear #sheriff toadster #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb fanart #fnaf fanart #garten of banban #garten of peakpeak #bittergiggle

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jackiepackiee · 3 months

Text

“May I have this dance?”

Chuuya x reader

(ft. The Flags)

Warnings - none

Type - Fluff

Word Count - 798

A song for you by Donny Hathaway. The slow jazz filled every inch of the old world pool hall, seducing the ears of every resident that found themselves inside. There were only seven, but that's how it always was. Every other night, when no missions were to be had. Albatross, drinking some fruit-based cocktail while teasing Chuuya. The latter gritting his teeth at his friend, although any passersby would think he hates him. Iceman enjoyed the music, as well as Doc as he both sipped on some heavy whisky. Pianoman and Lippmann were in a very intense game of pool, tied the entire run. Then, you. Changing the record to some more up beat jazz.

“We should dance! Doesn’t that sound fun?” You had always been rather energetic with a bit of alcohol in your system. It’s not like this place had a limit or carded anyone.

Lippmann looked up at you, a bit surprised. “Dance? Since when did you dance?”

“Since forever! Come on~ I love dancing, it’s only natural.” She explained.

On the other end of the hall Albatross teased Chuuya’s hair, before whispering into his ear.

“Go dance with her, you know you wanna~”

You didn’t realize this teasing, thinking Chuuya’s red cheeks were only from some overly expensive wine. Little did you know he hadn’t had a sip all night.

“No way! Anyways she’s talking to Lippmann, I don’t wanna bother her.” Chuuya said, pushing away Albatross. Not enough to hurt him of course.

Lippmann was having the same idea, no way he’d pass the opportunity up to play matchmaker.

“Very well then. Hmm, I’m not sure… you shouldn’t dance with Doc, wouldn’t wanna knock over his IV.”

Pianoman joined in, putting his pool stick down.

“And not Iceman, he’s a whole lot bigger than you with all that muscle.”

Pianoman said, easily concealing his playfulness.

Doc leaned into the trio of you, Lippmann, and Pianoman.

“And not Albatross, I’d bet he has two left feet.”

You.. you were not understanding what this was leading to. But still giggled at Doc’s little joke. Luckily Albatross couldn’t hear.

“Well, then who? You, Lippmann?”

Did she have to be so dense?

“No! I mean uh- I’m not very good at dancing, and neither is Pianoman!” Lippmann tried to turn it on Chuuya.

“But Pianoman, I’ve seen you dance on a mission before?” She spoke, curious as to why it was said he couldn’t dance. He shook his head, lying for a good cause.

Albatross walked over before she could ask any more questions, Chuuya in tow.

“You know, Chuuya could dance with you! Isn’t that right?”

She perked up, happy someone would dance with her. She smiled, and he melted. How could he ever say no to her?

“Sure… will you dance with me?”

He asked, gentlemanly as he always was with her.

Iceman, quiet as he always was, was still listening. He picked a record, it was from New Orleans. Jazzy and fast pace, probably from the 1930’s. He knew she loved this style. Swing dancing… Chuuya was in for an absolute treat, as well as the rest of the flags. Since they knew damn well he’d be faking it till he made it.

“Of course I’ll dance with you! Let’s go!”

She took his gloved hand in hers. It was surprisingly soft leather, though the real hand would be much nicer to hold and feel. Even if neither would admit it.

“You ready, Chuu?” God, his heart would give out if she called him that nickname ever again. But, he wouldn’t complain. What a lovely way to die that would be. Damn it, he got distracted.

“Chuuya? Ready?”

She was so patient.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Umm.. what do I do?”

She laughed, not in a mean way. It was cute, that’s what he thought anyway.

“Sorry sorry.. we can start with the basics. Okay, hands in mine.”

He took her hands. Unbeknownst to her, the flags gave him grins and thumbs up. “Your nails… They are painted red. That’s my favorite color, they’re lovely.”

“It is? Well isn’t that perfect, and thank you.”

She started to sway to the music. He followed suit, thanking his past self for learning how to keep rhythm.

“Can I spin you?”

She agreed, spinning while holding his hand. She was smiling, eyes beaming while looking into his. Was she?… she had her doubts before, but she definitely loved him.

Iceman, with his knowledge of records, changed the music to play a slower song. Meaning Chuuya could hold her close. He did not need five wingmen.

He pulled her closer by the waist.

“The music slowed down, so we should too.”

