#it’s not that I didn’t feel it was important enough to remember
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𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
Sukuna
[Chapter 1] Offerings
Story Masterlist
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
Sukuna is missing something, he’s not sure what it is but he knows that he’s bored. He’s bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty.
He’s done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didn’t. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough anymore. There’s something that he’s missing, but he’s not quite sure what it is.
He has everything a man could possibly want– Although he isn’t exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isn’t going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesn’t have much of a guide though, therefore he’s lost in how to fix his problem.
“Uraume.” Sukuna’s voice isn’t all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukuna’s every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or he’s upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two.
“My king.” Uraume kneels down before him. He’s quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. It’s unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with it though.
“What do men usually do?” He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesn’t remember that stage of his life, and he’s sure he wasn’t happy either which is the reason why he’s the monster he is now.
“I’m not sure.” They sound reluctant. “If you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.”
“Get out.” He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesn’t want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.
“There’s a woman with an offering.” A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. That’s his answer.
Sukuna wants a successor.
“Take it to the servants, answer to her needs.” Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard task– Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.
“Please eat, Haru.” You put the bowl beside the young boy’s mat. You’ve been slowly watching your brother’s health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because it’s not something that’s affecting anyone important.
It’s not a disease that’s affecting anybody else, really. It’s not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that there’s no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he can’t keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.
“I did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.” You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. “Just one bite, Haru.”
“I’m sleepy.” Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.
“Just one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.” You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and you’re fighting back a smile– It’s barely any progress, if you can even call it that. “Open up.”
There’s a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, “I’ll get you some water.”
“He’s finally eating something.” You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isn’t all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that it’s a sign of him getting better but it really doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything that’s made for him, but he throws it back up.
“I really wish this meant he was getting better… But we both know that he’ll get worse tomorrow.” She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know she’s right. You don’t like hearing it though, you’re helpless. There’s nothing more you can do for Haru, you’re just waiting for the day to come.
“I really think he can get better.” Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you don’t even believe yourself. You’ve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You can’t just accept that fact though, he’s your baby brother, you can’t let him go. “Let me get his water.”
“I’ll get it… Think about what the medic said.” Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that you’ve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,
“Your best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.” “But if he thinks it’s beneath him, he’ll kill you.”
You don’t want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. He’s not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself.
“I’ll be back, I have to figure something out.” You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which you’re thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what you’ll do next.
You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.
“My king, there’s a woman with an offering.” It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. It’s unnecessary, purely materialistic– It’s a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna can’t judge, he's the sole winner in the end.
“Let her in.” He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you.
You’re trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because there’s tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at death’s door is no easy feat.
“Rise.” He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You don’t dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that he’s staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how he’s found her. “What do you want?”
“My brother…” Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You can’t start crying in the middle of it, you’ve gotten this far, he’ll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. “He’s sick. The medic can’t cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.”
He’s not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. He’s more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you don’t look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesn’t want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesn’t want one of them carrying his heir.
What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence that’s written all over your face. You’re the perfect lily that he can’t wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.
“What do you have for me? Open the basket.” He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that it’s not enough. You don’t know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. He’s usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, “Why do you come to me with this?”
“Pomegranates aren’t native to the land, and they’re scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.” You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses it’s creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you don’t gain points for creativity, no one ever has.
“Pomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?” He’s mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. He’s right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? He’s not like you, he’s not just going to eat it. You’re usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, there’s no answer from you, and he orders, “Look up at me.”
Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and you’re in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isn’t a human. You were terrified earlier, but now you’re simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.
“Do you really think I’ll do anything with the fruit?” His voice sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. “You have a voice don’t you? Use it.”
“No, my king. My apologies.” It’s strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate.
“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He’s thinking about how merciful he is– Which isn’t entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what he’s thinking for you. “I have a proposal for you.”
“A what…?” Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, it’ll surely be something that you have yet to hear.
“Bear my child, and I’ll forgive you.” He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, there’s no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then.
“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesn’t want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and they’re in the room, waiting for their king’s command. “Take the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.”
“Wait– You’re serious?” You dare to ask. You haven’t even agreed, yet he’s getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. “You don’t even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?”
“What’s your name then?” He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you don’t, you’re screwed. “There we have it. Take her, Uraume.”
“Wait!” You shout, but Sukuna isn’t going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, they’d be dragging you outside but you’re not just anybody.
You’re the woman that will carry King Sukuna’s heir.
#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryoumen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna jjk#sukuna x you#sukuna jujutsu kaisen
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀ — HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE.
🇵🇸 daily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post
being with abby, finally, after a long day of her being gone for patrol. her body moves on autopilot when she steps through the door, bag dropped somewhere to be found tomorrow, shoes kicked off by the shoe rack she barely remembers to use, but tiredly halts in her steps and retreats just to put them on the wooden rack before getting too deep into the apartment because she knew how hard you worked to make one for you both. the small kitchen is completely silent, almost scary to her in a way because you are usually always in there, cooking something she likes, or listening to the soft random music, but you weren’t, and she doesn’t stop, not like she normally does. she isn’t hungry, nor does she want to stand there and make food.
she’s tired, she can hear the faint chirping sounds of wildlife outside the window but her feet carry her to the bedroom. the same bedroom she has promised she would help you decorate, or try to make it look homey in some way, but instead of finding you hanging up something you had made from a supply run she did last week, she finds you comfortably lying on the bed, a torn up old book in your hands and a small pout on your face.
neither of you have to say anything when she finds herself standing beside the bed— watching the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, or the way your finger fumbles with the corner of the page, when she leans down and presses her lips against your cheek. her way of telling you that she’s home. silent reminder that she isn’t going anywhere.
she leaves with a small ‘i love you’
abby was thankful there was still hot water. she hoped there was still enough for your shower tomorrow because you were used to taking them once you’ve woken up or after you’ve eaten something. her dirty clothes felt heavier, more restricted on her body the longer she watched the water pour out of the shower. if you were in here, abby knows you would scold her for wasting water. maybe that’s why the thought alone had her rushing and pulling off her clothes and shoving herself under the hot water just so you didn’t have something to be stressed out.
once scrubbing the smell of dirt, and everything else that made her feel gross, off her body, and replaced with pinewood body wash and hair finally feeling more like hair and not straw, abby grumbled her way out of the shower, droplets of water from her hair dripping down her back as she picked up some clean clothes from the cabinet, clothes that she gathered you had already left out hours prior because you knew she would feel gross and uncomfortable.
you’re still on the bed, same position and face buried in your book when she finally reappears from the bathroom, dressed in something a little warmer and more comfortable for her, no longer feeling dirty. her body slumps on the side that you had already pulled back the covers, your way of showing her you were patiently waiting for her to come to bed. she watches you read for a few minutes. she found peace in it, enjoyed watching you absorb yourself in a world that was much better than the one you both currently lived in. but she wouldn’t change the life she has with you for anything else. nor would you.
abby was too focused on watching the side of your face to notice you had already folded the corner of the page for a makeshift bookmark, closed it, and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. “how was patrol?” you finally asked, stroking her cheek slowly.
“patrol was patrol. same old” she mumbled, leaning into your touch. your fingers were on her shoulder seconds later, brushing your nose against hers and she couldn’t help but smile tiredly when you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “missed you though”
“i missed you more” you admitted in a whisper, pressing a soft feathered kiss to her lips. “always miss you” you nodded, leaning down and pressing your lips to her shoulder, stroking her neck with your thumb slowly. the silence filling the room comfortably had you both at peace.
abby doesn’t remember much from patrol after that, she remembers the way your fingers threaded through her damp blonde hair slowly, nails bluntly scratching at her scalp, a way that you know soothes her and relaxes her against your body. but she doesn’t remember what exactly happened once your lips left her shoulder or how you both got here. all her brain can think about now is how your fingers feel in her hair, tugging and pulling in whatever direction you wanted— needed her.
the feeling of your legs clamping around her ears, hips bucking off the bed with each flick of her tongue against your clit had her in heaven. the taste of you on her lips and tongue had her eyes rolling back in her head, gripping your hips tighter. the sounds you made that echoed through the bedroom made her wish she had a recorder just so she could listen to them over and over. even the feeling of your foot pressing down on her lower back had her on cloud nine. you were everywhere, and yet, not close enough at the same time. she needed more.
you were tired, abby was tired, but she didn’t want to leave the space between your legs. if she had her way, she would spend the rest of her life here. her ears were ringing loudly with the small pleas and begs that slipped through your parted lips. you felt yourself slipping more and more into the sheet below you when she tightened her grip on you, baby blue eyes flickering up to meet yours, the soft moans she let out amongst your own, had your skin burning, and fingers seeping more into her hair, gripping for dear life. her hushed begging of ‘not yet. please— wanna make you feel good, just one more. i swear just one more, baby’ against your cunt had you crying out, grinding up against her mouth.
“one more please, and we can sleep, okay? i promise, baby”
you could never say no to her, so when you nodded, lips parting again with another whimper, she grinned into your cunt tiredly. whispered out a string of thank yous and hums, loosened her tight grip just enough, and smiled when she felt your body relax even more.
