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wosoamazing · 2 months

Text

Gone

Summary: Based on this request.

Warnings: Mentions of Death

A/N: This is shorter than I would've liked, and I don't know it I really hit the mark with it. But hopefully you all like it, I also don't know why I had such troubles getting it finished but I did, also thank you to the wonderful anon who helped me with ideas. :)

You were sitting in the locker room when your phone rang, it was your Mum, she never called, she hates you, it must be an accident, you let it go to voicemail, however she rang again.

“Sorry it's my Mum, I should take it,” Alexia nodded but you knew deep down she would be confused.

“I’ve got some good news,” she cackled, “Well I guess you won’t think it's good news, your father is dead, he was hit by a car.” She hung up. Your dad was your number one supporter, he gave up so much for you, you really didn’t want to go to Barça and leave him but you did, you spoke to him every night, just last night he was discussing your game today with you.

“Everything okay,” Alexia asked as you walked back in. Alexia found out about your situation one night and took you under her wing, she became like a mother figure to you, so you knew it would be a struggle to hide this from her.

“Yep,” you said, putting up a strong fake front, hoping she believed it.

“Okay,” she replied with a weak smile, you just hoped she had believed you.

This match was for your Dad, you were going to play for him.

In the 80th minute of the game you took a corner, and for the third time that match you had managed to hit the back of the net, you had just made a hat-trick, as you run to your team to celebrate you kiss your hand and put it to your heart whilst pointing to the sky, a celebration that wouldn’t have been understood by a single person in that stadium.

When the whistle blew, you felt a weight drop on you, as a single tear rolled down your cheek, you immediately panicked, you couldn’t break, you couldn’t break here, in front of thousands of people and your team. So you ran, you sprinted down the tunnel and into the locker room, quickly grabbing your bag before heading straight to your car, the press wasn't there yet thankfully. You ignored Alexia’s cries of your name as she followed after you trying to get you to stop, but you didn't. You jumped into your car and drove off, you could see defeated Alexia in your rearview mirror, as she dragged her feet walking back into the stadium.

_____

You were sitting on your couch, just staring blankly at a spot on your wall, you felt nothing, no emotions, you were just sitting there and starting. Until your ‘peace’ was disturbed by a pounding at the door. You got up and walked towards the door.

You opened the door and saw Alexia standing there, Mapi and Ingrid were behind her.

“Y/N, why did you leave early, you know that is not on, Jonatan is not happy with you, why did you go? You better have a very good excuse.” She yelled at you, you didn’t reply, just stood there giving her your blank stare.

“Bebita?” she says furrowing her brow, growing slightly concerned. You felt hot tears start to prick in your eyes, you felt your throat tighten at the emotion. You opened your mouth trying to say something, anything, but all that left was a choked sob, your knees buckled under you as you collapsed onto the floor, Alexia quickly responded by scooping you up, and sitting on the couch, placing you in her lap. You curled into a ball, trying to hide away from the world.

Alexia held you tightly, rocking slightly as she whispered reassuring words into your ear, sobs wracked your body as the reality of what had happened started to sink deeper in, breaking your heart more with every minute, your body was shaking, your breath was shallow and rapid, soon you felt dizzy.

“Y/N/N, can you take some deep breaths? Follow my lead.” You took a few deep breaths with Alexia.

“What’s wrong?” Alexia asked you, voice laced with concern.

“H-he’s, h-he’s d-de-dead.” You managed to stutter out between sobs.

“Oh Bebita, I’m so sorry, is that why she called?” you nodded, “Why didn’t you tell us?” You just shrugged, you didn’t want to respond to her, you didn’t want to admit why, but she knew and you knew she knew, but you still didn't want to actually admit it and say it out loud. With a tender touch Alexia lifted your head, your gaze met hers, you knew she would feel bad about herself for the reason so you continued to stay silent. “Amor, you can tell us anything.”

“I-I I didn’t want to be a burden, and I-I didn’t want to bring anything up for you before the game” you admitted with a quiet voice before letting out a shaky breath.

“Amor, you could never be a burden to us, you are familia, our familia, and never feel like you need to protect me Amor. It’s my job to protect you, and look out for you, even more so now. I promise you, we will never judge you, we all love you. Never not tell us something that is hurting you, por favour.” Her voice was unwavering, you nodded, Mapi and Ingrid came to sit next to you and Alexia.

“We will always care about you, you can tell us anything, any time no matter how big or small.” Ingrid told you and the other two nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small sniffle, Alexia didn't say anything, she just placed a kiss on your forehead.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #arsenal wfc #barca femeni #barcelona femeni

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lovewithmary · 5 months

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Listen, and hear me out on this request, have you considered writing one where Max wants to cook for reader, to try and be a good romantic boyfriend, except he's shit at cooking, so he calls up Lando, minor minor minooor issue Lando has been buying takeout and taking credit for the food for years, he's even worse in a kitchen than Max is. But Max doesn't know that

reader finally comes home, and who doesn't love seeing a firetruck pulled up outside of your apartment complex because your boyfriend and his friend can't cook

hope you find this as funny as i do, have a good weekend :)

COOKING DISASTER — MV1

summary: In an effort to try and be a good boyfriend to you, Max tries to cook up a romantic meal for the two of you. Except, he's shit at cooking. So, he enlists the help of Lando, who has been bragging and posting about his cooking on his Close Friends Stories for a year now. There's just one problem: it's all fake. And what do you get when you have Max and Lando trying to cook? A visit from the firefighters to your house, of course.

masterlist

warnings: use of you

notes: first request WOOO. this request was so fun to write, so thank you for requesting! I tried to make it funny so I hope it's funny?? idk

"Lando, you have to do it. You agreed to help me cook,"

"But it's fish. I hate fish," he replied, pointing at the fish as if Max didn't know there was a fish in his own kitchen.

"Y/N's favorite dish has fish in it," Max told Lando, already sounding as if he was exhausted with cooking even if they hadn't even started yet.

"And you're still dating her?" Lando questioned, and Max had to resist punching him.

"Lando."

"Alright, I'll help cook the fish but I hope you know I don't like it," he informed Max.

"Really? I didn't even notice," Max said sarcastically.

Max then decides he is going to take charge of dealing with the fish since Lando's one step closer to walking out if he's the one who does it. As he is looking through the recipe on his phone, he notices that Lando is in front of the vegetables.

He was only staring at them, holding a knife in one hand and his phone in the other but nothing was happening. "Lando, I sent you the recipe," Max told him.

"I know, but you should cut the onion," Lando said, trying to hand Max the knife.

"Okay, but you have to cut the fish then—"

"Never mind, I'll cut the onion," Lando said, taking back the knife.

Max watched as Lando continued to do nothing, switching between looking at him, the onion, the knife, and his phone in his hand. Suddenly, he put the knife down and looked at Max.

"I have to tell you something, but you cannot tell anyone, including your own girlfriend," Lando said, emphasizing how serious it is by making Max swear not to tell you.

"What is it?" Max asked, skeptical.

“You don’t know how to cook?!” Max exclaimed.

“This is all your fault!” Lando shot back.

“How was I supposed to know you don’t know how to cook?!”

“Why did you even ask me? Do you not know other people who might know how to cook? You could’ve asked Yuki!”

That stumped Max. If he was being honest, he didn’t even think about who to ask to help him cook for you, considering he was panicking and called whoever he called the most recent, which just so happened to be Lando. And he figured that the McLaren helper could give him a hand considering Lando had been posting what he had been cooking on his Instagram close friend's story for a little over a year now.

Only for Lando to admit that the whole thing was fake, everything was takeout put onto a plate, and he was fooling everyone with his story. Including Max. “Why did you even say yes when I asked you to help me if you knew you didn’t know how to cook?” Max questioned, clueless as to why Lando still came over.

"It all happened so fast, Max. I posted a picture on my story of my takeout that was just put on a plate and everyone was responding to it, saying it looked good. And then it kept on happening and next thing you know, I was considered good at cooking! I thought I was going to avoid, you know, actually cooking but then you asked me to help you cook dinner for Y/N, and if I said no, you'd get suspicious—" Lando started to rant.

"Lando," Max interrupted Lando, immediately quieting the McLaren driver.

"I'll keep your secret, no matter how weird I think it is. Just, help me cook, and don't burn down the kitchen,"

"I can do that," Lando said

Lando burnt the kitchen down.

Well, nearly burnt the kitchen down because apparently, he didn't know you aren’t supposed to put tin foil in the microwave and he didn't know what was happening in the microwave until Max saw it and yelled. Once Lando finally saw the fire, instead of trying to do something, he ran out of the kitchen and left Max to deal with it instead.

“I could’ve died,” Max told Lando.

“You’re overreacting. It was just the microwave,” Lando said.

“I was overreacting? You didn’t even know what was happening and just ran out without even helping,” Max said.

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“Call the firefighters!”

“Well, they’re here, aren’t they?!”

“BECAUSE OF ME!”

Before either one of them could bicker anymore, you rushed towards them, wearing your work clothes. “Max? Why are there firefighters— Lando? Why are you here? Were you and Max hanging out when the fire happened? Are you guys okay?” You asked, checking both of them for any injuries.

“Schat, we’re fine. We were cooking when the fire happened,” Max said, gently prying your hands away from his face and holding your hands in his own.

“Cooking? But neither of you cooks,” You pointed out, confused.

“Of course, I cook! I post whenever I cook,” Lando tried saying.

“Post? Oh, you mean when you post on your story about your take-out food on a plate?” You said, unaware of how Max was laughing and Lando looking like a kicked puppy.

“You know it’s take-out?” Lando asked.

“Lan, you can see the logo of the restaurants in some of the pictures,” You tried saying carefully, now aware of how sad Lando was.

Spotting the firefighters from afar, who were waiting for one of you to talk to them, you turned to Max and Lando, who went back to bickering about something. “How about I cook something? Lando, you can join us if you want,” you offered, but before Lando could answer, you went to talk to the firefighters.

“You can’t eat with us,” Max immediately said.

“Why not? She just said—”

“I don’t care. Tell her you’re busy or something,”

“But I like her cooking,”

“She’s my girlfriend!”

“Why can’t you be the one to tell her that you don’t want me to eat dinner with you guys?”

“And get scolded about how we should spend time with our friends? No thanks,”

“Well, I guess I’m eating with you guys,” Lando said, smug.

Max glared at him and said, “I shouldn’t have said anything and just left the kitchen,”

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic

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itsnothingofinterest · 1 month

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You know, for as much as I really don't like the AFO reveal of this chapter and how it looks to attack Tomura's agency; I do like how almost in the same breath it confirms just how much the things and people Tomura's been fighting for mean to him. And I need some Tomura positivity as a palate cleanser to AFO; so I think I'll join everyone in rightly gushed about his lines of being a hero for villains, because that part made me so happy.

Like, I have heard over and over until now how Tomura doesn't and never did care about the League’s causes or all this systemic stuff he yaps about, he only cares about the trauma of having killed his family with the quirk he was born with. And that's all AFO's fault probably, so once the reveal is done it'd turn out Tenko has no reason to be a villain, since as the cringelord put it, "[Tomura's] never made a single decision of [his] own".

But immediately after learning just how much he cares about being born with Decay, we also learned that his conviction is not so shallow. He truly did and does want to be a hero for the people the system doesn't support & heroes don't save; the unpopular kids, the petty crooks, the complete psychos who no one, not even Deku would give a real chance too. For as much as it messes him up to think about his past; the hatred was just drive, gas in the tank much like Bakugou's attitude or whatever anger Deku reserves for guys like Overhaul or AFO.

And it’s not even just the League either; the entirety of the PLF’s 6-figure membership came around to him, and outside of them we see this chapter a handful of other civilians rooting for him instead of Deku. Heck, even before this chapter we heard mention of people who looked to and supported the League in secret; online and such. Some will call these isolated examples, but who knows how many or how few people there are looking at him as their symbol of hope instead of Deku or Endeavor because they too are desperate for a change the heroes aren't offering.