“Since when did you know about dance?~”

He made a faux annoyed expression.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Part two?

#chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya stormbringer #bsd stormbringer #16!chuuya #albatrossxreader #iceman x reader #doc x reader #lippmannxreader #pianomanxreader #bungou stray dogs stormbringer

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fallingdownhell · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your writing! :D Ive never made a request before so i hope i am in the right place haha. I'm being completely self-indulgent here... but could I get Kaeya, Wanderer, Tighnari, or Diluc ( or anyone else you may want to write for) fluff with a reader who is sweet and kind? Like they dont have a mean bone in their body, constantly compliment their s/o, cook them cute breakfast pancakes in the shape of a heart, bunny or with a smiley face,,, wear clothes that match theirs/clothes in their favorite color. Just super pure wholesome relationship shenanigans. :3 Thank you!! I hope this all made sense. And if you'd rather not write this then that's totally okay!!

First of, thank you so much for saying that. It really means a lot to me<3

Second, you're fine, it made perfect sense. I don't usually write a lot of fluff, even though I adore it, so I don't know if I'm any good at it.

But I gave it my all, so I hope something good did come out of it.

Characters Included: Diluc, Tighnari, Wanderer, Kaeya

Content: just pure fluff, nothing to worry about

Word count: 2,1k words

Thank you so much for your request. Hope you enjoy<3

Diluc

Your sweet and caring personality is a stark contrast to Diluc's own rough and closed of one, so I feel like at first, it would be a bit too much for him

He definitely has to get used to it first

He can't remember the last time he was showered in compliments that didn't regard his strength or wealth

simply just you existing, complimenting his choice of clothes, his hair or anything else, has this man speechless and sometimes, even blushing

and if you ever were to give him a... riskier compliment.. hope you enjoy watching a malfunctioning Diluc right in front of you

his face would explode in all shades of red, stuttering like crazy, trying to process what you just said

Diluc can take a bit of teasing, but don't take it too far with him or he will combust on the spot

the relationship with you also greatly improved his communication skill. He is still rather reserved and quiet, but he is a good listener and great at remembering stuff

over time, it gets easier for him to communicate about his wants and needs, what he likes and doesn't like

he can now openly talk about it with you, without fearing to upset you of feeling guilty about it, because he felt like that would be too selfish of him

everyone around you can see what a great influence you are to Diluc's everyday life

He feels much more at peace and doesn't look like he's constantly on edge, like he's about to murder the next person that comes into his line of vision

I feel like Diluc's love language would be quality time. He likes to spend time together, just the two of you. And he doesn't really care how the time is spend

It could be on a long walk, baking or cooking together in his kitchen, cuddling on the couch or the bed, he really doesn't care as long as he gets to be alone with you, no one and nothing to distract you around

invites you to permanently live with him in his mansion after only a few months of dating. Would be understanding if you told him that this would be too fast for you, but if you agree? He's over the moon, because that means he can spend every single second of the day with you when he's also at home

really grew to enjoy cuddling over the course of the relationship. Didn't see the appeal of it at the start, but now he knows why everyone is such a big fan of it

Cuddling is a must when you lay in bed together at night, he can't really sleep right anymore without you hugged close to him. He needs you right by his side

Diluc becomes more vocal a bit later on, starting to also give you compliments

overall, he needs a lot of time to settle in and feel comfortable in a relationship, but if you are willing to give him the time he needs, the rewards you'll get will be so worth it

Tighnari

Now, I may be a bit biased with him, because I love Tighnari, but I don't care

Tighnari would be a very attentive lover

he dates only with the intention of settling down and having a forever with you, so if you're not up for that, please tell him upfront so he doesn't waste his time

would take great pride if he is the sole provider for the both of you, since his instincts play a big part in that

he would take his time in a relationship, trying to ascertain if it works out between you two

feels very sure and secure in the relationship, but that doesn't mean that he never gets jealous

funnily enough, I headcanon Tighnari as one of the most jealous men ever. He knows you would never do anything to him behind his back, but he can't help his instincts. And when every little thought in his head just yells "MINE" he can't help but act on them. Don't blame him for it.

once he is sure that you are the right one for him and that he wants to spend his life with you, he would sit you down and talk to you about mating

he told you a few things about it and how he and his instincts work (because he is a hybrid and all), but he never went into too much detail

if you were to agree to becoming his life partner and mate, he would be so happy that he starts crying a bit

hugs you close to him and doesn't let you go for the entire night

He never thought that love and romance would be for him, nevertehless thought that he would ever find a mate in the first place. So excuse him for feeling overjoyed at the way his live is playing out right now

Tighnari's love language I think would be both physical touch and acts of service

he loves to pamper you and one of the best ways to do that would be to help you with household chores

every once in a while, when you decide to sleep in a bit, don't be too surprised when you wake up to the dishes from the night before being done and properly stored already.