“love you, abs”
“love you, baby”
#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson fic#abby anderson smut#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson#abby anderson tlou2#abby the last of us#abby x you#abby tlou#abby tlou2#abby x reader
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Hello, I would love to see more of your snarky millionaire villain and "not wanting to owe anyone money" hero. Please,,,, it was immaculate,,,, I beg I love it so much. It was such a wonderful read. I wish to see more of them 🥺 ty <333
here's part one of this story.
and ahh ty! now, onto part two:
Life after the villain's... generosity... is strange. The hero finds that they're no longer so stressed about paying rent or having enough groceries. They're well-fed and well-rested, for the first time in several months (years). The hero doesn't know how to feel about it all: they're frustrated, wary, exhausted, angry, ashamed. They have never been comfortable with accepting assistance, and the enormous sum of money forced onto them by the villain is an assistance they're entirely unable to refuse (literally). They remember how futile their attempts at resistance felt, as the villain firmly steered them down the sidewalk and forced them to walk in their bank and cash in the check. It was humiliating. They felt their eyes stinging with unshed tears, but they hid their guilt and remorse until they were alone behind the walls of their apartment. Those feelings don't leave them, even as time passes and the memory of that night blurs around the edges.
“You’re a strange one." The hero is torn from their thoughts and they instinctively bristle at the sudden, unexplained voice. When their gaze catches on the villain lurking in the corner of the room, they relax a little. And once they realize that they've relaxed, they scold themself for thinking their enemy's presence could be anything but unnerving.
“…Thanks?” The hero eventually remembers to reply. It seems that the villain has broken into their apartment just to speak to them. Either they have something important to discuss, or their enemy has too much time on their hands. The hero suspects the latter.
“Wasn’t a compliment,” the villain says. The hero rolls their eyes as their enemy continues. “Most people wouldn't need to be blackmailed into accepting a rather large sum of money."
Ah, this again. The hero was foolish to think their enemy would ever let them forget their... arrangement. “I’m not like most people,” they decide to say, after struggling to come up with a response for a few moments.
“Fair enough,” the villain sighs, as if that was a foregone conclusion.
“If I’m being honest,” the hero continues, their mouth moving before their mind can stop it, “Your, ah, gift…" The absolutely outrageous sum of money, the hero thinks, "...gave me some much needed vacation time.” Indeed it did. They enjoyed a few vacation days last week, which was quite the rarity. Not to mention the sudden stability and security they were awarded.
“Really?” The villain asks, crossing their arms over their chest and raising an eyebrow at them. They look frighteningly at ease, despite the indisputable fact that they're standing in a space that isn't theirs.
“Yes,” the hero answers. “I took a day off work for the first time last week.” That statement slips out before they can stop it. Immediately, they feel the villain's gaze focus on them intently.
“The first time?” The villain asks, a strange expression on their face. It looks to be a mix of disbelief and indignation. They cross their arms over their chest. “You’re joking.” They're performing a strange balancing act between boredom and interest. One moment, the villain is listening with rapt attention; the next, they're looking around the room as if they'd rather be literally anywhere else in the world.
Meanwhile, the hero suddenly knows they’ve committed a grave mistake. They remain silent, knowing any further explanation will only make things worse. The villain studies them for a long moment, and even as they continue speaking, it's clear that this conversation will occur again at a later date.
“I’m surprised you didn’t donate the money,” the villain hums, a smile working its way onto their face. The hero nearly sighs in relief at the change in subject.
“I think we both know I tried,” the hero huffs, not realizing their enemy's remark is a trap until it's too late. They engineered that verbal trap just to applaud their own ego.
“Ah, yes,” the villain smirks, their lips parting to reveal sharp teeth. “I blacklisted all of the prominent charities in the area. Rather ingenious of me, I have to admit.” They hold up their hand and look at their nails, before flipping it around to pick at something under their nail.
“There’s so much you could be doing with that kind of time and money,” the hero says with a shake of their head, resisting the urge to bury their head in their hands. They've done far too much agonizing about this for their own good. At some point, they're forced to accept the reality of the situation. Besides, the more attention they devote to the villain's strange and selfish philanthropy, the less energy they have for the more important things.
“But alas,” the villain sighs dramatically, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. The hero stiffens and pushes them off. “What has the world done for me?” They muse.
The hero has had too many circular conversations on the same topic to fall for the bait once more. They know they cannot change their enemy’s mindset, no matter how hard they try. They settle for throwing their hands in the air to indicate their helplessness. The villain seems surprised at their evident agreeableness, as they raise their brows before mimicking the gesture.
"What can we do?" The villain shrugs. "We're mere chess pieces in a far broader battle between good and evil." That's a gross oversimplification, but it still holds some degree of truth. Despite the fact that their enemy's question is clearly rhetorical, the hero's mind latches onto it and tries to pick it apart. What can they do, if they are a mere tool for someone else's use?
"We can hope we're not meant to be sacrifices," the hero eventually responds.
"Touché," the villain acquiesces. A slight smile rises on their face as they take in the space around them, evaluating the hero's apartment design with a critical eye. Eventually, they take a deep breath and announce their departure. "Well, while I'd love nothing more than to stay here and pester you, I'm afraid I've worn out my welcome."
"You were never welcome in the first place," the hero mutters darkly. The hero never invited their enemy over, after all.
Unfortunately, their remark only serves to amuse their enemy. "Now you're getting it," the villain grins, flashing them a mocking thumbs-up before promptly turning down the hall and disappearing from sight. The hero stares at the empty space they occupied for several seconds before finally submitting to the urge to bury their head in their hands in disbelief and irritation.
©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.
lol these two are great
tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello
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#defectivehero#hero x villain#heroes and villains#writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#hero and villain#creative writing
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Fallen Overboard
LUFFY X GN!READER
note: THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!!
content: angst, heatstroke in detail, reader is in serious pain, near death experience, comfort, nudity mention, luffy being fluffy. WC: 874
You weren’t sure how long you had fallen overboard, keeping a knocked out Luffy close to you as the both of you drifted out at sea on the plank from the enemy pirates ship. You laid on your back, your eyes closed as you found yourself nodding in and out of consciousness. You felt your heart pounding in your chest and your skin felt all dry as if you had scrubbed it with sandpaper or mini blades. Finaly you heard the sound of your crew and felt gentle hands grabbing ahold of you, you knew it was Sanji how he handled you with such gentleness.
You weren’t sure what was happening once you heard the crew panicking over Luffy but most importantly the way that Chopper and Sanji seemed to have all their attention on you, you weren’t upset over the others giving their attention to Luffy - he was your captain without him there was no crew - and you really couldn’t even stay awake long enough to be upset over such silly things. Sanji would take you along with Chopper to tend to your serious injurious, feeling cold touch your skin and causing you to flinch up attempting to pull away.
Sanji would hold you down carefully so Chopper could put medicine to the skin that had been the most burnt, your ears were ringing and you had no idea what the two boys had even been talking about except for the fact that you were a bit worried if Luffy was okay yourself. It was funny that in such a serious moment for yourself you couldn’t think of anyone else but your captain, I mean who could blame you? He did so much for so many people and he had a dream that he still needed to fulfill you didn’t want to be the reason he wouldn’t be able to achieve that.
Eventually after struggling to stay awake, your body grew to weak and you gave into sleep.
You woke up to be wrapped up in bandages, cold covering your whole body and your vision was blurry struggling to comprehend what was surrounding you. Once your eyes had finally adjusted you saw your captain, he seemed bored as he held a bit paper fan that he moved lazily to cool your body off. He was to busy using his other hand to pick at his own nose to have noticed that you had finally opened your eyes after a whole day of sleeping.
“Luff…?” You spoke up and the boy with raven hair snapped to look at you, “[Name]!” He called out with a big grin and flicking whatever came from his nose off to the side as he scooted closer to you. He was being careful, he had been scolded by Nami and Sanji multiple times for attempting to shake you awake only causing you to groan out in pain in your sleep. You looked at him for a moment before attempting to shift your position only to hiss out in pain.
Luffy looked at you before remembering what he was sitting here doing that had caused him to get so bored, he continued to fan your body as he watched you. “Chopper said you shouldn’t move to much.” He told you, the only important part of the conversation that he had with the little reindeer. He stared at you and you stared back with a worried expression, though straining your face began to sting and pull at the sunburn that had grown on your face.
You watched him for a moment before letting out an upset huff, “’m sorry luff.” you mentioned to tell him, your lips tugging to smile but only causing you more discomfort and pain. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows, “For what?” He questioned you and you just blinked at him, giving your face a moment to relax before responding. “Not protecting you…” You mumbled, attempting to use as little of your facial muscles as possible.
Luffy blinked slowly at you before breaking out into a cackle, “Oh [Name]! Yeah you totally sucked at protecting me.” He says bluntly causing you to huff out at him upset but he shakes his head, “But thanks to you I’m not at the bottom of the ocean!” He hums out smiling at you, “I should be the one saying sorry for not protecting you from the stupid sun!” He retorts.
You looked at him and shook your head ever so slightly before letting out a small giggle, “You were passed out.” You tell him, “I don’t blame you.” You tell him and watch as his facial expression… softened. He scooted closer causing the chair to scrap against the ground with a loud and obnoxious sound; then he planted a small kiss against your forehead.