Redestro once asked what Tomura wants to build. He responded he only wants to destroy. I believe the full truth is that he wants to clear the way to a world for them.

Despite what's claimed by AFO and readers who I feel overstate his impact on Tenko; Tomura really did care about the League, he cared about doing away with the threats to their lives & livelihoods, he wanted to be their hero and save them. Deku can reach his heart but no pretty words about holding hands could ever change that; and this core motivation never had anything to do with AFO.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I mean, unless it was. Everything else about Tenko was caused by AFO's manipulations in service to him apparently, why not his drive to be a hero for the discarded too? God I hate the direction that reveal is going, have I mentioned that yet? Oh how I hope expectations are subverted there.)

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #dabi #toga himiko #spinner #mr. compress #twice #jin bubaigawara #league of villains #lov #redestro #paranormal liberation front #PLF #hero society #all for one #midoriya izuku

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arcanesea · 4 months

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sparks fly

PAIRING: yang jeongin x reader GENRE: best friends to lovers, jeongin has a f!fans that annoys reader lol WC: 1.1k WARNING: profanity, jeongin is a little mean:[

"Special delivery from your 'secret admirer'." You said, making an air quote after slamming the coffee cup with a little too much force. You took your seat across Jeongin, huffing.

He looked inside the cup, pushing it in your direction, "You drink first, it might be poisoned."

You flip the ungracious finger in front of his face. Throwing a mocking smile. His so-called secret admirer (who lives directly across your dorm) has been making some inquiries over the last couple of weeks. Coffee, bottled beverages, cookies, even sandwiches, only for Jeongin. She waited in front of your door every morning, requesting you to deliver the goods to Jeongin.

When asked why she didn't do it herself, she claims that she doesn't have the courage yet. Along with that, she also asks you to play matchmaker. You would've agreed if she's not actually acting so annoying, asking for a selfie or even a photo of Jeongin with the stuff she sends.

"What if he thought this was all from me?" you ask one day, holding the tuna sandwich in your hand. Jeongin hates tuna, he prefers chicken sandwiches or plain bacon.

"Why? Do you plan on tricking him into believing that?" she asks back, confused. "You're just friends, right? You always said so, Jeongin does too."

Right… Friends…

Today was probably your tipping point because she's in a hurry, and you don't have class until later in the afternoon so you planned to sleep in a little bit. But persistent as ever, she knocks violently at your door, waking your roommates who had the day off, basically pissing the both of you and now you're just cranky.

"Did she annoy you?" Jeongin asked. He swirls the cup in a figure-8 motion, trying to assess your mood this morning.

"You think?" you respond. You took out your laptop, trying not to be a pile of negative energy. "I don't get it why she's so persistent, it's not like you're going to date her anyways, right?" you ask Jeongin without looking in his direction. Truth is, you're afraid that he might've said that you're wrong.

"Well since she seems to be perceived in a bad way by my best friend? Yeah, I think I'll pass," he answers. Your heart sank at the word best friend, but that's just the way you are. His hands leave the cup, tousling your hair.

"It's not like that, it's just… she's hell-bent on sending you this stuff, through me, like I'm some goddamn owl." You press on your keyboards violently. "And I'm still nice for actually giving it to you. I could've eaten them all by myself!" You exclaim. You had, in fact, thought about that. But that would make you look so bad, that even your roommates vote against doing so in case of karma.

"Are you not going to drink it?" you ask, eyeing the coffee. "I haven't eaten anything and I feel I could eat someone right now."

"I'll get you a new one," he said, standing up from his seat. "Sandwich?"

"Tuna," you answered, offering him a smile. "Thanks, you're the best!"

He grabs the coffee cup with him and walks inside the cafeteria to order a sandwich. He looked around the room when his eyes caught a glimpse of the so-called secret admirer. Well, he found that bit by himself, taking notes from the description you gave him along the time. His eyes met hers and he dropped the coffee cup on the bin. Not even taking a sip from it.

Jeongin hesitates a bit before actually approaching her. She didn't notice him at first until one of her friends whispered in her ear, pointing at him. He leans on the table, throwing a vile smirk. Luckily the cafeteria is so bustling with people that no one even notices the scene.

"Listen," Jeongin said. "I appreciate your effort, but you need to quit."

"Why? Did your little friend say something bad about me?" She dared herself to ask. Jeongin clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "Am I wrong to try? You're single anyways."

"Wow, you really got some attitude," he responds with a smile. "I can't tolerate an ungrateful person," he expels, surprising her. He's not one to talk shit about someone else, but when they mess with you, they're looking for a fight with him too (even when you're capable of picking fights by yourself, it makes him feel much better if you don't have to).

"You need to apologize, or you don't have to. Either way, this stops now." Jeongin said, "I'll pay you back if you want. Let's not waste each other's energy on something impossible to achieve, and that means the possibility of you and me together."

Without waiting for her response, Jeongin walked out and took his place in front of you. Handing you the tuna sandwich.

"You don't have to do that, you know," you said, opening the paper wrap and thanking him. You saw him approaching her table earlier when you went in to wash your hands. From afar, you can see his cynical face contrasting her shocked expression. You don't even want to interrupt, letting him do what he feels like doing. You trust him enough to not do something stupid or say something harmful. Counting on him to stay on course, which he did, just the cold-hard truth is all that comes out of his mouth.

"What?" he asks back, eyebrows knitting together. Then it sets on his face, "Oh… Well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"Why did you even grant her wishes? I thought you liked me."

You choked on your sandwich at his careless statement, grabbing your bottle before chugging the water inside, leaving him laughing.

"Excuse me? How did you even come up with that?" you ask. Though you act cool, your insides are trembling with fear.

"Well, because I like you, I just thought the feelings were mutual." He bites into his sandwich, looking at you with your jaw slightly dropped. "Was it not mutual?" he asks again when you didn't respond for a few minutes.

"Is this seriously how you're gonna confess to me? are you tricking me into confessing first? That's such a dick move, you know." You gulp your water again, trying to drown the nervousness.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Going down on one knee is definitely too early, right?" he asks, trying to play innocent. He puts down his sandwich, looking at you, seriously this time. "I like you," he started. "That should be enough confession, right?"

His eyes turned the shape of a crescent moon, a genuine smile on his face.

"Fine," you admit defeat, putting down your own sandwich before ripping the bands of friendzone by saying; "I like you too."

look who's posting double due to technical error:/

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mxlktxa · 10 months

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ʜᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴇʟᴇʙ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡᴇʀꜱ

ᴄᴡ; ɪɴᴠᴀꜱɪᴠᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘ-ᴏɴ ᴜꜱᴇ (ʀ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ/ᴘʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ, ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ/ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ

ᴡᴄ; 1.1ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ, 6.0ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

‘Famous singer/songwriter and artist, Ellie Williams seen with famous actress and singer/songwriter Y/N’

‘Songwriter Ellie Williams, leaving the studio with Y/N? Is this the internet's new favorite couple?’

“So, as you know, we’ve seen some things about you and Y/N. Is there anything you’d like to share about the two of you with your fans?”

“I wish there was something to share. We’re just good friends. I’m just trying to see if I actually want to get into the acting industry. She’s my—, like… I don’t know, she’s my decoy. My practice, if you wanna put it like that.”

“Look, we know this isn’t a very appropriate question and it’s been asked a lot. Y’all are fuckin’?”

“Who?”

“C’mon, Ellie! You and Y/N, of course! We gotta know. Give us the scoop, man.”

“Jesus, no. I’ve got my eyes set on somebody else anyways, she’s just a good friend.”

“You two, Y/N and you, have been spotted together a whole bunch lately. Is there any reason or coincidence to it?”

“I mean, no. Other than just she brings me with her to check out what the acting industry is really like. It’s… It’s crazy, honestly. Props to her for having the courage for that, she’s a fucking… She’s super fucking strong.”

Blah, blah, fucking-blah. I hated all these stupid fucking articles and interviews with the same dumbass questions. Why did people have to know my relationship status with someone else? Why did they care so much? Why is it a problem for people who don’t know either of us? Just let us live our fucking lives, good-fucking-god. Can I just live my life the way that I want to without being harassed about my love life?

Y/N and I had met at an award ceremony, both fairly new to the respective careers we had gotten ourselves into. We were both assigned to open the show and also seated next to each other. She's such a lovely girl, super chill and respectful. She also minds her business when she's supposed to and never bothers anyone. But her fanbase? I don't know how or why she deals with any of the men she's attracted, but good on her.

I couldn't even be mad at the people asking such invasive questions because here I was, in a hotel room with her, burying my strap deep into her, face contorting into such a wonderful face that I needed to be engraved into my mind. She was so sweet and delicate, a wonderful view to just gaze upon. She sat on my lap as I used my hands to guide her hips down and push my hips up into her. The drool slipping from her lips, hanging from the corner let me know just how much she was really enjoying our time together.

"Fuck, Ellie, I can't do this anymore, I can't take it," a rich whimper came from the gorgeous figure above me, hands gripping onto my shoulders like crazy. A smirk grazed my face as her teary eyes came to meet mine, begging for us to come to an end. I couldn't help but lift her ever-so-slightly so she would offer me yet another cry from those beautiful lips of hers.

I couldn't respond to her. No way, no how. I tilted my head to glance down at the mess she was making on my lap, chuckling at how crazy it was. One hand slid up to her slightly parted lips, thumb slipping in to press down on her tongue. Those lovely moans were now muffled, hips grinding on mine to create that friction she had loved so dearly, starting to now shake at the euphoric sensation she had been receiving for the past hour and a half.

"Oh, but you're taking me so well, princess. How many times have you finished, hm? It's a fucking disaster down there, y'know."

As much as she wanted to respond to me, we both knew she couldn't. She was sucking on my thumb at this point, those delicious sobs still detectable. Chuckling at her attempts, my arms wrapped around her waist as I shoved my face into her chest to lick from her sternum to just below her neck while my thumb had left her oral cavity.

"You're so cruel, Els."

"I'm cruel? You really think so?"

"Mhm. I can't take this. It's too much, I'm so shaky."

She was not kidding about that. She was shaking like a little chihuahua, holding onto me for dear life. I hummed at her situation, peeling away so sluggishly.

"My sweet girl," I whispered, "I'll let you lay down next time. I promise."

"You said that last time and had me against a wall for a full forty-five minutes."

"You looked so angelic. What was I supposed to do? Give you what you want?"

"Yes!" She pouted, though there was a slight smile in that pout she gave me. I shook my head at her, helping her up from my lap as she tried not to fall over and eat shit. I should really give her a break but... She's all good. I know she is.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide this shit anymore,” her face rose up only to hide in the crook of my neck, sighing softly as she ran her hands up and down my arm, “if only people could mind their own fucking business.”

“We could always just say fuck it and go public. I don’t care anymore, they already know.”

Y/N’s eyes popped up, all wide and happy, a lovely smile taking over the pout I knew she had set up just seconds ago. I nodded to her, sitting her in the chair I was in, grabbing her a damp rag and her clothes that had been dumped on the bed.

“But that’s only if you’re willing to answer some questions people ask.”

“I don’t care. As long as you’re okay with it then I am too.”

Shrugging, I cleaned her up, taking my time when I came to run the rag over her still hardened nipples and her cunt which still was glistening in the dim lights. Her chuckle brought me back to looking at her, speeding up the process before kissing her forehead.

“So,” I chuckled, “that song we recorded is getting released at midnight and you are going on tour with me. You think that’s enough confirmation from the both of us?”

“Oh definitely. If they need more, sucks to be them.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“What are we gonna do? Put out a sex tape?”

“I mean…” I smirked softly, glancing at our phones on the bed, “we—,”

“Shut up, Ellie,” a giggle cut me off while her hand beckoned me over, “you get an hour and a half. Go crazy,” her legs spread open, the heaven’s calling my name as I stared down at her glistening core.

“You know me so well.”