The laundry that you washed and folded but didn't put away yet? Suddenly gone and neatly stocked in the closet.

When asking him about it, he just looks at you and goes "What? Am I not allowed to help my mate around the house a bit?"

Doesn't really expect a reward from you, but also won't complain if you give him kisses and cuddles for his help.

He really, REALLY, enjoys your cooking. Even when sometimes you make stuff he's not really into, he still eats it and every time finds something he does enjoy about the meal. But maybe that's just the effect you have on him as a whole..

Also, physical touch.. Tighnari can't go a day without touching you. It starts every morning, instisting to stay in bed for five more minutes for morning cuddles.

You're still cooking when he comes home from a long day? Hugs you from behind, kisses your neck and either helps you with the cooking, or just stays there and basks in your presence

He has to touch you in some way, shape or form every time he sees you, even if you just walk by him. He can't help it, just let him induldge, please

Wanderer

Now this man..

Hope you brought some patience with you, because you're going to need it

Before even thinking of getting into a relationship with him, you first have to earn his trust. And that's not something easily achievable

But, if you manage to do it and make him fall in love with you while doing it? Congratulations, he will be your forever loyal and loving partner from now on

He's still very bad at communicating, so maybe learn to read between the lines with him

He always acts like he doesn't like stuff that you do, but if you look closely, you can see the way he turns his head so you don't notice his red cheeks or how his tone gets a bit softer when he's embarrassed about something

In reality, he loves and appreciates everything you do for him

Even though he never fails to tell you how ridiculous you are for making his breakfast pancake into a heart-shaped form, he still quietly sits down and eats it, head turned to escape your gaze. He just hopes you'll never see how red his face gets every time

He once saw a stall on a market he was walking through that sold necklaces. On a whim, he bought one that had a single, indigo coloured crystal dangling from the string

When he noticed you wearing it almost every day, he felt like he suddenly gained a heart, and it leaped and wanted to jump out of his chest again. He didn't say anything but just hugged you from behind, holding you a bit tighter than he usually did

I think Wanderer would appreciate you even more if your love language happened to be words of affirmation

He can't even begin to tell you how much it means to him to get that constant, verbal reassurance that you love him and want to be with him

It's something he still struggles a lot with, not thinking that he's worthy of all the time and effort you put into him. But your words really help him, it starts to sink in that you're with him because you want to, not because he manipulated you or anything

As for the Wanderer himself, I feel physical touch would most likely be his love language

Not only because he gets the physical reassurance that you're actually here with him and this whole thing is not just a delusion or dream his mind came up with. It's also because it reminds him that you're alive and well in his arms, and you're not planing on going anywhere

one of his favourite moments is when you two cuddle, either in bed or on the couch, with his head laid on your chest. He can clearly hear your heartbeat like that. He feels safe listening to it and it is a safe method for him to enter the dreamworld without much problem.

A very devoted lover, although difficult at first, but again, the pay-off is more than worth the effort

Kaeya

There is one, very important rule in a relationship with Kaeya. One he will never, under no circumstances, ever break

Once a week, there will be a couple's night

During that time, the both of you stay at home together. No outings, no work, no going out with friends or family, nothing

Just the two of you, dressing up in cute little matching onesies, making dinner together (maybe have a little food war in the kitchen), cuddle up on the couch afterwards

Sometimes you play games together, other times it's a full on spa night with face masks, where you give each other massages and just pamper the other.

But the both of you are so grateful that you decided to implement this rule into your relationship

Kaeya's job as a knight can get rather busy from time to time, it happened on more than one occaison that he stayed at the headquarters for a few days uninterrupted. During that time period, you rarely got to see him.

Still, when it was time for date night, neither of you made exeptions. No matter how much work was waiting for him, Kaeya would put it on hold for this night. Because that's what you both agreed on and also, he really needs the break. He missed your presence and touch

Kaeya is another one who I think expresses his love for you through physical touch and quality time.