This action caused you to stop breathing for a moment and stare at your captain who rarely ever showed any kind of, romantic affection to anyone. He smiled at you with his toothy grin before gently patting your head then continuing to fan you with the paper fan, you watched him and cursed mentally at the fact you were restricted by these damn bandages.
#— miloonmetis#one piece#one piece luffy#one piece x reader#luffy x reader#straw hat luffy#monkey d. luffy#luffy#with: luffy#luffy x you#opla luffy#opla luffy x reader#op luffy#monkey d luffy
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I think every moment is eternal in its own right and we hold no authority to deny it that status. Even if it is a forever that will escape our memories, it’ll still exist as a forever in the history of time. In the memories of no-one but the Earth itself. In the records kept and made by no-one, where everything is stored for all time to come. No love is lost and no existence truly unacknowledged.
#even the moment that one may spare to read this post; it’ll be a second dedicated forever in the records of time just to this simple post.#fleeting moments of attention and acknowledgement that aren’t so fleeting at all because they still existed and still do in a way.#it is tragic that we must associate a certain event to a date for it to become a joyous occasion. there’ll never be another 1/5/24.#is that not enough for it to be special itself?#one may argue that they have nothing to remember random days by and that is true.#but not every moment of delight and pleasure is to be remembered I think. to be entirely honest with you I barely hold any memory of#literally anything prior to 2022 perhaps.#but that doesn’t mean that those moments didn’t exist or don’t hold their own importance.#because even if I don’t remember and even if any other parties don’t remember. those moments still exist forever in history in a way.#And even if we don’t remember. The earth surely does; right? The ground must remember the weight and shift of our feet as we walked.#I just think it’s bittersweet that even if ‘forgotten’; nothing truly ceases to exist or be truly forgotten because it still existed.#there is a moment dedicated in this world’s history — into matter how short in duration — dedicated entirely to that event.#whether it be something as simple as just going for a week and appreciating the setting sun.#do you understand or do i sound mad.#i don’t know; i have a feeling it might be because my birthday is approaching soon and i’ve had a-lot on my mind.#neutral things mostly so fret not.#i think i need to go for a walk.#🥀#‘2022’#this is a blatant lie actually I don’t even remember 2023#i am. trying my best to recall my last birthday and nothing seems to be coming up so. do with this what you will.
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Somehow one of my old high school notebooks ended up at goodwill and not only did someone buy it, but they found my phone number and texted me 😬😬😬 which is… not cool, but also they turned out to be nice, so whatever, I guess
#I got this and started kinda freaking out because I had no idea what was in it#and how do people keep finding my phone number???#damn I kinda hate this digital world#anyway I figured out that one of my trash bags got mixed in with my goodwill donations a couple of weeks back#and some goodwill worker actually looked through all the trash and thought ‘yeah someone will buy this old used notebook’#anyway they sent me a pic of a couple of pages and I’m prettttty sure it’s all just dumb highschool stuff for tv broadcasting#but they were nice and it made me feel nostalgic to briefly talk about it with someone so I can’t be too mad#I mean… I dunno#maybe it’s some bored teenager and they find this weird notebook and want to know more about it#not that there’s anything too wild in there#really I vaguely remember flipping through it before tossing it and I don’t remember anything eye catching#if it had anything I really thought was important I probably would have kept it#and it’s about 15 years old so I’m of the mind that it’s aged past my need to worry what’s in it#eventually you get old enough that the stuff you did in your teens feels like someone else’s bullshit#like… 15 years on I’m barely the same person#whatever is embarrassing in there is embarrassing for teen Ian not current Ian#but wow… I really hope they didn’t pay for that#or that they at least got a few laughs out of it#that would actually make up for finding my number#if someone else can even briefly enjoy some of my old dumb stuff then that’s pretty cool#but also… how’d they get my fucking number!?#bleghhhh#for a second I hoped it was one of my old poetry books.#I would love to get one of those back#I used to have so many notebooks of my poetry#but ya know dumb teen-to-twenties Ian had to get all moody and trash them#well… that’s life I guess#ok anyway sorry to bother you#mine#text
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Like… is Takemichi gonna die..
#let me just say I’m disappointed in Mikey’s backstory/POV#we’ve been waiting for fucking ever to finally hear his thoughts and see what makes him tick and we got subpar shit tht didn’t explain#everything like WHY DOES HE HAVE THESE DARK IMPULSES IT WASNT BC OF HIS PARENTS DEATH OR SHINICHIRO#HES BEEN LIKE THIS EVEN BEFORE HIS MOTHER DIED AND HE DIDNT REMEMBER HIS FATHER BESIDES ONE MEMORY#then we finally get to see Mikey’s unfiltered and raw thoughts on shit tht happened and all the important shit gets ignored and the shit#shown is rushed and doesn’t really reveal shit??? like why didn’t we get more on his true feelings about takemichi#i for one wanted to know if his friendship/affection was genuine considering we’ve seen how he really is and how he has no issues trying to#kill him.. like did he only fuck with Takemichi because of his similarities with shinichiro it’s like wakui started on it then said fuck it#back to Takemichis POV it’s so annoying and not rewarding at all for readers who’ve been waiting on this#Mikey talked about Kisaki more than Takemichi Thts just ridiculous#also can we PLEASE get his feelings on Draken’s death like why tf are we still waiting for tht#but Mikey is fr evil af because he’s completely aware of what he’s doing and he’s still trying to kill his old friends#dude didn’t you leave to protect them I understand they came to you but beating them down is enough why are you actually trying to kill#takemichi like he’s genuinely trying to beat him to death and he’s doing this consciously#i get he’s far gone but there’s no way to come back from this#also Takemichi is literally so close to death wtf I wasn’t wakui to give Takemichi anything really since it’s clear he hates him and is up#Mikey’s ass but my God why have him just charge in endlessly to just get his ass beat are we gonna see some variety#like my dudes vision and hearing are literally impaired now because of Mikey’s deranged ass when is enough gonna be enough 😭#but now with the vision he got now I’m hoping this will give him the upperhand in the fight#because I’m actually tired of seeing him get his ass beat it’s enough now#he’s been getting dogged the whole series can he FINALLY have his moment fr#like an actual moment where he’s not the punching bag??? he had it against Kisaki but tht was bittersweet since he wasn’t the one to#actually kill his annoying ass#so at this point I’m over Mikey and want him taken out so like..let’s get on tht#tokyo revengers spoilers#Tokyo revengers 266
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#2023 the year of 1. finding friends who value me enough to invite me to stuff & remember/enjoy my presence#2. not giving people the power to make me feel bad when that doesn’t happen bc it doesn’t reflect on my worth#it just means we didn’t click like that#if this means I end up spending more time alone well. that’s fine bc good things are coming eventually.#it’s also the year of assessing how important I deem some people#bc I also deserve better than being the person people Only reach out to when their real friends/partner get busy.
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Happy Fanfic Writer Friday! What is a fic you've posted that you think deserves more attention? What is it about?
thank you for this ask and sorry for taking literal years to respond!!!! ✨✨✨
pick a direction and walk - this was my 2019 GOBB big bang fic and it was so so so meaningful to me, it really reflected a lot of my “I’m in my early 20’s, I’m lost, I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know what to do about not knowing, I don’t know what my purpose is, I don’t know how to find that purpose, everything feels big and overwhelming and I’m so so so lost 😞” problems at the time, and yet the story ended happily and hopefully and with a “it’s okay to just be you” kinda vibe. I was so proud of this and I’m still so proud of it even almost exactly 4 years later, and it continues to be my least-liked fic 🤷🏻
basically: Crowley and aziraphale gotta figure out wtf they’re gonna do post-apocalypse while also dealing with 1) Aziraphale’s acting WEIRD he’s wearing MODERN CLOTHES 2) Crowley’s miracles aren’t working but he’s in denial it’s fine and 3) Dagon and Michael showing up and Asking Questions that they don’t know how to answer. And they’re all gay of course
#starlight personal#starlight fandom#starlight asks#good omens#good omens fic#the go big bang 2019 was a different era ngl I was not my best self at that time#but is that not what early 20s are about? figuring yourself out and being a bit messy and insecure about it?#honestly this is still one of the fics I wrote that I strongly believe is my best writing#and for me to feel that way even years down the line??? that’s so rare for me#and this is my fic with the least kudos! the least amount of attention! it goes to show that you never know what folks will like#tmagr was arguably some of my laziest writing; I barely edited ever and I had no Deeper Meaning outside of Aizawa Traumatized and Must Ask#for Help and We Will Force Him To Stop Being Independent to the Point of Self Destruction#and yet that blew up and has so many ppl who loved it#meanwhile I put my heart and soul into a blender and used it to paint for padaw and I remember being so devastated in 2020 when it#didn’t get much praise/attention; now that I’ve grown some I get it and I’m not mad-upset; mostly just bemused lol#kind of a nice growing moment for me to be here rn and just be proud of this fic even without it getting a ton of attention#I like it a lot and that’s what’s important - writing it was good for me and that’s enough :)
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linguistics teacher gave feedback on my presentation and it’s stuff i can’t fix and am embarrassed to have wrong in the first place and knew was going to be an issue but chose to push past and now here we are
#i just don’t have enough fucking data like at all#‘surely the results weren’t all integers. why aren’t there any fractions?’ well you see. it’s because i had 14 recordings and two listeners#the moment my teacher shifts to understand that each data point is exactly what i collected as opposed to an average of what i have….#but it’s fine. it’s fine. in other news guess who dreamed about the spreadsheet i was working on last night#okay how do i say this in a normal way though….#‘hey joe - thanks for the feedback. i had a lot fewer listeners than speakers#so a lot of the numbers are based on one listener each. it’s the main flaw concern with my data but makes for very round numbers’#perhaps. is maybe the only way to say it without just sounding fucking evil about it#anyway i’m cold and tired and i don’t want to go to class…. and i don’t have linguistics today so that part will be an email#my eyes hurt so bad i want to go back to sleep but this is second to last day of class this whole semester#so it’s kind of important that i at least try to participate#also does anyone have links to an npr story about a fading north carolina accent cause i know it exists but i don’t remember where#and my teacher always wants me to cite it but i can’t find it#that sounds worse than it is. my teacher picked out this article for me to use and then i can never track it down when i need it but i can’#complain that there aren’t any sources i can use cause he so clearly described this one to me i just can’t find it. i didn’t invent a sourc#anyways…. i’m cold and tired and honestly plenty annoyed and i want to go back to sleep….#but i will persevere i guess. a little over a week before i can just be free of all these classes#i’m tired when i wake up when i’m opening my eyes when i’m not feeling low i get tired out by the highs (/ly)#my eyes hurt and it’s cold outside the blanket and i have a stomachache and i feel strange. but i will persevere#okay. today i have two classes then i come home have a good call and work on the presentation in question. and perhaps go to a cocoa event#wednesday i have three classes including the actual presenting part of my presentation. and MAYBE a car seat headrest moment at my partner’s#but that’s just wishful thinking on my part and has not been discussed. car seat headrest moment = sleeping together in the literal sense#(it started out ironically on his part and now that’s just how i call it shdhdf)#and anyway then thursday morning either way we go and get breakfast early at like 8:45 and then by 10am i’m at a bus stop about to go home#for a MONTH AND A HALF. and there will still be assignments due in the meantime but so much less. and i’ll sleep a lot more at night i hope#anyways i’m going to be late to latin cause there’s nothing motivating me to pull up. but it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine#idk. i hope everyone is doing well and i’ll be back in a couple hours. i’m just not feeling well#me. my post. mine.#delete later
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𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍
pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader
It must’ve been early when the knocking woke you up. Rolling in the warmth of the bed, you struggled to get up and once you did, you walked towards the door on pure muscle memory, still too tired to proceed with any coherent thoughts.