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fandoms--fluff · 1 month

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Hi I was wondering if you could do a Damon x teenage reader but the reader sees Damon as a sorta father figure

Enough

Female teen Gilbert reader x Damon Salvatore

Warnings: bullying, ed, cutting, I think that's all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on his bathroom floor, thinking. Just two weeks ago you got back from Denver. Being compelled to move there because of your big sister, Elena, is one of the worst things that's ever happened to you. You were miserable there. The empty feeling after being forced to leave Mystic Falls never went away for those long months your and Jeremy were there for.

Your anxiety went through the roof, not being familiar with the place. And having to make new friends and meet new people.

But the worst was the bullying.

The kids at the high school there were cruel. They took one look at you on your first day and by lunch there were horrible rumors about you going around. Which you obviously hadn't told Jeremy about, not wanting him to worry about you or bother him with something as stupid as that.

The boys would come up to you, pretending to be interested, but then burst out laughing with their friends who were behind them when you looked even mildly interested in them.

The girls were the worst yet. Especially the one friend group of nine. They would come up to you in the hallway, during classes, during lunch, and even after school. They'd harass you, talk about your dead parents that has somehow gotten out, pretend to feel pity towards you, basically anything to make you rethink your existence.

They even made fun of your weight for a straight week, and the body you once loved, became something you hate. You hadn't consumed anything but water and maybe an apple here and there, just so no one would question anything. It wasn't until Jeremy brought up how pale you looked and started watching you more carefully at meal times did you start to eat more consistently.

But only a bit. Not enough a fifteen year old girl should eat per day.

Damon had fed you some of his blood yesterday. You had gotten hurt from one of the last remaining hybrids. The hybrid tried to suck you dry, but Damon had showed up in time to get you out of there and healed the bite mark and bruises on you.

You looked down at your wrists where there were cuts just a second ago before they healed, a razor laying on the ground in front of you. The blade littered with your blood and a couple drops on the floor underneath.

The blood must've been still on your system.

Again you picked the razor up and slid it across your wrist and fore arm causing a deep scratch releasing some blood. You kept on repeating this action before switching to the other wrist.

You had started cutting your wrists when you had gotten back, not knowing what to feel, and what to think is true or not. Always gave those girls and kids voices in your head. And not knowing how to act around Damon since you've learned he was the one to compel you. Someone who you trusted countless times before. You just don't know what to say or how to act around him. You've just done your best to avoid him.

Which had gotten kind of hard, considering you lived with him and his brother. Safer there than at your actual home. At least at the boarding house you didn't have the lingering memory of your parents.

Everyone thinks you're fine, you responded exactly how you knew they would want you to when they asked if you were okay. No one suspecting a thing. Except for Damon, yes he hasn't been the best person in the world, though he does care for you a lot, he can't tell exactly why, but he does. That's why it was so hard for Famon to compel not just Jeremy, but you as well to leave Mystic Falls to go to Colorado.

You had grown close to Damon after he came to town. You met him when Elena and Stefan brought you over to the boarding house to keep you safe for a couple of days while Jeremy was staying with Alaric. He immediately took a liking to you. You would just sit in the library reading one of the many old books for hours and when you weren't doing that you would be hanging out with him. You and gotten close fast.

Stefan and Elena didn't like it at much in the beginning, but came fonder of you guys having a friendship as the weeks went on. Damon had sort of mellowed out because of you. Not a lot, but some.

Damon can tell when there’s something going on with you and all he has to do is figure out why. Surely it can’t be about the trip. You'd say something to someone, or come to him or at least to talk to him about it a little right?

Damon is sitting on one of the couches in the main room with a glass of bourbon in his hand and the tv on playing re-runs of old sitcoms from the 70′s. He was carefully thinking of a way that he could get you to open up, in the end he came up with nothing before going into a daze.

It was getting later and you finally stopped cutting yourself feeling somewhat a little better. There are some littered left over cuts that hadn’t healed but you paid no attention to them. You took deep breathes before falling asleep, hoping to not have any nightmares tonight cause you don't think you can hold in the screams so Damon can’t hear you anymore like you had been holding them the past weeks. Before that you grasped one of his pillows bringing it towards your chest, hugging it tightly.

You've been having horrible nightmares about the school and the bullying and the others finding everything out and callig you a bay for how you reacted to the kids there. The nightmares have been taunting you and they won't go away, they've gotten worse every night.

Damon quickly jolted awake hearing screams coming from inside the house. At first he looks at his surroundings, the living room...he must of fallen asleep here. Then he listened and soon realized that those screams were coming from you.

Stefan isn't here tonight, and he hadn't told you at least where he was going to be.

Worried, Damon vamp sped upstairs to your room, surprised that your door is unlocked. He got closer to your screaming and squirming form, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n....come on wake up. It's just a dream.......Y/n?" Damon slightly shook you.

That only caused you to swing around to face him, still asleep but now hyperventilating. Damon started to shake you more cautiously now, who knew how hard it would be to wake you up from a nightmare. He'd never witnessed you having one before.

“Y/n/n Wake up!” After more shaking and talking to you, you finally sprung up, awake.

While you're trying to calm your breathing down, Damon twisted to his side and turned on the lap that’s placed on the nightstand.

“Damon? W-what are you doing in here?” you asked the vampire, confused as to why he was in his room.

“I heard you screaming because of a nightmare and I needed to know you were alright” Damon said softly and gently pushed you back down so you were lying down again.

“No, no y-you don’t care I-if I’m alright or not” you said looking away from him. Not having anyone beside Jeremy and maybe a few times Elena comfort you after a nightmare. And this was the worst possible one for Damon to be there for.

Damon had a hurt look on his face, but hid it before reaching his hand out and placing it on your shoulder. The action making you face him with dried tear streaks down your cheeks.

“Baby, of course I care about you. Yes, I may not have said it, but I do” Damon said gently and wiped the tear residue off your face.

“You do?” you mumbled with a tiny pout on your face from your dream and everything going on around you right now.

Damon nodded and pulled you into his arms, you immediately climbed into his lap and started to sob into his chest.

Damon ran his fingers up and down your back soothingly. He was surprised how fast you broke and hugged you closer to his chest, wanting you to feel safe.

After some time, you pulled back to look at him with teary eyes and your hands shaking. Damon gently grasped your hands to stop the shaking and looked down to see an angry red patch on your wrist. Bringing your wrists up closer to see, he rolled up the sleeves of your hoodie to show all of the unhealed scratches on you wrists and forearms.

“Y/n? Why would you?” Damon was at a loss of words.

You looked at him in the eyes, mouth parting, wanting to explain but just can't and not knowing how to.

"Y/n/n, you need to tell me what made you do this. Is it from Denver?" Damon asked more gently this time.

You nodded slowly with tears running down his cheeks.

"It w-was bad. K-kids made f-fun of me. St-starved myself. C-cutting myself helps t-take pain away fr-from me" you explained, whispering.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you again. You relaxed a little into the vampire, nuzzling your head into his chest before you started talking.

"Why don't you think I'm pathetic? You can be honest, we both know the answer is yes" You mumbled.

"Y/n, you are not pathetic, don't ever call yourself that again. You're enough, you're an amazing person, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If anyone ever calls you pathetic again, you tell me and I'll make sure to raise hell on them." Damon explained and placed a kiss on top of your head which he's never done before.

That brought a small smile to your face and you mumbled out an 'okay'.

Damon is about to get up but you quickly wrapped his arms and legs around him tighter making sure he won't leave you alone.

"Don't worry baby, I wasn't going to leave I was just going to get into the bed so we can get a bit more comfortable than on the chair" Damon reassured you. You nodded, understanding and got off Damon, climbing into the bed. You moved over a bit so he could also get in. When Damon laid down, right away you cuddled into him, using a strong grip.

"Baby, promise me you won't ever cut yourself again and if you do have those thoughts just come to me and we can talk about it" Damon kissed the top of your head.

You looked up at him and nodded, "I promise" you mumbled and Damon smiled hearing your small words while you started to doze off on his chest.

"I love you Dee" You said right before falling into a deep sleep.

"I love you too, Baby" Damon responded, knowing full well that you couldn't hear him.

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zafirosreverie · 7 days

Text

Always been like this (Agatha x F!Reader)

For: @tryingmybest233333 hope you like it!

Wanda jumped, barely saving the cake she had in her hands thanks to her magic. She quickly placed it on the counter and forced a smile as she watched Agnes storm into her kitchen. She doubted the brunette hadn't seen the red threads that came from her hands, but whatever it was that had her annoyed distracted her enough not to mention it.

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

"That bitch!"

"What happened?" the redhead asked carefully "is it Y/N again?"

“When is it not Y/N, Wanda?” Agnes rolled her eyes.

The younger woman felt a little awkward for asking, but she kept her smile on her face as she allowed her friend to raid her wine rack. She really didn't know how it had started, or why.

Everything in Westview was supposed to be perfect, so that she and Vision could live their lives happily with each other without worrying about a thing. Sure, she had put Dottie there, but it was simply for the occasional drama she watched on old shows when she was a kid.

However, she did not remember this. A feud between neighbors, sure, in some episode perhaps, but a damn pitched war that devastated everything? Where had that come from?! Wanda had no idea.

The only thing she knew was that for some reason, you and Agnes hated each other's guts. You couldn't see each other on the street without starting to hurl insults that you barely disguised as flirting (but everyone could hear the venom in your voice), it was normal for indecently rude gestures to be thrown at each other, and even sabotage at each other in Dottie's meetings if you had the chance.

It was common knowledge that having you in the same room with Agnes for more than two seconds was an imminent catastrophe, and over time, they had all learned to leave you alone and try not to get caught in the crossfire between you two. But no one had been able to tell Wanda why you hated each other so much.

"It's always been like this" Geraldine had told her, shrugging as Agnes shot you annoyed glances across the street.

It was as if no one knew, as if you had simply woken up one morning and decided that you hated the brunette with everything in you and she had agreed to return the favor. Something had to give in. Even if it was for the sake of her cupboard.

“Agnes” she began cautiously as her friend poured her second glass “why do you hate Y/N so much?”

"Hey! She hates ME, so I hate her back" the brunette defended herself

"But why does she hate you?"

"And what do I know?" Agnes shrugged "probably because I'm prettier and she's jealous."

Wanda laughed, deciding it wasn't worth arguing with her friend, especially when it came to the other's ego and vanity, but something in her mind was bothering her. What if she was losing control? What if she had kept this fake reality for so long that its was strating to become real? What if people were gaining freedom? She wasn't going to get a straight answer from Agnes, so she would have to go to you to try to figure this out.

_________________________

"Oh, hello Wanda!" you smiled sweetly as the redhead walked towards you "how are you?"

"Fine, thank you, Y/N" she replied "I don't want to bother you, but, there is something I would like to ask you."

"Sure! I'll do what I can to help you" you assured her.

Wanda smiled gratefully at you, and the doubt in her mind simply grew. She, like everyone in town, knew you for being incredibly kind and helpful, always ready to offer good advice, a helping hand, or comfort to anyone who needed it. For her, it was almost impossible to imagine you hating someone. And yet, your smile turned into an annoyed grimace and you rolled your eyes when she mentioned her friend.

"It's about Agnes" she said softly.

"What did that hateful woman do now?" you asked with annoyance

"N-nothing…I think" she responded quickly "it's just…I just want to know why you seem to hate her so much"

You looked at the redhead in front of you carefully. She looked as firm and confident as ever, but in her eyes you could see that she was actually upset, almost desperate. You assumed that your fights with Agnes were disrupting her happy married life, especially since you were aware of the brunette breaking into her house to complain about you whenever she could.

"I don't hate her" you said, deciding that you could be a little compassionate toward her "I just resent her presence."

"That…isn't that the same as hating her?"

"No" you replied "I mean, I don't wish her harm or want her to die, that would be hating her, but I don't want her around me. That damn woman is capricious and spoiled and somehow she always gets what she wants. It's annoying."

"I know Agnes can be… difficult" Wanda conceded to you "but she's a good person, maybe you guys just need to get to know each other better"

"oh believe me" you laughed softly "I know her very well, better than anyone"

You winked and smiled before turning around and continuing on your way as if nothing had happened, leaving the redhead with more questions than answers and, if the suddenly cold air around you was any indicator, even greater desperation.