Precisely because he doesn't always have much time to spend with you, every second counts for him. To him, it does not matter how that time is spent, so long as it's with you

There could be thousands of other people around you, it could be on a night out with friends. As long as he gets to touch you, feel you close to him and have you there with him, he is happy.

Kaeya also trust you deeply. You're one of the only people he feels comfortable enough around to take his eye patch off.

Once you learned that his right eye is fine under that patch - except for a not so nice looking vertikal scar - and saw it for the first time, Kaeya also told you the story behind how he got that scar

Of course he is scared about your reaction to it, but when you lean close to him and softly kiss the scar, he realized that he never, not even for a second, had to worry about it. Because it's you. You are here with him, you make him feel loved and cared for. Of course there was no reason for him to ever doubt you

Wants to put a ring on your hand as soon as he can, but with how hectict his life can get, he would rather wait for it to calm down

But he knows, deep down, that you will be the only person he will ever love like that. And for nothing in this world would he ever let go of you..

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sillyyuserr · 2 months

Text

posting again at nearly 1am :P

another small analysis (if you can even call it that)

what im going to be talking about takes place in jshk, chapter 79, a quick recap. This is during the red house arc, and at this point in time kou and nene are in the red house, whilst akane and teru are at the shrine talking to what seems to be either a worker at the shrine or a family member/family friend of teru’s (and aoi’s in the far shore but shes not very relevant in this chapter).

after they fail to get something out of the “family friend”, teru exhaustedly lyes down and starts “ranting” to akane ab how hard his life is

and whilst doing this they somehow get to the topic of aoi. And akane starts to wonder if teru GENUINELY likes her. And i mean we can kind of tell he doesnt, but its still a little odd to see him act like this

does he like aoi? We never truly will know, but theres alot of things implying he doesnt like her (and vice versa) but im too lazy to go digging those up so just take my word for it 😭

but akane doesnt even look mad here??? he’d usually either bitchslap someone for talking ab dating her or even hitting ppl with a fucking spiked bat who glance at her

but this? who knows. And not to mention teru looks almost sad when akane mentions him possibly liking her. Almost as if he misunderstood his intenions??

This is very interesting to me, he looks almost distant, but not in the way of no one understands him or he wants to get away from everyone but in the “im trying to tell you what i mean but you’re not getting it” kind of way.

you see it too right? Pls tell me im not insane 😭

but why is he looking like this at akane? Well lets come up with a few ideas. one reason could be because he’s possibly “hinting” to akane that he likes aoi, although this doesnt make much sense considering he literally asked him that straight up and thats his literal direct response.

another reason could be that he’s sad akane’s brought-ten up her again. Not because he dislikes her, but maybe a little reminder that akane still likes aoi, and that he’s still JUST out of his reach.

After that akane talks about going to save aoi on his own since teru’s being a sad sack and wont do it himself, leading up to these 2 panels.

LIKE UHM???? HOLD ON

Lets look closer here 😭 not only does he have the most love-struck eyes ive ever seen, but also he’s blushing??? ON BOTH SIDES?? Also the way his expression takes up the entirety of the upper half of this panel shows us that this is kind of important and for us to really pay attention to it.

ive seen him make this face TWICE. Both times looking at who you may ask? Take a guess

I have so many takes on terukane but no one wants to listen to them so i go to tumblr and share with my singular follower💀 im not even exaggerating

One sided terukane makes me SICK 😭

#minamoto teru #aoi akane #terukane #tbhk #real

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mai2themai · 1 month

Text

-A good warior listens to his woman-

(A/N: hellooo 2nd writing and ive noticed that my writing improved! Please give feedback! This is also my youtuber apology video so yayayaya)

Summary: Neteyam wakes you up, you guys are about to leave but you don’t realize that your heat cycle has started.

(p in v, kissing, fingering, matching press, aftercare, just overall be cautious if u have some sort of problem with this type of writing)

Enjoy!

“Teyam?” You awoke to his face close to yours, not intimately but protective.

“Shhh, tìyawn. my sa'nu is near—put your cloth on, now. We are to leave in minutes”

you quickly reached for your own chest, realizing your top wasnt on. In a panic you grabbed the closest thing—that being teyams loin cloth. Woah, your mate was naked. Woah, you are the reason. Fuck.

“my tanhì, what are you doing? Give that back”

He said as the handed you your own beaded beuatiful top.