You opened it automatically, rubbing your heavy eyes and letting out a yawn.
“Ghost, Price and I were thinking that maybe…” you heard a voice you faintly remembered blurt out words you vaguely put together. “Yn? What are you doing in Simon's room?”
Freezing at the spot, your eyes dart open, as wide as they could possibly be, and a burst of energy runs through your body, making your mind jolt alight, finally deciding to work.
“Fuck.” you whisper, as you could hear the sound of objects falling and stumbling steps rushing to your side. Simon, still shirtless, holding up his loose sweatpants and whose mask had been clumsy put on, only one of his eyes properly fitting through it’s proper hole, arrived beside you breathlessly, pulling Gaz into the room and closing the door immediately thereafter.
Pushing the Sergeant onto the unmade bed, it took him a moment to catch his breath, spinning around on the same spot on the floor. He had fixed his mask, and the moment his eyes caught yours you could clearly understand his message.
We’re fucked.
Your eyes were restless, moving from Simon and Gaz so quickly it was making you dizzy. Your hands tugged at Simon’s shirt, dressing you like a dress, but barely covering your legs, ones you were not used to exposing in front of your comrades.
It was awkward, this whole situation an awkward mess you had put you all in.
I’m sorry, you mouthed and pleaded with your eyes as Simon stopped in front of you, his hands reaching for your arm, rubbing it warm, consoling you as much as he could as you two sulked in unwanted company.
“Can you two explain what’s going on?” asked your “guest”. Exchanging glances once more, you two fought over who would break him the news. “Or am I supposed to make my own conclusions?”
“‘S pretty obvious, innit?” Simon replied, dryly.
“I wanted to hear it from you, it looks too surreal.” he said, leaning back and straightening his position, a smirk spreading on his face, amusement evident in his eyes. “The Lt and Yn shagging.”
You looked back at Simon once more, his arms crossed on his chest making his biceps look twice their size, and his clear crunched jawline, probably planning three hundred different ways to murder his teammate. Touching his shoulder, you asked for allowance, watching as he considered the options before nodding in return.
“Gaz.” you called, catching his attention. “We’re married.”
Gaz’s head bobbed forward as his eyes almost jumped out of its socket, questioning the shocking news and his own reality. To confirm your words, showed him your hands, more specifically your ring finger, where a pair of letters, ‘SR’, were tattooed secretly on its side. The Lieutenant followed suit, uncrossing his arms to expose your initials drawn on the same spot in his ring finger.
You two were married. Married, and no one in the base knew it. Hell, they didn’t even know you two had a thing for each other, was going through Gaz’s mind.
“Married?” he repeated, more an affirmation than a question, trying to process it in his head. “I can’t wait till Johnny knows it.”
“Johnny can’t know it.” you immediately cut him. “Please, Gaz. I-it’s…” private, you wanted to add, our lives. But a lump in your throat caught you, feeling everything you’d build crumbling down.
You’d been so careful. You and Simon had taken every possible precaution since the first night you hooked up, not wanting anyone to find out your silly “mistake”, to the day of your wedding two years ago, the most important day in your entire life. And now the secret was done for, days counted even if Gaz were kind enough to keep it to himself.
“Private.” Gaz completed your words after a brief minute of silence, and the hope in your chest grew. “I get it. You know I’m not a snitch.” Standing up, he continued. “Your secret is safe with me.” and extending his hand towards your husband he wished. “Congratulations, Simon.”
Your husband, after second thoughts, shook Gaz’s hand in his, evident force used to make sure a warning was heard: you say anything, you’re dead. However, knowing him like no one else, you notice signs no one would, and the slight drop in his shoulder lets you know he trusted his Sergeant.
“Congratulations you too, Yn.” he turned to you, giving you a tight hug instead, lifting you off your feet for a brief moment before returning you to the floor. “Does this make me the best man over Johnny?”
Fishing for a pillow, Simon threw it straight into Gaz’s head as he rushed out of your room, giggles heading out with him. You too stood laughing, enjoying knowing your secret paradise wasn’t done for yet, and trying to calm down your sulking and annoyed husband.
.
a/n: short drabble to announce i'm now taking simon and other cod men requests ♡
#simon riley x you#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon riley blurb#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley blurb#ghost x reader#ghost riley blurb#ghost cod x reader#ghost cod imagine#ghost riley imagine#cod imagine
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omg would die for a concussion fic with remus <33
—your concussion causes moderate memory loss, and you forget some very important details about your relationship with Remus. fem, 1.3k
“This is nice.”
You toy with the ring on Remus’ finger, turning it around and around and around. With your weight bearing down on his right arm and your hand secured around his left to stop him from moving, there isn’t much he can do besides say, “Yeah?”
“I love when guys wear rings.”
“I had a suspicion.”
You wince as stars flash through your vision, pausing in your toying to press your face into his chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I can see black and white spots.”
“Oh, no,” he says sympathetically. “Close them, dovey. Take a breather.”
The chair under you is uncomfortable, your back aches, your head twinges, but Remus is comfortable to lean again. He’s wearing one of his big hoodies, old enough to feel like brushed cotton under your cheek and against your nose, decals washed away. He steals his hand back to pat your shoulder, an image of patience.
“Sorry. This isn’t a good second date.”
Remus leans down to talk near your ear. “Dove,” he whispers, “this isn’t our second date, remember?”
“It’s not?”
“No, sweetheart. But that’s okay.”
“You’re really handsome so I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Mess what up, the date?” he asks. “You didn’t mess it up, it went very well. It was a year ago, but.” He smiles, his breath warming your face, his arm hot around you and securing you to his chest.
“A year ago?”
“Yeah, a year ago. We went to winter wonderland and the bookshop by the train station and you wouldn’t let me buy you any books.” He laughs softly. “But I got you one eventually. A couple by now, at least.”
“That’s nice.”
“You’ve bought me a hundred more, it’s awful.”
You raise your head to squint at him. “I have?”
“So many,” he whispers, dipping his chin down to kiss your nose, to your wide-eyed delight. “But you let me look after you in other ways.”
“Let you?”
“Yes, let me. It’s part of…” He cups your cheek quickly. “Sickness and health and everything. I have to keep you happy.”
“Ah.” His ring is warm on your cheek. “Sickness and health, like we’re married.”
“Something like that.”
You straighten up as someone behind you coughs aggressively. A little further down a baby cries against a mother’s chest, and the TV plays a quiz show you’re starting to hate. Moving your head has black haunting the sides of your vision again, the light seeping in from the automatic doors too much to handle.
“I’ve asked Sirius to bring you some sunglasses.”
You turn around. “Sirius, that’s the one with the motorbike?”
“Yeah. He should be quick. But maybe they’ll have called you in again by then and we can go home.”
That’s right. You’ve been seen once by a doctor for triage, and sent back out again when they deemed you only mildly concussed, no bleeding on the brain, but an X-ray ordered for safety's sake anyways. That’s what you’re waiting for. Remus is waiting with you, because he’s a very nice man.