______________________________

"You're a bitch"

"You love me for that"

Agatha laughed heartily as she watched you pace around the kitchen, throwing ingredients into the pan as you smiled at her over your shoulder. Ever since you guys came to Westview to steal the chaos magic, the witch had to admit that your plan to have fun in the process made every day solving Wanda's problems worth it.

"How long do you think it will take for her to break?"

"I don't know, she seemed pretty lost this afternoon" you shrugged "although that might be because you're running out of her wine supply" you smirked.

"I have to charge something for all the help I give her" Agatha joked.

“I’m sure” you laughed.

The brunette looked at you in silence for a while longer, waiting until you finished making dinner and turned off the stove before walking over to you and hugging you from behind. She placed a soft kiss on your neck as you leaned against her and you could feel the smile growing on her face.

"So I'm a bloody capricious and spoiled woman, huh darling?" she whispered

"You know well that you are the most capricious and spoiled being in the world, Aggs" you laughed.

"And you are the rudest, most terrible person" she pouted "you fight with me when all I do is love you. But I shouldn't be surprised, it's always been like this"

"It's called marriage, honey" you smiled

#reader insert #x reader #imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #mcu x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness preference #agatha harkness #gay for kathryn hahn

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xxventiswindblumexx · 1 year

Text

Gift for my lovely smut soulmate @hitomisuzuya 🤭

Fatui!Scaramouche x Obsessive Fem reader

⚠Warnings⚠:Aphrodisiac usage, scaramouche being himself, degradion, yandere themes, dub-con

Scaramouche the 6th Fatui harbinger was a feared man, many horror stories circulated around what he's done and most would stay clear of him, normal people would but that's not you.

You know the risk of approaching him, approaching what's essentially an archon.

Who are you to even think of such activities? You're not much, an adventurer that's found their greatest adventure, the thrilling and exciting attempt to track down this Fatui Harbinger for yourself.

You don't even know what you'll say when you do get to him, that is if you're not killed instantly. Your fascination for this man started when you seen him once when traveling, you heard of him but couldn't believe how incredibly beautiful he was, his voice was even better. However at the time you where not asking for a death wish and made sure he didn't see you as he left with his agents. After planning for a few months you've successfully tracked down where he is and will be, it wasn't easy as he's a very secretive man. You packed what you'll need and headed out, Archons help you from being one shotted the moment he sees you.

After about of week of traveling you could see in the distance a camp in the forest, you stalk closer to see and the agents are a clear sign that a Fatui Harbinger was here, you just had to see which because running into Childe wasn't on your list of to-dos.

After a moment you seen him, Scaramouche. Your heart pounded once more, your body heating up in all the right places, it was like the first time again. He was speaking to some agents, about what you don't know, you could barely hear from the sound of your heart almost beating out of your chest. .. or maybe it was the adrenaline. Whatever it was the only thing you know is that you were going to talk to him, you'll take any chance to get a word in with him, even if it meant you have to get hurt... or die.

You waited for some of the agents to disburse, luckily for you he didn't like have others with him in that rather large tent he had set up for himself. Soon enough the agents slipped up, speaking to each other leaving you some space, a chance to dart to the tent without disturbance. That was what you did.

He turned rather quickly, his hands up ready to defend himself, it seems not many just dart in and he was ready to fight. However noticing you didn't have a weapon on you he didn't attack right away

"Who are you and why are you here? Speak now" he hissed with a harsh glare, you stood in shock in the fact that for one, you actually made it, you're here and two you're not dead yet.

"I-Im Y/N and... " you trailed off some, where you just going to say why you really came here, to fuck his brains out? Really? You didn't really think a lot, seeming your hormones speaking for you before logic.

He watched your body language carefully as he noticed you where far from a threat but still, kept his defense up.

"Don't tell me you came without reason, or maybe you're backing out now that you've gotten to see me? " He said with a snarky attitude, no, you couldn't back down now.

"No! I-Im not backing down, I came to.. " Speaking on your business wasn't going to happen, you was simply too nervous however you noticed with his cocky attitude he slipped on his defense, you took this chance to act, now or never right?

Your hands grabbing his face as your lips connect to his rather fast and harsh, his skin was cold to the touch. Of course he was taken back by this sudden move, sure he figured you would act but not like this, his hands grabbing yours and pushing you off. His breath seemed to have increased, his face blushing a deep pink as well as a bit of saliva on the corner of his mouth.

"What do you think you're doing!? " He was beyond flustered yet it seemed he didn't totally hate it. You couldn't respond with words, at least not easily only taking a step closer, he backed up into a table with papers on it.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute-" your lips once more connecting his as your body pressed against him, you've gotten too far to back down, however if he really didn't want you there you wouldn't be standing still so at least he didn't seem to hate it. This time he didn't push you off right away, kissing back but harsher as he flipped the two of you, your back hitting the wooden table as papers of plans went flying. His hands holding yours down, pinning them as he broke the kiss looking down at you, lust in his eyes.

"You're just some glorified pervert aren't you? Have you been following me, waiting to pounce like the bitch in heat you are" He hissed as he leaned down to you, his hand grabbing your throat "If we are doing anything here I'll be the one in control got it? " he spoke, his breath tickling your neck, all you could do was nod, earning a chuckle from him. His hands let go off you as they went to grab something, soon enough he put something in your mouth and pushed you over onto your back, a gasp escaped your mouth at the impact, he placed his knee in your lower region. A growl leaving his lips. He was enjoying this way too much to be honest.

"Now listen here slut and listen good, I'm not here to play games and I have all I need to make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?" He asked harshly as he used some rope to bind your wrists together before searching your pockets to make sure you truely didn't have anything to harm him with, only for him to pull out a small vile a glowing pink liquid "Aphrodisiacs? Really? " how did he know what it was? Either way you felt embarrassed for getting you even had it. Once your pockets was emptied and deemed not a threat he chuckled a little "You're quite pathetic arent you? How many did you think you where going to get me to consume this? " you were speechless now and he smirked as he pulled your hair to make sure you could see him "Soon you'll see what kind of authority youre challenging you whore" he spat the last word before he completely shredded your clothing, he had a lot more strength then expected for someone of his size, as you tried to cover yourself which was useless with your hands bound, he grabbed your wrists "Come on let's have some fun " his smirk growing, a low rumble left him "Just you wait I won't be gentle"

Your stomach and front side pressed against the rough wooden surface as your back end now out for him to see "Already so wet and ready for me, you really are a whore" he thrusts two slender fingers into your core harshly "I'm only making room for myself so don't get used it bitch" He said harshly as he added a third, not giving you time to really adjust, it was then when he seen a bit of blood he laughed "Oh Archons am I your first? Really you wanted me to be it? At least your have good tastes" pulling his fingers from you, licking the blood mixed with your juices off, his eyes glaring down at you. You could see how much he wanted to dominate you, to fuck you until you begged for mercy. He remembered something as he grabbed vile you had brought with you and took the top off before looking at you with a smirk "This should keep us busy for a while don't you think? I can already tell you're not ready for what you got yourself into" He flipped you onto your back before pushing the vile to your lips, almost forcing you to drink the aphrodisiac. Once done he discarded it to the side as his hands wondered your body, it didn't take long before the effects started to work on you, your body heating up more then ever as your breathing picked up its pace. You however had a small devious idea, an idea that can get you possibly killed but you held a bit of the liquid in your mouth, hidden so when he came in for a harsh you managed to push it into his mouth causing him to swallow it out of surprise, pulling back quickly to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. You could see the anger in his eyes before they softened, he laughed "Oh you dirty little bitch!"

Only a small smirk adorned on your face, now playing his little game, he pushed onto your stomach once more harshly as he he chuckled lowly "You know I thought about going slow at first, sure not for long but giving you some time to adjust.. " you felt his tip press against your core teasingly, you moaned out "But for that.. I'm going to go as harsh as I want to, to use your whore body for myself as my little toy" he said as he slammed himself in fully, bottoming out. You yelped and groaned in slight pain however the aphrodisiac helped numb it into pleasure . Your nails digging into the rope, you closed your eyes.

And he began to pound into you with full force, every stroke feeling as though you'd be ripped apart. Each one bringing you further to your climax, your eyes clenched tightly as he pounded deeper than you've ever felt, it' almost as if his entire being wanted to hurt you, as if he craved to be inside you as he continued to slam into you hard, the sound of a few men outside yelling as they thought he was being attacked only for him to snap at them before they could come in "Take one step in this tent and you'll all see your maker! " They didn't need to be told twice backing away leaving the two of you alone.

His hands gripping your hips as his nails dug into your skin leaving marks, you could feel small shocks of his electro through his finger tips adding more pleasure. His hips moving faster as you cried out, your voice coming out as whimpers, tears pricking you as he pumped in and out of you, each thrust sending chills through you. As he slowed down after a couple minutes and stopped slamming into you, both of your bodies shaking, sweat dripping down your faces.

"S-Scara-" A particularly hard thrusts cut you short of speaking as he growled "Don't fucking call me that like were friends, call me master" he hissed at you as he kept thrusting "I could fucking kill you bitch! Watch your damn words" Another heavy thrust made you moan and babble incoherently against the table

"I.. I didn't mean t..to.. ah... ah.. " you couldn't finish your sentence as he kept pounding into you, you were panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath, your head turning some to look at him, his eyes were filled with lust and anger, his teeth gritted as he continued to pound into you.

You could feel him twitch in you, he was close so close<br />

"Call me master! " he demanded, no ordered you. You whimpered slightly as he gave another violent thrust causing you to scream out loudly as it came "Nnnngghhhh! Master!!!" he slammed into you again as you screamed. both yours and his body trembling and sweating heavily as he released into you, still thrusting but not near as hard, pushing his seed further into you, some dripping down your leg.

Once it passed you where panting as you laid down staring at the ceiling unable to move or speak, your vision blurring as sleep consumed you.

The first thing you saw was Scaramouche putting something onto your neck, it felt like leather, and hearing a few words he spoke ".. my pet... "

#fatui scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche

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cld9writes · 7 months

Text

✩that tight little dress✩ - namjoon x reader kinktober #2

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

day two - roleplay

reader! afab!reader, fem!reader

word count! 1.9k words

tags! roleplay, wall sex, unprotected sex (don't do that.), dirty talk, self-indulgent degradation

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

The man across the bar is staring at you like he’s starving. Deep, dark eyes slowly roaming over your body, lips pressed together in an attempt to keep from drooling. His finger strokes across the top of his thigh nervously. The deep red dress that hugs your figure is drawing him in, begging him to come over and flirt with you. Begging him to come over and take you back to his place. He wants to get to know every inch of your body, to rip that dress off and figure out who you are.

That’s the storyline, anyway.

You’ve decided to try something different with your boyfriend. You wouldn’t have guessed it when you started dating, but him being into roleplay made more sense as time went on. You’ve tried tons of different scenarios- college professor and his student dying for extra credit, massage therapist, royalty and their favorite suitor, forbidden lovers. But never pretending to be strangers. It seemed a little odd to him at first- why would you want to fuck a stranger when he’s right at home? But then you explained it to him-

You get the thrill and rush of feeling like you’re doing something naughty, something new. But you have the guaranteed safety net and emotional closeness of your pre-existing relationship. Once it became less about strangers and more about thrill-seeking, he was a hundred percent on board.

That’s what brought you to this dark nightclub. In your tight little dress, in your light little heels, with your tight little pussy aching to be stuffed full of cock. But you haven’t “met” him yet, so that’s entirely out of the question. At least let the man buy you a drink before he lets him take you home.

The tall man practically glides over to you, standing a stool away from you. He waits for your eyes to meet him before

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it from me, but you look stunning.” He opens. You smile, heart fluttering now that the scene has truly started. You giggle, trying to cover up the nerves.

“Thank you! I wanted to look nice tonight, but stunning is even better.”