“Teyam, why must we leave? I dont want to travel. I dont feel well.” You looked at him, the faintest blush covering your face

“How do you feel? I can always just follow after them, we can leave in about a week if thats what you need?” He said as he crouched next to you, he put his hand on your forehead and then a worried look crossed his face, “How do you feel? your warm.”

“I feel like im in lava, its hot—no, im really hot.”He placed his hand on your stomach, causing you to flinch, “Ah, teyam! Dont do that, it felt…weird”

You could hear him hiss before he spoke up, “You may be in heat, your warm to the touch and very sensitive.” His words made you aware of how hot you actually were, his hand cooled down your core but it made you flinch as it somewhat shocked you. “Seeing as im your mate, i will do anything to help you.”

“Nete, its fine. Just a short travel, right?” You tried to stand up, as quickly as you got to your feet, even quicker you fell. “Nevermind, so whats ways that you can help me? This is my first mating cycle.” You sat up, the cold air hitting you wrong in every way.

“Well, i can..mate with you, if thats what you want. There is other remedy’s to stop your cycle but they hurt somewhat and are just medicines from the tsahik.” He said, “I would rather mate with you.” You considered his words, the suddenly it didnt feel like an option, you needed him, you needed his body, his touch, everything. Your own body was betraying you cause only a look at him got you so aroused.

“need you, nete.” In a flash, he picked you up, carrying you to a more private spot, all he needed was your word. You whimpered with each of his steps, sending a delicious vibration through your whole body. As you and neteyam reached the secluded area, he placed you down, removing his loin cloth and your own. “Nete, it hurts, i need you!”

“I know, i know you need me, just sit tight.” a few soft kisses landed on your body, kissed turning sloppy and wet. He landed a kiss on your mouth then he pressed your legs up and gently put his two fingers in you, “Do you like that?” He then put his fingers in you at knuckle length slowly pulsing them in and out.

“Y-yes, i like that. Please nete, move faster!” At your command his fingers picked up pace, your sweet moans filling the air. He leaned down to kiss you and he let his freed member touch your clit, you clenched on his fingers, making him hornier than before.

“Could i—nah, im gonna make you cum on my tongue.” He placed your legs over his shoulder and licked you slit, pulling his fingers out of you and pushing his tongue in, you let out a pornographic moan as he destroyed your clit. “You taste so sweet fa’ me? hm? Such a good girl taking my mouth so well. You dont gotta cum in my mouth but be ready for me. This is all just a warm up.”

“Nete! P-please slow down!” At you command, once again, he slowed down. He slowed down enough to have you moaning in displeasure. But to his suprise, you reached down to try and do it yourself, he noticed and pulled your hands away then pushing the head of his cock into your entrance. The moan that ripped from your lips? Pure ecstasy for him.

“Tsìltsan 'eve, your already moaning like that from my tip? I just might fill you up withs some babies, lets see you with a swolen belly, that would be good, hm?” With that, he pushed in farther, filling you with just half. He noticed that you were mewling so he started slower, in…out…in…out, it was torture.

“Nghh, nete! Stop! Pull out!” This came as a shock to him, but he listened. He pulled out and fisted his cock. “klltxeykay, i will show you what i want.” (klltxeykay means lay down) As he laid down, you climbed on top of him. Slowly you pushed im in you. He whimpered. For the first time that you have heard, he whimpered. You could cum to whatever noise he made but this alone had you more wet than you’ve ever been. You grabbed your braid, and he grabbed his, as you rode him he connected them, the pleasure making him cum deep inside afterwords.

How did you get in this position? Like this, you would be willing to have a million babies if this is what the sex felt like. You were fully aware of every little thing. In this position, your knees were almost at your head, folded like a blanket. Your ankles were barley touching his shoulders, whole body shivers of pleasure making your legs wobble.

“Ne-Nete! gonna cum!”

“Again? I must be making my prrnen feel so good. Cum with me.” After that was pure chaos, your whole body tensed and un tensed, ultimately knocking you out. Neteyam didn’t realize at first and came in your unconscious body, as he did realize, he put your clothing back on along with his and carried you back, it already being nightfall.

Once you came to, you were on a ikran, neteyam flush to your back and your head supported by his arm. You were leaving the forest to find a new home. Neteyam handed you a small flask of water, some fruits too. Since you were airborne, some better after care would have to wait.

You were okay with that.

#neteyam smut #new author #smut #neteyam x reader #teehee 😋

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