“Sorry if I’m ruining your Saturday.”
Remus’ hair falls from behind his ear as he lifts his head properly. “I think you might be having a worse day than me, so I’ll forgive you. I'm joking!” He tucks that stray strand behind his ear unsuccessfully. “You could never ruin my Saturday. I’d spend the entire bank holiday weekend in here with you, I only want them to look after you so I can finish the job.”
Heat like a kiss on each cheek. You bring your hand to your nose, overwhelmed. “Really?”
“We spend a lot of time together, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember right now, but I love you.”
“You do?”
“Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.”
You look at him with the sunshine caressing the side of his face, his three mean scars and his scattered beauty spots. He has thick eyebrows, light brown eyes in the sun like honeyed tea, and a playful smile. More frown lines than smile lines, but the beginnings of crows feet speaks to some joy, at least. You bring your thumb up to a small wrinkle and stroke it, before tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay put for long.
“I love you,” you say surely. You do, even if you can’t remember more than your first date.
He’s a good kisser, you remember. He’d pulled you back from your door and kissed you like you’d stolen the breath straight from his lungs.
“I know.” He brings your hand from his ear to kiss. Gentle, he strokes your knuckles, his thumb turning a golden ring where it sits on your marriage finger.
“It’s really like we’re married, we have matching rings,” you laugh.
He holds his hand up between you. “We are married, lovely girl.”
You steal your hand back. He waits without hurry, though a line of concern marks his brow. “Are we? When did we get married?”
“Only a few days ago, but we’re married. This wasn’t on the honeymoon agenda.”
He takes your hand with care and shows you the gold ring on your marriage finger to match his own, aligning your hands. The colour hadn’t seemed important a moment ago, nor the placement, but now you’re seeing them you realise you’d made a small misjudgement. It’s not like you’re married at all, you simply are.
You frown. The way he’s holding your hand feels familiar, though the idea that you’re married is preposterous. You can’t remember any ceremony or reception, a proposal, nothing. There’s simply blank space there, which isn’t very nice. But…
You’re not scared. You haven’t been worried once all day.
“You have a concussion,” he says quietly, practised, like he’s said it to you before. “And it’s resulted in some amnesia, but it’s going to get better very soon.”
“We’re definitely married?”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“I don’t want to change my mind.” You fluster quickly with what you’ve said, looking down at the hospital’s linoleum flooring.
Remus takes your hand where it lays on your thigh and squeezes it. A thread of memory tugs at the touch; you remember this. His tender concern. His constant support.
“Then you don’t have to. Whether you remember me or not, I’m here to look after you, okay? I’m right here.”
You nod without looking up. His hand knows yours no matter what you remember, rubbing at all the best parts, holding with the perfect amount of pressure.
“You okay?”
“I guess our second date really did go well.”
“Better than I could ever explain.” He tugs at your hand until you look at him, his head already ducked to keep you pinned by his gaze. “You’re like my shy girl all over again. I forgot how nervous you used to get.”
You can see the Remus who became your husband and the one who scared butterflies into action every time he looked at you coalescing. “You’re really good-looking,” you explain.
“And what do you think you are?” He rubs your hand. “You’re beautiful. Can I have a kiss, dove? Is that okay?”
You squeeze your eyes closed. You’d been fighting stars in your eyes anyways.
When Remus kisses you, your body responds to his touch like it knows him. Your heart thuds against your ribs, your lips know exactly how to move and when he’s going to turn his head. Love for him shines through it. His love for you makes your chest hurt, his chaste kissing like a straight shot of oxytocin. All your worry saps away.
“Feel any better?” he asks knowingly.
You remember enough about his teasing to withhold an answer. He kisses your cheek, his smile unmissable on your skin.
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#marauders era#remus x reader#remus x you#marauders#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#marauders x reader#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#the marauders
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Put It In, Coach
Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI
Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader
Word count: 3.4k
Summary: you are an 18 year old high school senior on the cheerleading team, and Joel is the beloved and successful football coach. He helps you with some stretching after practice.
Warnings: SMUT!! The girthiest age gap (18 & 56), consensual but extremely unethical sexual relationship, pervert Joel, power imbalance, dubcon (due to said power imbalance) but I assure you reader is of legal age and enthusiastically consents. piv, oral (m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, semi-innocent reader, blackmail, creampie, twist ending, possibly dark Joel.
A word from the author: This is a repost! Listen, I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. That is fine. Please don’t feel obligated to interact with this fic even if we are friends. It will be fine. I am posting this without making eye contact with anyone.
What is more important in a small Texas town than the high school football team?
Nothing, if you asked most anyone, including of course, head Lions football coach, Joel Miller- Coach Miller, that is. He had lead the team to numerous state titles, securing donations to the football program and filled display cases with trophies and framed team photos. Several former players had even gone on to play in the NFL.
Yeah, Coach Miller is a big deal.
You feel lucky when during your senior year the cheerleading team has to share practice space with the football team. Honored when Coach Miller helps your squad with conditioning. While the football team runs drills, he’s monitoring your time on the treadmill, checking your form during lunges, and helping you really lean into your stretches. He’s so helpful and encouraging. “That’s it, girls, get those knees up! Hustle!” He yelled as he watched you run by in your little shorts and sports bra. The one you took to wearing when you knew he might see.
Coach Miller knew a thing or two about cheerleading too, and he helped your coach to develop a cheer routine. You always blushed when his rough, steadying hands gripped your bare legs or circled your waist to help direct you. You saw how the other girls exchanged looks, but
Coach Miller had experience, he obviously knew enough about cheer. He knew what got crowds excited and lifted team morale. You beamed when he clapped and tucked his clipboard under his arm as you balanced on your teammates shoulders, one knee lifted high, both arms aloft, Pom-poms rustling in the hot Texas breeze. You felt butterflies that fluttered from your stomach down to your throbbing pussy. “Atta girl. You got it!” He praised.
The fawning newspaper articles never mentioned how handsome Coach Miller is. He’s probably in his fifties but you didn’t care. The other girls rolled their eyes, called him an old man. You liked the gray in his hair and beard. You liked the way his body was still so broad and strong, even if his belly was a little softer than it used to be. You liked the way his forearm flexed as he lifted the whistle to blow and get everyone’s attention. “Alright, boys go hit the showers, girls you stay and finish stretching.” Your cheer coach was busy with Megan and Lindsay and Tiffany, so you did your best to go through the regimen on your own.
You stood and twisted at your waist, first to one side, then the other. You spread your legs wide and bent deep to touch your toes, keeping your spine loose. You wanted him to see. “Ugh. He’s watching us.” You heard behind you. “He’s such a creep. He’s like a hundred years old.” “Yeah and you remember what happened with Monica. Nobody’s going to say shit to him.” You listened to the other girls talking, and tried to ignore them. Of course there were rumors about Coach that passed though the girls at school. They were probably just mad that he wasn’t giving them the time of day.
It was easy to forget the other girls and their hateful gossip when you saw that handsome man across the field. You stood and dabbed your shoulder. You winced and rubbed it, drawing the attention of Coach Miller. He jogged over, the muscles of his thighs rippling under his khaki shorts, belly rounding slightly under his royal blue polo shirt, and whistle bouncing as he made his way to you. “What’s ’a matter, sweetheart?” Care and concern painted his dark features, furrowing his brow. “It’s just my shoulder, Coach. I don’t know, it just is pretty sore.” You pouted up at him, giving him your best helpless face. He hummed and nodded. “You girls go on and get cleaned up, we’re done for today. I’ll let your coach know. I gotta deal with this.” He gestured to you, and you bowed your head sheepishly. The rest of the girls scoffed and muttered as they gathered their bags, shooting you looks of disdain and perhaps pity. Good riddance to them.
“Thank you Coach.” You said softly, bashfully. “C’mon, I got an ice pack in my office. Can’t let our rising star get hurt, can we?” You relished his attention. The hallways leading to his office were dark and empty, at 5:30 on a Friday, everyone had gone home. Once inside his office you sat on his desk, cluttered with papers and Gatorade bottles. You swung your legs and leaned back on your palms, letting the hem of your top ride up to expose a sliver of your belly. You hoped he would notice the way it was snug against your breasts. His office smelled like sweat and Lysol, but photos and framed newspaper clippings covered the walls. You used your phone to cover the framed photo on his desk of him and his wife and kid.
When Coach Miller returned with the ice pack, he found you innocently playing with the hem of your short cheer skirt. He hesitated, taking in your long, bare legs, smooth and pretty. He followed the line of them up to where they disappeared under that damn skirt, he wondered what he might find if he flipped it up. Wondered if you had on those little white panties he had seen once when you were practicing cartwheels with the other girls. He wasn’t stupid man. He knew that some of you young girls had little crushes on him. He'd be a liar if he said it didn’t stroke his ego or that he hadn’t jerked off more than a few times behind his locked office door. He would never, ever admit to a few consensual dalliances with a few girls. Always over 18, but always so young and beautiful and eager to please. Was it wrong? When they wanted him? Joel preferred to think of it as a perk of the job.
“Where’s it hurtin’, honey?” Coach Miller asked, his voice much more tender than he ever used with the boys on his football team.