“For tonight?” He wonders. “You have something special going on? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m supposed to meet up with some friends.” You shrug, as if these non-existent friends are more party buddies than true confidants. “But don’t worry about imposing- I'd Much rather talk with you. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Kim Namjoon.” He smiles, sitting in the barstool next to you. “You have a lovely name, Y/N.”

You two continue to play the scene out over drinks. It’s fun to pretend to be these alter egos. It’s not anything special, but seeing how different your dynamic could’ve been if you met differently, or were different people, is certainly interesting. It doesn’t take long before you’re both slightly sick of the acting, though, and want to get to a different kind of fun. Namjoon breaks the silence first and clears his throat.

“Are you still meeting with your friends?” He asks. You roll your eyes, drinking the rest of your whiskey.

“No, I’m not.” You say, completely indifferent. “Why?” Namjoon finishes his own drink before responding.

“I was wondering if you’d like to rest at my place. I’d hate for you to go home alone, and I’m sober enough to drive.”

“Why wouldn’t I just go back to mine? Make you drop me off?” You say indignantly. Something in his eyes shifts. They seem sharper, more direct. Your stomach clenches at the change.

“Because we both know what you really want,” He whispers, leaned in right next to your ear. “And I certainly can’t let you go home unsatisfied.” And that’s all it takes. Within minutes, you’ve paid the tab and left the bar.

He drives you back to “his” place, touching you the whole way. For just a moment, he dips his hand down between your legs. He doesn’t touch you, mind you, he wouldn’t dare risk fucking you in the back seat. But the closeness, the hovering, the heat of his fingers. It all makes you bite the inside of your cheek and clench your thighs together. He’s pleased with this reaction and places his hand back on top of your leg.

He barely manages to get you through the front door before his hand has fully slipped inside your dress. He thought about you while you were walking up the stairs, but he’s fed up now. He just wants to touch you, to feel how wet you are for him. His long fingers slide over the slick bottom of your panties and he relishes in just how soaked you are.

“This worked up over a man you just met.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Shameful little girl, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be such an a-ass.” You snap, trying your best not to stammer. He’s not making it easy. He slips your panties to the side and sticks a finger inside your soaked cunt, testing the waters. The way your walls ache to clench around it tells him you need more. Ever the gentleman, that’s exactly what he gives you.

He pulls you into a kiss, the taste of whiskey still strong on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, grinding your clit down against the rough palm of his hand. He follows suit, moving his hand in small, controlled circles as he finger-fucks you.

“I can’t wait to go to bed” He huffs. “Just let me fuck you right here.”

“I don’t know… what if you drop me?” You know he won’t. He’s fucked you up against the wall pleanty of times. But you wanna hear him assure you.

“I never would. Trust me, I’d have to be one stupid bastard to let you fall. You’ve trusted me this much, and I know you’re aching for some cock. Just trust me one more time.” He slips a hand under your thigh, stroking your soft skin as he awaits your okay.

“Fine.” You sigh. “Pick me up.”

Without hesitation, he does just that. He hoists you up against the wall, holding you in one arm and pressing the two of your bodies into the wall for added support. After miraculously removing his clothing from the waist down, he taps the sides of your thigh

You sling your legs over his hips, finally letting him support your weight. He teases your folds with the tip of his cock, fat head threatening to break you as it pushes in. You moan behind bitten lips, almost drowning out the growled “fuck” that slips out of the man before you.

His thick cock fits nearly perfectly within your plush pussy. Despite acting like you’ve never met, it’s clear your cunt has molded to his shape. It’s like he’s been designed to fill you up and hit all those spots every time. The perfect cock, all for you.

Namjoon kisses you again, pushing you further into the wall as he begins thrusting. Because of the curl in your stomach, he’s instantly rubbing up against your g-spot. He fucks you hard and slow, desperate to feel each moan of yours vibrate on his lips.

“You’re such a slut. He spits between kisses. “You let a man you’ve never met rawdog you in his entryway? What a shame…”

“I’m not a slu-” You attempt to protest. He chuckles and kisses you, swallowing your response.

He drops his hands down to your pussy, playing with your clit as he fucks you. The double stimulation is incredible, it’s got your mind going blank as he pushes you against the wall against and again. You’re probably going to have bruises on your shoulder blades but it doesn’t matter.

The sex is filthy. You can’t stop moaning, you can’t shut up. Your pussy is sopping wet, and each thrust fills the air with disgustingly lewd noises. Your creamy cunt is dripping everywhere, soaking his upper thighs and dripping out onto the floor. He’s teasing your clit like he isn’t pounding into your stomach, like you aren’t already about to cum. You’re babbling, going on and on about how good it feels and how happy you are it’s his cock filling you up. He tries to shut you up with kisses, but he’s getting drunk off your ramblings and can’t stop.

“You’re shameless…ngh- fuck!”

“Mhm! Mhm!” You nod desperately. You are. You’re clawing at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get even closer. You want his dick in your stomach, in your throat. You want to be able to taste it from where it stands. Because his fingers and his cock have turned you into some kind of freak and you just want more of it.

“I’m g-gonna cum!” You pant. “Gonna cum s-soon~!” He speeds up a little bit, both his pelvis and fingers. You reach your climax, screaming in pleasure as you cream over his throbbing cock. He fucks you through your high, not giving a single shit about how sensitive you may be or how this may end for him.

Your legs shake and squeeze his sides as you ride out your orgasm, desperate for more and for it to be over at the same time. He’s still pounding into you relentlessly, and he grabs your jaw to make you look at him.

“You see how good that felt? See how good it feels to be a slut for me? You think anyone else could’ve given you that tonight? No one else would’ve bothered. But I took care of that cunt of yours. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir? Aren’t you ob- fucking hell- obedient-!” His hard persona is faltering, and you can tell it’s because he’s getting close to finishing himself. He can only take so much, but his hand falls right back to teasing your clit and swollen lips. He’s desperate for you to enjoy it for just as long as he does.

Your cumming has made it difficult for him, though. The extra warmth, softness, and tightness makes it feel like you’ve become a succubus, and he wants nothing more than to give his soul to you.

His thrusts are becoming erratic and sloppy. He’s chasing a high he’s far too close to, desperate to cum inside you. Desperate to defile that perfect cunt. His breathing is ragged and fast, he sounds like he’s been running for hours. And you still can’t get a single word out. You try. You try and you try. But the pounding of his cock and his fingers on your swollen clit make the words catch in your throat and come out and moans, curses or whines. Because all you can feel, all you’re aware of.

You two end up finishing at the same time. You reach a second orgasm, creaming all over his thick shaft. This is what finally does it for him, and he finishes inside of you. You feel your insides flood with hot, sticky cum as he leans against the wall to support your weight. His thighs are shaking against yours, and he’s trying to control his breathing. He swallows hard, trying to calm down before speaking.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He sighs, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s not acting anymore. This is much deeper, much more real. You smile, dropping your head in lieu of giving him a hug.

“I’m glad I met you, too.”

You come to an unspoken agreement to stay like that for just a second longer. Just until you can stand on your own again.

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

and that's day two. this one is a little more disjointed cuz i literally banged this out in under two hours. sorry about that. hope y'all enjoyed tho <3

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #bts #bts smut #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #wall sex #smut #kpop #kpop smut #sorry this was rushed it's literally 11:08pm rn and i'm sick #roleplay

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allerask · 6 months

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I think I've FINALLY got it.

I figured out a some-what definitive, sure-fire way to tell if someone is more of a Crowley, or more of an Aziraphale. Better than any B*zzf**d quiz could hope. (Especially for the girlies like me who are a heavily intertwined combo of both.)

So, after watching many reaction videos to the end of S2 E6 (don't judge me, we all cope in our own ways), I've determined that it all comes down one thing. That is, how you react to Crowley saying, "Right... And you told him just where he could stick it then?" etc. Basically, the initial moment of his rejection of Aziraphale.

Reactions I've seen to the scene had a fair number of confused faces at Crowley's response to Aziraphale's offer. Lots of furrowed brows and head tilts. If that was you, congrats! you're an Aziraphale!

"But wait!" you say. "I was just caught up in the moment. The possibility of it... For God's sake! The romance!!!" Umm.. yeah. Exactly.

Now if you, like me, reacted to Aziraphale's offer before Crowley even said anything. Well, I'm sure you already know where this is going. Said reactions include, but are not limited to, eye-rolling, face palming, repeatedly saying the word "no," and/ or yelling "Really?!" at your screen. If this was you... Congrats! You're a Crowley!

"That makes sense, though..." you say. "Why would anyone want to go back to somewhere with people that shunned them?" Too right you are!

Bonus points if you saw people being confused at how Crowley responded, and were then yourself, confused as to how they could be. That's what happened to me, and well, here we are!

If you're still not convinced - Crowley's and Aziraphale's - then think on this: How did you react to Crowley, yet again, pleading for Aziraphale to run away with him?

If you thought it was romantic and "Oh my god, why can't someone ask me that?!" You're Crowley baby!

If you thought it was insane and "Everything they love is here! They can't leave and give up on it!" You're Aziraphale my love.

The crux of the Ineffable Divorce - as said by many - is that these two don't know what the other truly wants. Almost more importantly, though, is that Aziraphale doesn't consider what Crowley would never want. Going back to heaven would be number one on that list. Under no circumstances would that be a thing Crowley would want. Even if it meant having a blessed existence with Aziraphale.

On the other hand, Crowley knowing that Aziraphale would never want to go to hell is supposed to be a give-in. Just as Crowley himself not wanting to go back is a give-in to Aziraphale ("Of course...you're the bad guys"). Crowley doesn't realize that maybe his go-to quick-fix of running away together, though romantic, doesn't actually fix anything for Aziraphale.

No matter what, these characters are (canonically) two halves of a whole. Even as their separate halves they are incredibly complex, and therefore, hard to emotionally pin down without contradiction. Beautifully, much like real people.

Last, but not least, if you don't feel represented in your reaction to Crowley's rejection, I hate to break it to you, but you're Muriel.

You're the passive watcher outside the window, collecting data like a nature documentarian/ officer constable concerned with matters of the heart. And we love you for it!

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #muriel #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffible divorce #good omens meta #gomens #I over identify with Crowley and it makes sense #more where this came from #I would die for Muriel #Muriel and crowley besties in season 3

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vacuously-true · 5 months

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Every time an app gets an aesthetic/organizational update a lot of people flip shit, can't actually name anything they hate about it besides that it's different (or say a bunch of complicated shit that sounds like actually informed design opinions, but isn't, and boils down to "it's different") and then within a few weeks get used to it and chill out.

(Bonus points for trying to coordinate mass ways to punish the app owners/designers/employees that basically amount to annoying the shit out of them, wasting their time, or fucking up their data, all of which make their jobs harder, which makes improving the app and responding to legitimate concerns harder.)

Can y'all knock it off? Can we all try taking a week to try something before deciding we hate it? And if you do still decide you hate it, figure out why for REAL (this setting is harder to find, this functionality got lost but I really needed it and there's no alternative in the new setup, et cetera). And then be mature about submitting useful and constructive feedback that devs can actually work with? And not flooding their feedback with unconstructive things making it harder to find the things they need to find?

I feel like we're getting into a "kid who cried wolf" situation. If we make the biggest fuss every time anything changes, including over stuff we would really adjust to just fine in a week or two, and make devs' lives miserable over it, they're not going to be able to tell when they change something in a really bad way. Because we react exactly the same. How are they supposed to interpret user feedback when it's always such a mess?

Every app is going to look different every so often. It's going to get updates based on the feedback people have provided since the last update and evolving ideas about what structures work best. If we want the next update to be BETTER we need to be serious about submitting SERIOUS feedback the devs can actually work with. Not stuff that makes it harder to find important feedback. Not stuff that makes it harder to tell what will really improve people's experiences the most.

I'm not saying everyone upset about one thing or another is wrong so don't come at me about your least favorite thing about the update and how I'm an idiot for thinking it's okay. I'm just saying a lot of people are upset before even having had the time to decide what they're upset about and a lot of people are trying to "take action" in ways that will probably make things worse.