“My shoulder, coach. It’s sore.” He made a sympathetic sound and slowly, carefully began to run his big hands over your arms. “Can you hold ‘em up for me? Good girl.” You held your arms out to the side and he palpated your shoulders, stepped back to look you over, checking for you didn’t know what. It didn’t matter. Your shoulder didn’t really hurt.
Joel frowned. “What is it coach? Is it bad? Your voice was small and wavering.
“No, darlin’ it’s just that I can’t get a good feel for your rotator cuff cause your shirt’s in the way.”
“Oh..”
“Well, here’s the thing, you know we got that big game comin’ up and your coach won’t let ya cheer if you’re hurt. Really would be best if I could just check it out. If nothin’s wrong we ain’t gotta worry your coach over it.” He winked at you conspiratorially.
“What if I just…I could just take this off.” You tried to sound casual. Like it was the most normal thing for an eighteen year old to be topless in a room alone with a 56 year old woodshop teacher/football coach.
“That’s what the boys all do, sugar. Ain’t a big deal, but I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable. I can just go get your coach and she can check ya out.”
There was no way you wanted your coach thinking you were injured. Not when you were gunning for a cheerleading scholarship. Missing any games now was out of the question.
“We don’t need to bother her, Coach Miller. I trust you.”
Joel nodded. “Alright, I’ll tell ya what- I’ll give ya a towel to cover up with. How’s that?”
“Sounds good, Coach. Just, could you help me unzip?” You gave him a little smile over your shoulder and held your hair out of the way for him to drag the zipper down.
Joel stifled a groan when he realized you didn't have a bra on under your little top. His cock was already beginning to swell in his shorts. You shrugged off the blue and yellow top of your uniform and clutched the tiny towel he handed you to your chest. “Is this good, Coach Miller?”
“Yeah that’s good. Real good. Arms straight up, now. Gotta check your rotator cuff.”
You did as he asked, and the towel slipped to your lap and he rubbed and squeezed at your shoulders, peeking over to catch a glimpse of your bare tits. They were so pretty, your hard little nipples making his mouth water.
“Good news. I don’t think it’s anything serious. A little massage and rest is probably all ya need. Couple ibuprofen.”
You thanked him, half heartedly bringing the towel to cover your chest again.
“Just one thing though, I noticed there’s not a current physical on file for you. You know, they take that stuff real serious. I know you’ve been workin’ real hard all year, I think you’ve got real potential and I’d hate for you to throw that away over a little form. If you want, I can give ya a quick check and it’ll be our little secret.”
“Gosh, Coach. You’d really do that for me?”
You knew damn well your physical was on file. You had taken it to the office yourself. It was something you’d been doing every year since you started playing sports in junior high.
“Yeah, won’t take but a minute. Don’t want ya getting in any trouble.”
You sighed gratefully. “Thanks Coach Miller. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Go on and hop up on my desk and I’ll make this quick and easy.”
He moved your arms one at a time, feeling for proper movement. He had you step on a scale and measured your height and weight, commenting that you were “full grown.” He had you bend forward and touch your toes, sliding his fingertips up the length of your spine to check for scoliosis, but taking the opportunity to admire the way your skirt rode up to expose just a bit of your panties, just barely brushing his hard cock over your ass. “Oops!” You dropped the towel, dramatically covering your tits with your hands, squeezing them together.
Joel looked at the form he was half-assing and scribbled on it, before sitting it aside and clearing his throat. “You uh, you do your regular self exams?”
“Self exams?” you blinked at him innocently, hiding the smirk that threatened to break through.
“Breast exams, sweetheart. Gotta make sure everything is like it’s supposed to be. Real important to check. Maybe I better show you how. Why don’t you lay down there and put your arms over your head for me?”
You did as he asked, lying back on his desk and didn’t bother hiding your lustful stare and he slid both hands up your rib cage to cup the underside of your breasts. He squeezed gently, kneading the supple flesh. “You’re doing great, baby.” You whined as he worked his way around your nipples, watching intently as they hardened. “Almost done.” He pinched at your nipples, making you squirm, he pulled gently, and rubbed them under his thumbs before squeezing your tits once more. “I think that’ll do.”
But he didn’t take his hands from you. He ran them over your chest, down your sternum, over your belly to the band of your skirt. He gripped your hips through the rough fabric, forgetting himself, or dropping the act. Either way, he found himself staring at the wet spot on your exposed panties. You bent your knees and rested your heels on the edge of Coach Miller’s desk. “Let’s see if he can resist this!” You’d thought, delighted with the way your plan was working.
Joel had his fair share of girls throwing themselves at him over the years, but you certainly took the cake. In half an hour you’d gone from a shy school girl to a sex starved slut right on his desk. It had been so easy, maybe too easy. Give you a little attention, some praise you weren’t getting at home, some touches like he knew the dumbass boys on his team weren’t going to learn about for another eight to ten years. Joel loved it when his plans worked.
“Something you need, baby?”
“Mhm. My backs kinda stiff. Maybe you could help stretch me. Get me loosened up.”
“This help?” Joel placed his hands on your knees and pushed them up, gently rolling your lower spine as he stood between your legs.he lowered them, letting your covered pussy brush against his rock hard cock, then repeated the motion, pushing your knees a little further each time.
“Feels so good, Coach.” You breathed, hands gripping the sides of his desk.
“Gonna open your hips up, you’re bein’ such a good girl.” He pushed again, letting your knees fall to the side, spreading you wide open. You could feel the way your panties clung wetly to your aching pussy, rendered nearly transparent by the slick that started seeping from you the minute you entered Coach Miller’s office.
Joel couldn’t play this dumb game with you anymore. He squeezed your plush thighs and pushed them down, dragging his thumb over the soaked gusset of your underwear. “I think ya got a bigger problem than a stiff back. Looks like you’re really hurtin’ right here. How long has this pussy been needin taking care of?”
Finally! “All day, Coach. I really need help to make it feel better.”
Joel’s finger slipped under the fabric to slide over your puffy lips.
“I got some other massages and stretches that’ll make this all better. Do you want that?”
“Yes, please! Please Coach.” You nearly shouted at him. If he didn’t do something soon you’d have to try to climb on top of him and just take what you needed. It’s not like you couldn’t see how hard his cock had been since the minute you got your tits out. He was a creep and everybody knew it, but he was too handsome to resist and if his bulging erection was any indication, well…
“Gotta get these panties off.” You lifted your hips for him to slide them off, then stretched your legs and demonstrated your flexibility by pulling your ankles down and holding your legs wide open for him. “Goddamn. Look at this. You do want this, don’t ya? Got so damn wet on my desk from just gettin your tits touched. Are all the girls on your team so slutty?” He marveled at how wet you were, slipping his fingers from your entrance up and around your clit, tapping your pussy firmly with the flat of his hand and groaning at the sticky slapping sounds.
His index finger teased at your opening while his thumb rubbed over your clit. Flames licked at your belly. “Just slutty for you, Coach. Need a real man.”
“Yeah? You need a real man?” He emphasized his words by sinking two thick fingers into you, “I’ll show ya what a real man can do for you, but you ain’t ever gonna be happy with a boy again.” He pumped his fingers into you and to your shock, dripped spit directly from his mouth to your clit. The slip made the sensation even more intense, and you squeezed his fingers as your orgasm crested. “Good, huh? Well, we ain’t done. I got a little more stretching for this tight little cunt.” You’d never heard anyone talk so crudely. You loved it. “Fuck yes, Coach, please. Please!”
Joel’s eyes snapped up from where he was watching his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Watch your language.” You whined and bucked your hips, eager for what you hoped was coming next. Joel worked a third finger into your pussy, the stretch stung and radiated, but faded into a pleasant feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. Not with your inexperienced conquests.
Satisfied that he’d prepared you well enough, Joel hastily unbuckled his belt and let his shorts fall to the floor, weighed down by his wallet and keys. You watched as he tugged his turgid member, the biggest you’d ever seen. “C’mere. Get on your knees a minute. I know you know how to do that.”
“You want me to suck your cock, Coach Miller?”
He huffed at you, amused at your innocent act.
“Open your mouth.” You opened wide and took him deep, gasping and bobbing your head over his tip, hollowing your cheeks. You looked up at him and took him as deep as possible, relishing in the look of devastation that washed over him as you gagged and drooled.
Joel muttered something you didn’t hear before he pulled you off his cock by your hair. “Bend over the desk. Come on.” You did as he asked, and he slicked his cock with your abundant arousal, slapping the head on your ass a couple times, then held the base of his cock in one hand, and gripped your hip with the other. Slow and steady he pushed into you, taking his time until he was fully sheathed, hips flush against your ass. He waited there, leaning his forehead against your back and reaching under you to grab your tit.
“So fucking tight. Tightest pussy I think I ever felt. You’re not a virgin are you?” You shook your head. You weren’t a virgin. He was your third. He was your biggest and best. It would be hard to top him, you mused until he dragged his length out of you and slammed back in with more force. He did that a few times- pull out slow, slammin hard. Slow, hard, slow, hard. Then he switched it up, pushing your knee up into the desk he favored slow, deep strokes so he could watch how your pussy gripped him and sucked him back in, wetting his cock with your slick, so wet it dripped down to his balls.