Just like. Think about it. Are you mad because something is different and you're not used to it yet? Are you mad because someone else said they're mad so you figure you should be too? Think about it for a minute. Try it out for a few days. Still mad? Cool, see if you can articulate it in a coherent way and submit feedback. Post about it if you want, but ask whether you're making a constructive or useful post, or just trying to get other people riled up. Want to coordinate a mass effort to fuck with the people who run the app? Maybe think about whether it would actually incentivise them to make the changes you want.

Just. Think. Please. Before we lose the trust of every app team that WANTS to listen to us can't trust feedback anymore because we choose not to say constructive things and just try to fuck with them. Like I'm so scared that legitimate concerns will be lost in the flood of "I'm having fun being angry on the internet" and devs will never be able to find it and respond to it. And then they'll just give up.

#discord #but also every other app #every other month #leemursays #mine

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lieblinqs · 11 months

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retrouvaille. (n.) the joy of being reunited with someone again after a long time apart.

simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!reader

after getting heavily injured on a mission, simon gets a warm welcome from his beloved - but he needs them to promise him one thing.

//wounds, basic angst, very fluffy at the end! f!reader but only bcs “lass” is used once

word count: 2,134

You never really notice how small your apartment feels when there's no one but you - how comforting it is to finally feel his presence back after weeks and months of an empty house - you couldn't even call it a home until then. Because your home was standing tall in your doorframe, hunched just the slightest bit, dressed in gear and was reaching for your body. "I can't make it if you don't promise me to be okay."

"I don't want to be okay without you."

You've never been so on point with keeping track of time until you've had to wait for Simon to come back from deployment. When the final day arrives, you haven't slept for not a minute. You couldn't imagine not being there for him when he finally arrives — so when you hear the familiar heavy steps and keys rustling from behind your apartment door, your heart completely stops for a second. You've never been up this fast, making your way to your small entryway in a heartbeat - probably hitting your foot against a few tables of yours while running too, making sure everything that you've planned is intact for the moment. But that plan gets thrown off immediately by pure impulse and instinct.

He reached out for your body and you jumped in, like a natural body reaction; your bodies fitting together like a puzzle meant to be, the familiar musky scent of him that you swear you hate, (but, if we're being honest, you truly missed and love) all of it taking over your senses. He held you so tight to himself as if you'd disappear if he let go – like a man starved of human contact.

During all this time of knowing Simon, you've already figured that his actions speak more than words – even with you, he responds in short answers. He's more of a listener, anyways. So that hold told more than any of your words could ever explain, not even those you scripted and waited to tell him. Without words, you both exchanged everything you needed to say. "...Simon." you finally managed to murmur against his vest, yet all you could make out was his name; hands gripping onto whatever piece of cloth you could find on him.

"In the flesh." hearing his voice again is like a nostalgic hit in the stomach. Like listening to an old song you used to cry to before. "Missed me?" His exhausted smug face was wiped off by your lips crashing against each other; It was his voice that took you out of the shocked state and made you pull his Balaclava off completely – kissing him like it was truly the last time you could. Simon laid his one hand into your hair and pulled you closer to him, the other holding at your waist. Both your eyes were screwed shut, just enjoying the euphoric relief of tension

You didn't even know how long you two have been stuck like this, but you could stay like that forever. That is if you weren't mortals, who need air to breathe.

"How many weeks has it been..fuckin’ hell, months even. –"

"67 days."

"...You counted it?"

You decide burying your head deeper into his chest was enough of an answer. You did count it – and his heartstrings were pulled as guilt flows through them. He didn't deserve to come back to this. Ghost didn't deserve to be loved like this, he believes.

Leave wasn't always comforting like this for Simon.

Well, comforting, sure. Depends on who views it. He found comfort — but in the bottom of a bottle instead of your embrace. His apartment was empty; and not just empty in the physical sense. It was empty of life, just dim light coming from the halfway opened windows, unopened mail and boxes scattered around, only indicators that there even was someone living here.

But now he, out of all people, had the priceless privilege of coming back to you. To a warm home with someone who's waiting for him, who's waiting for Ghost to leave and Simon to come back.

"Every single day that you were gone." You never really noticed how small your apartment feels when there's no one but you - how comforting it is to finally feel his presence back after weeks and months of an empty house - you couldn't even call it a home until then.

Because your home was standing tall in your doorframe, hunched just the slightest bit, dressed in gear and was reaching for your body.

"Don't just stay at the door like some jehovah's witness, Please." You give an awkward snort and make your way to close the door behind him. "...How was it?"

"Harsh."

You knew better than to ask about details of his job. You knew where he was, what he was doing, and (about) when he comes back. It was enough for him, because if there's one thing he never wants to happen it's to bring you into the operations. You didn't need to know more.

You were curious, sure, and he would tell you about the Taskforce once or twice - both of you laughing at some dumb thing that happened to a rookie or that one time he absolutely obliterated Soap in training — for the record, he is very proud of that. (Please tell him you are too.) He'd tell you about the impressive shots he did, and some ego-boosting updates on his strength that you're sick of hearing, but that's about it. You were okay with that to some extent, too.

While helping out Simon get out of his uniform and lay off his gear aside, you had to glance back at it twice before realizing what you saw on the side of his stomach.

"Jesus fucking-... You told me you'd be more careful this time!" You hiss out at the sight of his wounds painted with dark, dried blood, practically left unattended except for the basic stitches and what looks like some worn-out bandages. "Not quite easy when you've got targets in yer back love." simply huffing at his remark, you shake your head with annoyance at his lack of care.

Without a word or further complaint, you drag him into your bedroom and sat down with him on the shared queen-sized bed.

Taking a closer look on what you were being left with, you began by cleaning off his scarred skin;

" Fuckin' hell—"

"...Might sting?" A quiet chuckle, that you just couldn't hold in, escapes your lips as well as a soft smile that creeps upon them.

"But whose fault is that now.." The look in those deep, brown eyes that you fell in love with a long time ago, now signal you that familiar sign to what this is going to lead into. Your own face scrunches at the thought of it; so, so close to breaking down at the already overwhelming situation. "Can't always come out without a scratch." "That is not a scratch." "I'm jus' saying. You know what I do and what comes with it. Right? Listen."

"Simon." The first time, it's a warning to him - to remind you avoid this conversation like the plague for a reason.

"You'll live a long time without me —"

"Don't." The second, it's a plea. A begging whine brought in a shaky voice and accompanied by eyes swollen with tears, interrupting what other painful daggers of truth he was about to give you - he always did this in the worst moments.

It's so easy to pretend that it couldn't happen.

"I need to know you'll be fine on your own without me." And there it was. His voice was grating and raised, — if you didn't know him you'd think he was mad. But he isn't. He's frustrated and this is the only way he can deal with it - He's frustrated because It's killing him to talk about it too, tearing at his heartstrings, knowing that he might not come back to you after one goodbye. That after one unlucky mission, one unlucky shot, one unlucky ‘scratch’... he won't come back to your embrace where war and blood find no home. His dark eyes that indicate death and a cold-hearted killer on the battlefield are now yearning for support and understatement in yours. You could've sworn you even saw them beginning to look glossy. His voice now begins to hitch and breaks itself - the grip he had on you now trembling and weakening, eyebrows furrowing; a vulnerable sight that Simon swore to never let anyone see again. Yet here he is, kneeling in front of his love on their shared bed, begging for a single promise. "I wanted that to be the first thing we do when i come back, in case.." He drifts off as he gives you a stern look into your eyes, his hands gripping your arms in a tight hold. "In case there won't be another chance."

"I can't make it if you don't promise me to be okay." "I don't want to be okay without you."

He doesn't know what to say; he wishes he never had to even hear that. But this is what comes with loving Simon.

"And you won't have to. But if something happens —" A quiet, cried-out whisper interrupts him once again. "Don't say that." In return, he can't bring himself to respond with anything else other than an exaggerated exhale and a head tilted to look down. "...If something happens, you promise to live out your life, alright? None of that 'mournin’ for me' crap, yeah?" Simon wasn't one to comfort others, even though he tried his best for you. But god, he does know how to make you cry.

"Tell me you'll stay strong for me." "I don't take orders" a weak smile creeps onto your face as you jokingly scoff, but still linked with that sad expression.

"..."

When silence falls between the both of you and no sign of that hazy and mean playfulness in the dark orbs of his that usually lingers, letting you know he means it when he tells you to confirm. Who are you to disobey the L.T.’s orders?

"I'll try." After a few moments run by, you manage to say something in return with a shaky voice – basically forcing yourself to accept that pill that's so hard to swallow.

"I'll try to Simon. But I don't know how long I can try for." Averting your gaze from his, you finish touching up his stitches and lay off the med kit into some random bedside table drawer.

"I want to know that you're always somewhere out there, that that smile of yours' still goes around." he took your jaw into his hands and his dreary eyes were taking you in, your head immediately melting into the familiar hold of his as the calloused thumbs begin to wipe your tears off your pretty face.

"Come on lass, traveled back to you n' all that, and ya won't even give me a smile? Get me a refund." Losing to fight back a smile, you hit your one hand against his chest lightly and hide your smiling face into the crook of his neck - a heavy weight lifted off your shoulders, and where there were sobs, there are now those warm giggles of yours that Simon dreams of when he's gone.

"I'm tired."

"What's stopping ya?"

"Your need to shower."

"Oi, piss off." He grunts a chuckle under his breath as he throws you over his shoulder and heads to the bathroom; placing a kiss onto the hips that he was carrying. "Barely home for an hour and ya already have an attitude. Gonna have to get rid of that."

"Bet you do."

The water droplets grazing both your nude bodies as he leans his head atop of yours, your hands working their way to his face and gently rubbing it's paint off. — An vulnerably intimate and loving scenario between you two. You have to admit, it took an ungodly amount of time to build that amount of trust between you. But you'd wait for him over, and over, and over again if it meant to be together like this. When you two finally get out, he insists of carrying you into your bed.

His embrace feels so comforting, his bicep curled around you, pulling you into his chest – his heartbeat and the dimmed lights lulling you to sleep. It's a perfect way to warm ones heart after one half of it was gone for so long.

"I've missed this Simon."

"It's what I fight for, love." It's so easy to pretend that it can be always like this.

tags: @lovsavangeline2

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list as well ^.^ pls like reblog or comment!! i love seeing ur interactions, ++ my requests are open for anything a/n : also should i keep the small font or write in a normal one??

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #i'll promise i'll post that series fic soonpls #ficlet #mj's lexicon #but first ill post a könig smut ficlet next hehe

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grievedeeply · 1 month

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the less time the better. pt 8.

PREVIOUS | NEXT — SERIES TAGLIST

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: days have passed since the kiss you shared with heimdall, and while you try to figure out what it means for your relationship— the group prepares for war.. and suffers a massive loss.

notes: this chapter is just straight angst. sorry in advance but it was a necessary evil.... ignore any plot holes please..... and also please let me know if you want to be tagged in this series! my taglist is really old and im sure ppl have lost interest, so let me know if you want to be removed as well.

you awoke from your sleep with a jolt. you had never gotten used to the rough feeling of wood pressed against your skin as you slept. even if it was the same material you usually slept on while you were home in midgard, your circumstances were different. back then, you didn't have to worry about a war with one of the most powerful gods in the realms. you only had to worry about what to make for dinner. now, you had much more to think about. including your strange relationship with the god of foresight, heimdall.

a part of you still regretted taking his wrist in your hand that day. it still wasn't that long ago, but you wondered how different things would be now if you hadn't.

the atmosphere was tense in the house. you swore there had been maybe 20 words spoken between everyone. people looked over their shoulder, wary of heimdall's every move. in a way, you couldn't blame them. after all, he was odin's son. the son of the man who had ruined their entire lives, and he had yet to state his side. but he wasn't fighting, either. ever since he had arrived.. you noticed that. he never fought the idea of being used as leverage. after your conversation. you supposed you understood why.

ratatoskr had since found out of heimdall's presence on his tree, and he was less than happy about it. but still, he had remained polite despite his grievances. you did notice how he seemed to be around less, though. you couldn't help but to assume that was due to heimdall.

freyr hadn't gotten any used to him being around, and you didn't think he ever would. he was quieter— less himself. you hated seeing him that way.. but the vote you had made days prior was a fair one. you thought he had trouble seeing him as anything but a member of the family who burned him. he couldn't even see him as leverage.

your father jumped into gear the morning after. he was completely prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect atreus.. and yourself, by extension. you knew little of his time in his homeland. it was something he didn't speak of much, but you did know he killed gods there. he seemed ready to have to do it again, but not at all eager about it.

"none of us are safe, even here." tyr murmured from where he sat at the end of of the table. it was far too small for him, and his knees hit at the wood on the edges, but it was almost a funny sight. "so we have no choice." freya responded simply. "we find surtr, sound gjallarhorn, and bring odin to justice. now."

you glanced uncomfortably over your shoulder at heimdall, who stared blankly at the group from where he stood, leaning against the wall. you watched as his hand fell to the horn on his hip.

"you'd incinerate every soul in asgard and call it self defense?"

"does he ever suggest plans or just crap on everyone elses?" freyr murmured, leaning back against the table in the kitchen.

"the obvious plan is staring you in the face," tyr ignored him, "we don't need odin to use this. we can slip into asgard and do it ourselves, right under his nose. we gain the knowledge we need to shatter his prophecy of war once and for all."

"except— begging your pardon— you don't have a way into asgard." sindri replied.

"they got the big horn, don't they?" brok called out from their working space.

"oh, so you expect them to sneak into asgard blowing a horn that sounds across all the realms?"

"i expect you to bite my blue buttcheek!"

"please. just.. think about it." tyr said.

you watched as atreus sat the mask down on the table. you had let him look at it. he had read the runes, inspected the design.. but nothing seemed to make sense outside of that crack you had told him about that odin had in his basement. your father sat mimir down next to it.

"this mask," he started, picking it up. "the easy answers that it promises. i know this.. shortcuts always have a price."

he turned his focus to you, brows knitted together. this expression that he wore wasn't one you saw often. he was worried. "you have carried it. what do you think?" he asked.

you let out a breath. "i don't know. at best.. it's a chance." you said with a shrug of your shoulders. you didn't know what it was or what it entailed, but you knew it was important to odin. "if nothing else, it's leverage. we have something he wants. if it really gives us all the answers, maybe no one has to die."

"grand. now all we need's a way to asgard." mimir replied simply.

you watched as your father's gaze shifted to tyr, and hesitantly, so did yours. "i know i've been a burden to you all," he started, readjusting himself in the seat, "i know you've questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. i have too."

he stood, walking around the table. something changed in his stride. you wondered where his sudden boost of confidence seemed to come from. but maybe this was what you needed. "i have too. but it's clear now. this is what i'm needed for. this is my purpose. one last time. i will pick up my spear and.. i will lead us to asgard."

"'scuse me, but if you got a way to asgard, where's that idea been this whole fuckin' while?" brok asked.

"that's.. rather a fair question, brother."

"you.. withheld asgard?" your father asked, pushing himself to his feet. something in his eyes shifted. anger. you recognized that look all too well.

"you would've gotten us all killed. and we needed to give the champion time to find their destiny. here it is." tyr picked up the mask off the table, and you shrunk into yourself. you hated being called the champion. it didn't feel like you, really.

"it's all led to this."

"if we can get inside, i'm going after odin." freya said.

"i will not stop you. we can do both."

"spot on, brother. if the mask doesn't give us an out, we'll still have the drop on him."

"works for me." freyr spoke through his food.

"let's do it, then."

"and quickly, before he sees us coming."

"he does hate surprises."

you looked back over at heimdall, who had silently gotten much closer to you while you were involved in the conversation. he stood a foot or so behind you, brows knitted together. "heimdall," you started, cutting off anyone else from speaking before they even could. "is there.. another way into asgard?"

he looked over at you, then back at tyr. his eyes were filled with something else, something you couldn't exactly pinpoint.

"no." he replied after a pause, staring at the taller god. the rest of the group only stared at him.

"i still wanna hear the details on this, uh, new way to asgard you got. spill it!" brok said after a moment. if anyone knew another way to asgard out of everyone in the room, it would've been heimdall. he wouldn't have lied, would he? was that something he would do to you after everything that happened the other night? you decided not to think about it.

"it's an ancient path. we can't reach it from here." tyr said, moving around brok to continue walking.

"where then?" he pushed, following after him quickly.

"let me collect my things and i'll show you." tyr replied frustratedly. you furrowed your eyebrows together. brok was right. something about this just.. wasn't making sense.

"you ain't got no things. and where you goin' with that mask?" he smacked it out of tyr's hand, and you watched as it went flying. "that belongs to y/n, they earned it! all you done was make passable dirt soup!"

"brok, it's okay." you muttered in an attempt to de-escalate whatever you were watching unfold. "no, it ain't." he responds without missing a beat. "this ain't right. all the pieces ain't weldin' together true. like, what's with him calling you, 'loki,' anyway?" brok asked, turning his gaze to atreus.

now that he had mentioned it.. you had never heard tyr call him atreus. he had only called him loki. the name your mother gave for him to the giants. no one had ever called him loki.

"you know that ain't his name! hey, i'm talkin' to you!"

"do you NEVER shut up?"

you watched as tyr shifted into someone else. odin. his knife dug into brok, completely tearing through his clothing and diving into his skin. the weapon was covered in his blood, and you could only watched as he fell to the floor. "brok!" sindri called, kneeling at his side.

behind you, you could feel heimdall drawing his weapon. his eyes lingered on the scene before him. this is what odin did to people. this is what he would've done to him, had he stayed.

in your state of shock, odin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the knife that was just used to stab brok held at the skin of your neck. he pulled you backwards, and even though you resisted, you knew it was ultimately no good. would you die here? would brok?

"of all the things.." odin murmured.

"odin." your father said, anger filling his eyes.

"let go and face me!" freya called, sword held in her hand. freyr stood at her side, and atreus at the other. heimdall took a place by your father. despite the risk of your life ending, you stared at him. he was facing his father. he had his sword drawn, his brows furrowed together. this was an expression you had never seen on his face before. anger.

"tell your brother to throw me the mask, and you've got a deal." odin said.

"stop moving."

"freya!" sindri called out, eyes focused on his dying brother. you wanted to sob. you wanted to do anything but be here in the grasp of the man you hated the most.

"if he dies.."

"now, now. wasn't part of the plan. but if he dies.." odin's gaze shifted to his son. "we are square for heimdall. and honestly, you got a bargain."

"i will kill you. plan on that."

"so nice spending time with you again."

"freya, please!" sindri begged, finally looking up at her.

"ah ah ah. can't be in two places at once, frigg."

freya shifted backwards, kneeling at brok's side. freyr stepped over, and with him, so did heimdall.

"hey, i don't move, you don't move. don't do anything you'll regret."

"i regret many things. killing you will not be one of them."

"i am in control here!" odin yelled. "throw me the mask, now!"

you watched as your father's gaze shifted from you to atreus, to freyr. he threw the mask after what felt like the longest few seconds of your life, and you lurched out of the allfather's grasp. atreus leaped at him, taking the form of a wolf as he did so. he was shoved out of the way, and he picked the mask up off of the floor.

"too bad." he said, looking directly at you. "looks like war after all."

as he stepped backwards into the doorway, your father hurled a spear at him. you hadn't seen this weapon before, but that was the least of your concerns. the tip of the spear pinned the mask against the wall, and odin slipped out of view. you breathed out a sigh of relief.. but that didn't last for long. you turned around and the view of brok and sindri together on the floor only broke your heart once again.

"please, you have to save him. you have to." sindri said, watching as freya tried her best to heal him. your heart sank into your stomach. there was nothing more she could do, and brok knew it. "he can't.. you can't.. maybe if i go back to the lake.."

"stop it. i know what you done. and i forgives ya. but y'gotta stop. y'gotta let go."

"brok?"

sindri stared down at his brother, now lifeless in his arms. he looked towards the ceiling, and disappeared.

"this.. whole time?" atreus murmured.

freyr appeared at your side, extending the mask out. you stared at it for a moment, before looking up at him. you took it out of his hands, your fingers pressing against it. you hated this thing. it took everything in you to not just destroy it right now.

"so.. what do we do now?" he questioned.

"now..?" freya repeated. she paused, picking up her sword. "now we kill odin. and anyone who gets in our way."

"atreus. y/n. come." your father said.

"what? where?" atreus asked.

"it does not matter." he muttered. you had never seen him look so.. defeated. you felt it too, but he was always so good at hiding how he felt. seeing him like this only hurt you further. brok meant a great deal to him, and you knew that. he meant a great deal to you, too.

"where are you going?" freya said.

"we are done."

he walked away and you were left standing with everyone else, watching as he turned to the door. you took in a deep breath. you squeezed your eyes closed, but followed after him. you stopped after a second, turning to look at heimdall.

you pressed the mask into his hands. "i'll be back." you said, your voice coarse. your throat felt dry. you wanted to scream. you wanted to cry. you probably would. but not right now.

you turned away from him, and followed after your father and brother wordlessly.

"you can't run away from this, kratos. odin won't stop until we stop him!" freya called after him, but her words were only meant with silence.

he pushed open the door, and you stepped onto the yggdrasil.

tags: @ic-yourface @alisblackgf @engardeitsme @venfia @dijanur @s1mpss @gorepitt @callalillie15 @bluehorizon987 @vanserrar @trippingoverstars @mysiax @beaniebear152 @rei64bit @neverendingdumptser @a-bunny13 @lei-leigha @candy4bonez @yyourmotherr @blobdrake-theory @zarizee @rainygamingstreamingturtle @kise-kae @aesthetic-of-a-director @unodostrescuatrolove @nixeustheclamity @aiciteaa @multifand0m-gal0re @chibi668 @wonderkive @lentillo @luffysoctopus @elizabeth-hatake @black-star1472 @lacm-ac @sxmirae @maggot-baggage @emc2beans @suzumi-hiddenmistclan @white-lyra @lmorg149 @iamverydreamy @giornos-curls @reinabxitch @ourchampionofthesun @paintmekala @the-eternal-sunflower @alextric-overload @lynn-haitani

#god of war x reader #gow x reader #god of war #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok #heimdall god of war #heimdall #heimdall gow #heimdall x you #gow heimdall x reader #gow heimdall x you #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall

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hellolulu · 7 months

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My theory about Furina is that the girl we know is simply a meka/puppet expertly made to look like the real Furina (we know this is possible with Ei, she has two puppets in her likeness), and the reason Neuvillette HAS to be around her at all times is because she isn't allowed to talk about highly secret topics, unlike the real Furina, down under the opera house, under the Oratrice, powering her Gnosis with the people's belief (in Justice, of which she is the archon). I believe she must be holed up there, possibly buried in research, likely trying to solve the primordial sea crisis without alerting the research institute, and I believe that she was the one who called out to Lyney when he performed his trick.

Neuvillette, as the dragon bound to the hydro archon (I HATE when they throw away these tiny lines that reveal insane lore, like how Celestia stole the dragons' power to give to the archons, which I now believe to be what is stored within the Gnoses. This also informs my idea on what the Tsaritsa is planning, but that's another theory haha) is faithfully taking care of this Meka-Furina and covering for her weaknesses. When she doesn't have clearance to speak on a matter, Neuvillete steps in. When a matter has no bearing on her true, secret work, she is free to act as she wishes (though she does still have a sort-of retainer in Chlorinde, who seems to know plenty more than she lets on). He attends important meetings at her side and rules over the court, responding to the oratrice, in order to keep up appearances while the true archon is trying to solve the crisis. And perhaps, the supposed real Furina is the one calling the oratrice's judgements, instead of it being The People; and when she noticed something off about Childe, she overruled the guiltless charge.