He smacked your ass, leaving handprints on the unblemished flesh. “Fuck yeah, baby. Just like that. Taking this cock so good. Feel ya squeezing me so tight. Cock hungry little slut making me fuck her. Fuckin beggin for this dick.” He gritted filth through clenched teeth. You reached down to rub your clit, and let your hand wander further, feeling where your bodies joined, stretching your fingers to catch his balls as he pounded mercilessly into you. He smacked your ass hard, then reached up to hold your shoulders and his movements became uneven. “Coach, please! Please, come in my little pussy!” You’d heard that in porn and thought it sounded good.
Joel’s eyes squeezed shut tight as he let go, filling you with rope after rope of cum. You moaned, feeling him pulsing deep inside.
There was no kiss afterward. No hugging, no cuddling. Joel handed you the little towel to clean up with, Carter he watched his spend drip out of your wrecked pussy and onto the fabric of your skirt. He wished he had a picture of it. You wiped away what you could and put your shirt back on, your panties had disappeared and at 6:15 there was no time to look for them now. Coach Miller promised he would find them for you. You gathered your phone and backpack. He squeezed your shoulder as he walked you out to the main hallway and cleared his throat. “You know, if anyone found out about this, it could ruin your shot at any kind of scholarship. You might not even get into college at all. Now, I know you young girls make mistakes and I’m not going to tell anyone as long as you keep up your grades and your practice. If I hear about ya being a slut, though, I’ll have to inform the principal for your own good. Don’t make me do something we would both regret, sweetheart. Ya understand?”
“Yes, Coach. I understand.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief. He had seven years until he could retire. He wasn’t sure how many more pretty little seniors would come sniffing around, but he thought maybe he should try to stop giving in to every doe eyed little slut that came along. Oughta try other ways of keeping his dick wet.
On Monday Joel was at his desk, drinking coffee, making out a supply request form for his woodshop lesson plan when his phone chimed. A message from an unknown number had sent an attachment. He squinted at the screen, and froze in horror when he saw his own face looking back at him, he was perfectly framed in the shot, a still from a video, and there you were, smiling at the camera underneath him. The message that followed was short. “See you after practice, Coach.”
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#Joel miller fix#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller tlou#smut#pedro pascal character smut#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#bat writes
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Technically, I didn't stay up.
Just you and Spencer being fluffy when he comes home from work and falling asleep in each other's arms.
Spencer Reid X GN! Reader.
DISCLAIMER
This story is completely SFW, minors do not interact regardless!
You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
Word count: 1K
See notes at end for authors note, any spoilers & update schedules.
I was listening to Margaret when I initially started writing this:
Spencer’s abnormal work hours were something you were entirely used to. You never knew when he was going to be called away and although he would text you when a case wrapped up, it was never a guarantee that he was going to make it home. Actually more often than not, he was usually hauled right back in for another case. What could you do? Serial killers didn’t really care about his convenience. Regardless, you always insisted on being present to greet him at the door, even if it meant testing your sleep schedule.
from: Spence ❤️
20:42 | The jet took off not too long ago. We should land in roughly five hours. Please don’t force yourself to wait up.
20:42 | I love you!
You were quick to respond to everything except the not waiting up part. Your plan hadn’t actually gone that smoothly, you’d fallen asleep on the couch not long after making yourself comfortable there. You didn’t hear him unlock the door. He took extra care to be as quiet as possible when abandoning his shoes and satchel at the entrance. He even put a lot of thought into making his steps as light as possible when he began to make his way to the bedroom, only to spot you curled up on the couch.
He smiled to himself at the sight in front of him. The only lighting was a small lamp in the corner of the room, but to him, you were the brightest presence in the room. Your expression was neutral and your breaths shallow as you lay dead to the world. You looked so peaceful, he considered it to be almost criminal if he were to disturb you. He couldn’t just leave you there though. It wasn’t good for your body to be curled into a cramped position.
Spencer made his way over to you, crouching down next to your face. He couldn’t help but admire whatever features were visible. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Honey?” he whispered when he pulled away. His voice was so soft. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted you to be comfortable in your own bed. “Hmm?” Your brain registered his voice, but it took your body a second to register his presence.
Spencer still had a hand in your hair, lightly stroking it. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily before they shut again. “You’re back!” You mumbled groggily, reaching out to brush your fingers against his hand. “I am!” He whispered gleefully. Your other hand made its way to his face so you could stoke his jaw. You could feel a little bit of stubble coming in. Spencer’s ears perked up at the little giggle that came out of you when you dropped from the couch into his lap and wrapped yourself around him.
“I’m sorry to wake you. I did tell you not to stay up.” His long arms swallow you into his embrace as he speaks.
“Technically, I didn’t stay up.” You counter letting your hand make its way into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Sleeping on a surface that isn’t firm enough can contribute to back pain and because the surface of a couch tends to be softer than a mattress, it might not offer enough support for your back. Also, falling asleep while sitting up on a couch could result in your head pushing forward, which puts stress on the neck. Sleep posture is an important predictor of stiffness, back pain, and neck pain, according to several studies.”
“Thank you Doctor. I remember why I missed you so much.” You pull back as you speak. “Who else is going to be as concerned about my sleep posture as you?”
“I missed you too.” He scoffs in amusement and smiles into the kiss you lean in for.
You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck when you feel a yawn coming. “Let’s go to bed, okay?” He whispers, sensing your sleeping demeanour.
“Only if I can take you with me.” You whisper into his skin. He huffs a small laugh as he pushes you off him so he can stand and offers his arms down to you. You grab them and he pulls you up. Neither of you let go of each other's hand as you walk into the bedroom. “I’m just going to brush my teeth first, then I’ll be right with you.” Spencer announces. Still ever the germaphobe.
“I’m gonna join you, that nap made my mouth all dry.” You follow behind him. Spencer grabs both of your toothbrushes and holds them out, as you grab the toothpaste and squeeze an equal amount on each brush. You then take yours out of his hand and the two of you begin brushing. You’re both trying to make up for his time away by leaning into each other, stealing glances in the mirror and smiling if you get caught.
When you both finish up in the bathroom, you make your way back to the bedroom together. It's like both of you are incapable of being away from each other right now, even for a second. Spencer decides against changing into more comfortable clothes, wanting nothing more than to hold you. He joins you under the comforter, immediately pulling you as close to him as possible.
Neither of you have enough energy in you for conversation right now, you’re still sleepy from your previous nap and Spencer is entirely drained from the case. Still, you acknowledge each other through light touches and kisses. Spencer’s hand now makes its way to your hair while you draw little patterns against his chest.
‘I missed u’
‘I <3 u’
‘♡’
‘:)’
He doesn’t recognise the little messages, but he appreciates the feeling all the same. You begin drifting off into sleep, revelling in the warmth emitting from him. Spencer smiles when he hears light snores coming from you. He truly considers himself the luckiest man alive. You don’t hear it but before he drifts off himself, he makes his feelings known to the universe in a light whisper.
“I love you so much you know. I’m gonna marry you someday.”
Spoilers: Fluff, Domestic! Spencer, entirely fluffy & domestic. Literally a comfort blurb for the people who take hot showers for too long and just need a hug.
AN - Hey so sorry for any errors, I drafted this in like 20 minutes to make up for the fact that my originally planned story for today would not be complete in time. Enjoy this short blurb. I was in a salty mood and made an entirely angst blurb too, but decided fluff was what society needed today. Also sorry for the shitty fucking title, my brain is shutting down.
Also side note - I’m a WHORE for domestic! Spencer. I just loveeeeee when everyday tasks become so cute and fluffy and romantic. PLEASE recommend domestic Spencer stories!!!
Update Schedule: Original plan drops Monday or Tuesday (Sunday or Monday night EST time). (soooo apparently I'm a liar)
Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)
Thank you for reading!
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fandom#ssa spencer reid#bau team#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#domestic spencer reid#fluff#fluff fic#blurb#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x gn reader#gn reader#Spotify
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I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).
I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense.
That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it.
And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit.
And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims?
Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.
Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing?
And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased?
Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.
He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own.
Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends.
Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.
You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust.
And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.
Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.
Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.
Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.
#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#baldur’s gate iii#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 astarion#astarion headcanons#smooth brain astarion I will defend you until you can do it yourself#trauma can give you literal brain damage#of course he's a little eccentric#tw: trauma#tw: abuse#smooth brain astarion
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ㅤㅤㅤ— 🎀 cockwarming lawyer!abby 𐚁 18+
ㅤdaily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post
she’s tried so hard to focus on her work. focus mainly and solely on a new case— a case that she has wanted for months, and has finally been given the all go to take it. have at it. make it hers. but she made the mistake of working on it with you at home. she can smell your fruity perfume from here. the perfume she could spend hours smelling on your neck when she’s kissing and biting you there. can practically taste the cherry chapstick on your lips. the same one you’ve always used. she still remembers the first time you kissed and refused to let you change it. you didn’t have work today, so it was your lazy day. lounging around the apartment. catching up on your TV shows. making a new dish you had seen in your cookbook later than evening, if you wished to.
“baby?”
you hummed from the living room— or you said something, she wasn’t really sure. she sure as hell wasn’t paying any attention if you had spoken, abby was more focused on the way you licked your fingers after each strawberry you picked up from the container, and ate it. moaning at the taste. moans that always had her head spinning, no matter what the occasion was.