I can't explain the "curse" thing, perhaps it's just tied to the oratrice or the primordial sea, I have yet to know enough about her to figure out the curse's nature, but I think my theory covers a lot of ground otherwise. A meka created only to be a figurehead doesn't need to have any power within it, and as we've seen with Raiden, puppets are capable of having their own personality. In the past I considered Raiden's personality to be the "robot is emotionally cold" trope, but now I think Raiden was created to be strict and unbending on purpose by a grieving woman, as such traits would make her a perfect ruler in the absence of the real one - which also makes her reaction to Wanderer's gentleness make more sense. Rather than "omg why is he crying?? Sweet boy be free! Rip!" it paints a "you and I were not built for this painful world, and I don't wish to hurt a being that feels so softly" painting. That was a tangent, but in any case, The Wanderer, another puppet, also has a unique personality. We know him well, and that he even has his own desires and goals. The Katherines are also unique, even if they have a much lower level of consciousness (?). So why shouldn't a Meka Furina have such a unique, at-odds-with-itself personality, a true facade inside and out?

I had more I wanted to say about this theory but I've suddenly forgotten because I'm SLEEPY thank you for reading I love you goodnight

#genshin impact #furina #focalors #Neuvillette #genshin impact theory #genshin impact spoilers #I just think everyone is too hung up on 'she isn't the archon'#I think she is #but this just isn't her #lol #I do think that's why Furina and Focalors are both used often btw #they ALL have two names yk #but this is the first time I think I've heard an archon called both names so interchangeably #rex lapis and morax perhaps was also quite interchangeably used tho so this may just be overspeculation uwu #I think 'furina' is the one we've met #and 'focalors' is the one we haven't #idk I just think there's more to this story #they revealled neuvi dragon so anticlimactically you know? and arlecchino is just telling us she doesn't think Furina is the archon #but one thing about fontaine is everything is a facade #things which we are being told too easily may be our downfall later #'yes I'm the dragon' he says in pure truth right after you've had a pretty intriguing discussion about possible fake god #a boring truth to make the facade seem sweeter #idk I just have thoughts #oh also never even MIND my Childe theory bc I know I'm 100% right about that one after how this quest ended #there's just so much wrong with fontaine it's so out of place #to give us this simple easy digestible story after the horrors of Inazuma and Sumeru? naaahhhhh #I've been exploring those abandoned factories and searching every corner of the land bc this place Smells Of Fish.

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fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat · 2 years

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Pity-f*ck

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: You end up at a house party during your first Thanksgiving after graduation. Steve seems to have taken interest in you, though you don't have the slightest clue as to why.

Warnings: Angst with a fluffy ending, Alcohol, body image issues, implied smut but nothing explicitly stated, bullying, language, my own personal anti-thanksgiving rhetoric

Word Count: 1981

Notes: this is by far the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written and I do not regret it in the slightest.

My masterlist!

Fuckin’ Thanksgiving.

Arguably the worst holiday. Even the forgettable ones like Arbor day were better than Thanksgiving, because at least on Arbor day you didn’t have to deal with extended relatives asking why you’re not engaged yet or reminding you how much weight you’ve gained since you last saw them. The food was very overrated, in your opinion, and usually needed to be accompanied by at least one whole bottle of wine per person. It was freezing, but since winter hadn’t quite come in full swing, there were no sparkling icicles or glimmering snowbanks, just frigid rain and brown slush on the roads that made it hard to drive.

Pair that with being stuck in your miserable little hometown for a week, and it had started to become a little bit of a nightmare.

You’ve successfully ran away from the prying questions and drunk aunties, though now you seemed to have ended up somewhere even worse; a highschool acquaintance’s house party. Everything else was closed, seeing as it was eleven o’clock the night before Thanksgiving, but you really, really needed an excuse to get out of the house, so you chose the lesser of two evils.

Now, instead of sitting in the corner of your house getting drunk, you were sitting in the corner of someone else’s house getting drunk.

People you sort of knew flittered by, giving you half hearted greetings and disingenuous waves. They ignored you all throughout high school, so them continuing to do so seemed about right in your mind. You grabbed a drink and planted yourself on the bottom step of the wooden staircase in the corner of the living room, having resigned yourself to a night of people watching against a soundtrack of shitty pop music and holiday chatter.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come. You’d only really been invited after being cornered in the grocery store by an old friend who didn’t know you hated her, and clearly nobody else gave a shit that you had turned up. You had been invisible then, you were still invisible now, so maybe it’s time to just chug what’s left of your watered down vodka, and-

“Hey.”

You look up from your one person pity party, to find the face of Steve Harrington looking down at you.

“Hi,” you respond with an air of disbelief. Why had Steve Harrington suddenly taken interest in you?

“Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you with his cup. “You, uh, you seem lonely.”

“I’m not,” you spit back at him.

“Okay.” Steve doesn’t seem phased by your animosity. “Can I sit anyway?”

You pondered for a moment. This was very out of character, at least for the Steve you remembered, who dared people to pretend to ask you out as a punishment, and tossed pencils and wads of paper at you from the desk behind your own. That Steve had been a grade-A asshole to you until you had figured out how to properly blend in with the cinderblock walls.

Though, you did have an old friend from band, one of the few people you bothered to stay in touch with, and she insisted that he wasn’t like that anymore. . .

“If you want,” you uttered, eyes pointed out into the crowd of your former classmates.

“Thanks,” Steve said from beside you. The steps were really too short for either of you to be able to sit comfortably, and while you opted to tuck your knees to the side and keep your legs away from any possible oncoming traffic, Steve had stuck his straight out with his right ankle crossed over his left.

“You’re one of Robin’s friends, right?” he asked. You perked up some at the prospect of being able to talk to Robin.

“Is she here?” you questioned, looking around to see if you could spot her in the sea of people.

“Yeah, somewhere, but she ran off with, uh,” Steve trailed off. “She ran off with somebody.”

“Lucky,” you muttered into your plastic cup before taking a hefty swig.

“How’s school going?” Steve asked you. You hadn’t been ready for more small talk, and you’d been asked that at least fifty times this week. “Robin said you’re in Chicago now.”

“It’s good.” You decided to keep your answers brief in hopes of eventually getting Steve to end the conversation and leave you be. “Chicago’s good.”

“Good.”

There was an awkward tension between the two of you. Why did Steve want to talk to you? It couldn’t actually be because he wanted to know how your classes were going, he’d never given a shit about them before, so he had to have some sort of ulterior motive, right? You scanned the room once more, trying to see if any of his (supposedly) former crew were looking in your direction, waiting for the punchline to hit. Your guard was now up even higher than it had been before, if that was even possible, when Steve spoke up again.

“Y’know, I was thinking, actually-”

“Okay, did you, like, lose a bet? Or something?” you interrupted. You were highly attuned to people trying to pull tricks on you now, and there were warning bells going off in all directions inside of your head.

“What? No, I-”

“No, you know what?” you snapped. You’d gone from mild annoyance to fiery anger, but you weren’t the same person you were when Steve had last pulled something like this. You were a grown ass adult now, and so was he. You were not gonna put up with his shit anymore. Not again. “I get it. It’s fine. Honestly, I understand why you all find shit like this funny.”

“Funny?”

“Just because the high school loser finally became pretty after graduation doesn’t mean she’s not a loser anymore, right?” you stated. Steve looked at you with an expression of shock on his face. He remembered you being timid and quiet, doing whatever you could to avoid making waves. He hadn’t expected this much brazen confidence from you, though maybe he should have. You were right when you said you’d become pretty after graduation; he almost hadn’t recognized you from across the room because of how much you’d changed since he last saw you. He stayed quiet for a moment.

“Believe me,” he said, looking intently into his plastic cup. “Out of the two of us, you are not the loser here.”

“Me versus King Steve? And I’m not the loser?” You almost had the ghost of a smile on your face, though you were still unsure of where Steve’s intentions lied.

“Oh, no. It’s definitely not you.”

“How so?”

“Well, I still live here with my shitty parents, and you got out and moved to Chicago, so there’s number one,” Steve started. He was counting on his fingers, cup balanced precariously between his thumb and pointer. “Two, you’ve got this great future ahead of you, anybody can see it, and my biggest goal right now is making assistant manager at goddamn Family Video, which, by the way, I’d put twenty bucks on it going to Robin, not me.”

You stared at him, almost in awe. If you’d been told three years ago that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would be listing off compliments to you, you would have never believed them.

“Three, look at you! You look so cool! I don’t know how to look cool anymore!” Steve continued his rant, tossing an arm up for emphasis. “I used to know how to dress cool, and now I dress like I’m someone’s dad! How did that even happen?!”

You let out a laugh.

“You’re not dressed like a dad,” you said. “You’re dressed fine.”

“Exactly! Just fine! Not cool anymore.”

“Oh, my god,” you huffed with a smile. You paused for a moment, shaking your head. Steve looked at you, waiting for you to poke back at him, and saw your smile falter.

“What?” he asked. You turned towards him.

“I live in a dorm with a chemical engineering major who’s so much smarter than me that she hasn’t even bothered to learn my name,” you said. “I work at a Macy’s makeup counter and get yelled at by old women all day. The only difference between what I’m doing and what you’re doing is that you can actually afford to eat.”

Steve eyed you. He had a look of sympathy on his face, this time genuine, and not self-pitying to make you laugh.

“And thank you for thinking I’m cool, by the way, but I promise you I am not,” you added. “Call it a symptom of not getting hot until after high school.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, voice hushed. Well, as hushed as he could get while still being heard above the noisy crowd.

“I don’t know how to get into parties, or into clubs,” you said.

“You got into this one okay,” Steve responded.

“Well, yeah. Anybody with a pair of tits and half a bottle of booze could get into this party. The standards here are pretty low.” Steve let out a small laugh at your sentiment.

“I guess that is true, yeah.”

“I never learned how to get dates, because nobody ever wanted to date me,” you said. “I don’t know how to get a guy to buy me drinks, or take me home.”

You were oversharing, you knew it, but you didn’t really care. Maybe you had just had too much to drink, but it felt damn good to finally be able to air all of your grievances with the way you’d been treated, and saying it to Steve Harrington of all people made it all that much more satisfying.

“I have no idea how to make friends, but everybody else does, and it’s so, incredibly lonely,” you muttered. You had lost your smile, it having now been replaced by a deep scowl.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve said, bumping his shoulder into yours. “I don’t think I know how to do any of that stuff either.”

“Sure,” you said with a chuckle of disbelief.

“I’m serious! Once we graduated and all that popularity, hierarchy bullshit wore off,” Steve said. “Nobody gave a rat’s ass about me anymore. All that shit went away.”

The pair of you sat without speaking for a moment. Though you’d never have guessed it, you and Steve seemed to actually be in similar, socially inept boats.

“I’m not gonna lie, that does make me feel better,” you said. “Like, a lot, actually.”

“Oh, well, it’s good to know my suffering can be of use to you,” Steve replied.

“Very good use,” you quip back to him. He smiled at you, and you returned it with your own.

“Maybe we can, uh,” Steve trailed off. “Maybe we can figure out how to be cool together?”

You were silent for a moment, and Steve was worried he’d miscalculated your conversation, before a mischievous smile graced your face.

“Are you trying to pity-fuck me, Harrington?” you asked with a grin, sarcasm thick on your voice. Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Wh-no, no!”

“Because I’ve been pity-fucked before,” you said through the widest smile Steve had seen on you all night. “And it’s only fun for a little while.”

The pair of you were both laughing now, hearty laughs that came deep from the chest and made Steve’s eyes water out of the corners.

“I’m not trying to pity-fuck you!” Steve responded with a shake of his head. He took a sip from his drink, leaving a moment's silence between you two. You still had a leftover smile on your face. Interrupting the quiet you two were sharing, he slyly added, “I’m trying to actually fuck you.”

That made you choke on your drink, and Robin rounded the corner to find you coughing and spluttering, and Steve’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

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