“can you come here? please?” god was she actually already begging? yes. did she care? apparently not. she just needed to feel you. hold you. hell, even look at you.
unbuttoning her suit jacket like she had suddenly gotten hit with a massive heat wave just from watching you, abby heaved out a quiet sigh, and leaned back in her chair. just in time to spot you walking over to her. smiling mischievously and finishing the last strawberry.
“what’s up?” came your soft voice. fingers threading through her soft blonde hair, nails scratching comfortingly at her scalp. your body melted into her touch when she’s wrapping her arms around your legs, and pulling you into her lap. your lips parting quickly with a gasp when you can feel the strap in her pants, that she always insisted on wearing just in case, against your cunt. “abs—”
“need to feel you” was she drunk? “please. just—” god she was so weak for you. so weak for everything and anything you did that she would do anything for you. “let me feel you” she murmured, her blue— hooded eyes meeting your slightly wide yet sparkling ones and she couldn’t keep her hands in one place when you smiled down at her.
“wouldn’t that be distracting for you, Miss Anderson?” you truly were a tease, weren’t you?
“don’t care, need to feel you” was all she said, lustfully. horny.
her eyes watched you like a hawk. like she always did really. she never wanted to miss anything. first they trailed over the slice of your nose, to the way your lips twitched, almost into a smile at her eagerness of needing you. to your soft eyes that looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
god you were truly such a beauty.
if she had spent any more time looking at your face, she would have missed the way you climbed off her lap, grinned at the way she bites down on her lip when you looped your fingers into the thin material of your panties and pulled them down, still maintaining eye contact. you were aware of how much that drove her crazy. “are you sure this won’t distract you? you could never really focus on anything else when i would sit on your cock, baby” you lifted your shoulders up in a small shrug, biting back a smirk when all abby did was scoff. “okay well, don’t blame me if you get none of your work done”
abby rolled her eyes, and threw her head back slightly. the action had her completely missing you kicking your panties— oblivious to the wet patch on them, to the side, but she didn’t miss the way your fingers fumbled with her belt. the sight was enough to always have her losing all remaining cool. especially when you’d sit on your knees, giggle and wink up at her.
her breath hitched in her throat when you climbed back on her onto her lap. the shirt you were wearing— most probably hers, rolled up just slightly and her hands quickly found home on your thighs, stroking your skin with her thumbs slowly. “just—”
“abigail, if you tell me how to sit on your cock, i will get dressed, go out for dinner alone and leave you here to finish your work” you warned, squinting your eyes down at her.
“right, m’sorry” the blonde nodding, a blush coating the apples of her cheeks at your words. what the fuck was going on? how is she the one that’s shy right now?
those blue eyes flicker to your face when you’re placing one of your hands on her broad shoulders, and for a second abby can’t fucking breathe when she turns her head slightly at the perfect time to find you dribbling a thick glob of spit on the tip of the silicone, giggling under your breath and using your other hand to spread it around. “fuck” her voice suddenly breaking the longer she watched.
her hands were quick to sit higher on your hips, while one of yours gripped her shoulder tightly when you’re running the tip of the silicone through your folds, lips parting with soft gasps, and all abby can do is just fucking stare. watch you rub it back and forth a few times, nudging it against your hole before you chuckle, your eyes flicking up to hers. you were teasing her. you knew how much she loved to see you sinking down on her cock, and you weren’t giving her what she has wanted since she got home.
“sorry, baby. you just look really cute when you’re flustered and impatient” you giggled, placing a kiss right between the crease of her eyebrows, and sinking on her strap slowly. sucking in deep breaths at the stretch.
you were going to be the death of her one day.
your face was hot, forehead already starting to trickle with sweat when she whispered soft ‘it’s okay’ and ‘take your time’ into your ear. her bigger hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing at your skin gently, and feathered kisses up and down your neck. as much as she needed to just to feel you close, she never rushed you. you were right about one thing though, was she going to be able to focus?
she was going to have to trust her gut and just take one for the team.
you, on the other hand, were not focused at all. not with how she was shifting around in her fucking chair, her hips accidentally jolting upwards and you were biting down on your lip harshly when the silicone slipped deeper, nudging against your walls. the true question was how were you going to sit here, snuggly keeping her cock warm for the remaining time she had on her work without a single piece of attention?
just as she had went to pick up her pen for the 100th time today, abby clenched her jaw tightly at the sudden whines coming from you. you were trying so hard to bury your face in her neck and keep them muffled by her skin, but it was failing miserably. “baby, i know—” she murmured, tightening her arm around your waist. “just want you close. need to feel you. haven’t been this close to you in weeks. and m’sorry—”
you weren’t making this any easier on her, not with the way you were slowly moving around on her lap, and it’s like she can fucking feel you. the point of the pen hasn’t even hit the paper yet and she’s wanting nothing more than to push all her work onto the floor and make you cum as many times as you want. the way her arm was holding onto you had your brain cloudly, already drunk on the heavy feeling of the pine body wash she had used this morning. “abs—” you whimpered, tightening your arms around her neck, slowly rocking your hips back and forth, and letting out quiet gasped breaths with each movement.
the way you said her name had her reeling, brain going into overdrive, and grip tightening on your body. she didn’t understand why she thought this idea would work. having you in her lap, sitting on her cock, looking pretty, and waiting patiently for her to be done, would be the best idea but she just missed you so much. sure, you were in the same home as her, but to her, you felt so far away on that couch and she needed you so close that not even a sheet of paper would fit between you both.
she turns her head and presses a kiss on your cheek, hips bucking up when she’s trying to get a little more comfortable, and she gritted her teeth when you abruptly nipped and bit at her neck, warning her. your fingers still thread through her hair, tugging and pulling at random strands, trying to distract yourself— though that wasn’t helping her, for even 30 minutes give or take. already wanting nothing more than her to be done, or at least give your attention some clit. but she wasn’t even doing that. “abby, please—”
“i promise i will be done soon, and you will have all my attention, okay?” she tried to compromise, key word try— she was trying not to grind her hips up into you, and fuck you like you deserve each time you let out a whimper next to her ear, but she was regretting this entire thing. having your pretty girlfriend warming your cock while trying to work wasn’t ever going to end in a good way until you were done with what you were doing. “i need you here, please— just for a while, and i promise i will give you whatever you want” she pleaded, screwing her eyes shut tightly when you’re shifting around on her lap, the back of the strap rubbing her clit.
her words went in one ear and right out the other. you could barely focus on the way her lips moved, let alone focus on what she was saying. you were only thinking about how deep she was, how perfectly the silicone filled you up. you were soaked, no doubt about it, you were sure you were dripping onto her pants, but if you were, neither you or abby mentioned it.
the pen was moving quickly against the paper, finally gained enough composure to start writing— jesus christ, has it only been a few minutes since she asked you over here? a few minutes that you’ve been snuggly sitting on her cock? god. abby was biting back her smirks and stifling back subtle laughs when you suddenly let a out a high-pitched whine, the hand she had on your waist had moved, and slipped under her shirt and gripped one of your tits in her huge hands. pinching, pulling, and rolling your hardened nipples between her fingers.
“you’re doing so good, baby. just sit here looking all pretty for me for a little longer” she mumbled, slowly grinding her hips up, blue eyes flickering up to your face and found your eyes fluttering closed and sinking your teeth into your lower lip. you were already so far gone that you barely registered the huge grin on her fucking face. “just keep my cock warm, and you can have whatever you want when i’m done filling this report. I’ll fill you up so good tonight for being a good girl, my good girl, okay?” was she taunting you? moving her hips so slowly, grinding up into you just to tease you, warn you of what was coming later when you finally had all her attention?
“m’your good girl” you nodded, pressing your head against her shoulder. drunk and delirious on her. her sweet yet deep and raspy voice. her pine-scented body wash. her hand on your tits, switching between the two so the other wasn’t left out. everything about her, and everything she was doing— fuck, she was only talking to you and lightly touching you, but it was enough to have more slick pooling between your legs and your body melting more into her chest. “m’your good girl” you repeated, wrapping your arms around her neck.
“you are, baby” the blonde hummed, eyebrow quirking up, watching the way you’re slipping your hand down to between your legs, gasping into her neck when your fingers find your clit. whining in protest when abby’s quick to remove her hand from one of your tits just to grab your hand and pin your arm behind your back. “be my good girl, yeah?” she growled, clenching her jaw tightly.
“i need—”
“i know what you need, and i will give it to you when i am finished. don’t make me shove your panties into your mouth to get you to behave, baby. although, i can’t do that, you’d fucking love that too much” she’s scoffing, tutting under her breath, and grinding her teeth together when you’re moving your hips again.
you’re lifting your head from her shoulder when her fingers grip your chin between them lightly, smirking at the sight of your tongue running over your lips, slowly running it over her thumb. and she sucks in a deep breath when you’re wrapping your lips around her thumb, pulling it onto your mouth and sucking greedily. “yeah, there you go, baby” she nodded, jaw slack and eyes wide. “imagine it’s my cock, and let me finish up here then you can get the real thing”
still kinda rusty, idk how to feel about this but i missed lawyer!abby 🤍🎀
#lawyer!abby#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson smut#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby tlou2#abby the last of us#abby anderson fic
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