#its just so hard to express and so infuriating to think about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simplyreveries · 3 months

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"and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'"

riddle rosehearts

riddle feels such a strange feeling in his chest, he hates it. he feels nervous as you make his chest squeeze and filled with pressure every time, you're near— it washes away as soon as you turn and talk to him. he feels frustrated because he finds himself unable to focus, unable to think clearly when all he sees you. you make him feel such a sense of comfort, he feels like he can fully let his guard down and tell you everything about him if you asked and it scares him. he has looked into how he is feeling, tried asking trey bashfully or read books, things online how he could possibly cope with this sickness.

more often than not he’s drawn to observing and noticing everything about you, your little quirks, expressions, comments, when your right in front of him now, laughing and talking freely amongst your friends around him happily helping out and cleaning up a little. he doesn't seem to be near nor saying a word but only mesmerized as he watches from a distance, he feels so much in a daze of this realization that he doesn't snap out when you walk over to him, he looks at you with a distressed look.

"... have you ever been in love?"

leona kingscholar

despite leona’s intelligence and knowing just exactly what he is feeling about you, he is stubborn at heart. he absolutely hates what you're doing to him, he can't even sleep and take a nap in peace without you invading his thoughts. it looks like he’s angry at you or frustrated, really but it's just him unable to handle the emotions you make him experience. he is infuriated with how he succumbs to the jealously that you make him feel when you're with others, that he feels need to want that attention back on him. still, you talk and find him, usually talking his ear off about something random and some event that occurred to you today.

he has his eyes closed but still listens to you. sometimes you’ll join a game of chess with him, to which he usually takes the pride in winning. he never really questioned as to why you're so persistent on befriending or even just being around him, perhaps you warmed up to him when he cracked and gave into letting you and grim stay at his dorm when yours was practically taken over. his demeanor around you is small, but noticeable. sometimes you'd tease and laugh, you tell him "you must love me" his eyes are kept on you with his eyebrows raised, but he wouldn't say anything to deny.

"do you really wanna make me say it?"

azul ashengrotto

azul finds his demeanor collapsing around you, when he tries to play his cool-headed, business oriented, cleverly scheming person with a smug grin that turns into a stupid smile because he finds himself too nervous around you and so happy being close to you. any attempt he makes to be "suave" around you, it only shows what a hopeless man he is. he feels like he has to look like he absolutely is perfect in front of you, how else would you fall for him? nevertheless, you always seem to be able to see right through him and he hates that. he doesn't want to feel vulnerable, its icky to him.

he watches you after hours in the mostro lounge as you hum and finish closing and cleaning up with him and some others, however now it only seems to be you and azul. he knows he shouldn’t be staring but he tells himself just a few moments more, he always found you under the lighting to be mesmerizing. he hears you telling him about something silly that happened while you were serving, he hears you but can't focus as his mind is running with a million thoughts, if you ask him what it is, he clears his throat and carefully adjusts his glasses, replying slowly.

“i just... love you”

kalim al-asim

his feelings hit so hard, as soon as he got them, he loved it and wanted more of the adrenaline and high of being completely enamored with someone. he loved all the little things that happens throughout the day that makes him so giddy and happy he thinks about it as he tries to sleep, excited for tomorrow to come to see you. kalim feels like he is literally your other half, always wanting to be right beside you.

he finds himself daydreaming quite often, of what it'd be like to be yours, even the thought of you giving him a kiss on the cheek has him flushed. of course, you’d find himself at his celebrations and parades he holds at his dorm. he'd always try to get you to dance, grabbing your hands and jumping up and down with you laughing at least. kalim feels like he can say anything to you and thats exactly what he does. he grabs your hands and bring it up to his face near his lips.

"i love you!"

vil schoenheit

he had his apprehensions; you were more so just someone he knew and eventually because dormmates during his stay with the others at ramshackle. vil had always seemed so drawn to you, if you notice him staring and give a nervous, confused look he'll smoothly adjust something on you. it looks like he can see right through you at times, it didn't take long for him to believe what a genuinely good soul you are in this school. when you and the others were dealing with the events that unfolded when dealing with idia and STYX, when vil had hugged you and pressed a kiss to your forehead he realized just how fully he was deep in this. he pulled away and stared at you for a moment with his hands gripped on your arms that took a longer to fully pull away.

you've sparked such an interest in him, he practically found himself becoming infatuated over time. you'll find yourself within his dorm as he carefully applies makeup to your face-- he adores doing but he can't help but feel amused with a smile creeping to his face when he feels how strangely intimate it feels between you too with him so close. he looks at you with the dreamiest daze, he'll pinch your cheek lightly before moving to grab something else.

"i cant believe i've fallen for you"

idia shroud

he stares and fidgets on his phone nervously, biting his already scarred lip-- he is staring at your contact. he wants to get it off his chest, he wants to get it out of the way if you're reciprocating and feel the same way to someone like him. ortho practically bugs him all the time to, confident and laughs even when he brings up the idea- ortho knows you and thinks idia will be successful and pleasantly surprised with your answer. idia hates that he can't help the way he feels around you, he feels a sense of relief and comfort when you're near- like he doesn't need to be absolutely on edge.

yet as soon as he felt that sensation around you, he eventually turned into his fear because of his infatuation he has around you only grew. he feels his mouth goes dry and struggles to finds something to say when he's looking right at you. you'll still see his moments where he's rambling about something he built or a media he is enjoying but he grows back more into his shell of anxiety when he realizes how much he feels. he considers you perfect and honestly, far out of his league. there was no one someone like you would possibly fall for someone like him. still, idia has found himself to be a pathetic mess when it comes to you and quickly presses send.

"I think i love you"

malleus draconia

surprisingly, out of all of them - i feel like its him that falls for you the quickest. he found himself to be so smitten with you as soon as he accidentally stumbled upon you when it was unbeknownst to him that you were living in the ramshackle dorm now. he admires you, you've shown anything but fear around him and made him feel seen. he truly believes its fate that you somehow found yourself all the way to twisted wonderland and you two had met each other, he tends to find his mind drifting and thinking about that a lot. despite you possessing no magic, he still sometimes will tell you even before confessing that you must hold something. malleus won't give you an exact answer as to why he thinks that yet– being playful and mysterious as he quietly laughs to himself. you stumbled into this unknown world and made him this infatuated. he can't take his eyes off of you during the nights you find yourself talking to him, he watches you look at the nature, as he often shares you the beauty of it in the late hours.

"you've bewitched me, havent you?"

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pearlywritings · 1 month

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A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly.

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge.

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?”

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan.

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it.

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff

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theplumsoldier · 5 months

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sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #partner!joel miller

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sixosix · 10 months

Text

cw injuries, desc of blood, scara patching reader up, profanity bc its a sixosix fic AND it’s scara, wc 500

for @scarahearts the craziest scara main

“so annoying,” wanderer hisses under his breath, cursing again. his breath is on your skin, almost as scorching as the scowl he’s wearing. “infuriating. is your hobby getting on people’s nerves?”

“is your hobby degrading your patients?” you retort, then yelp when he tightens the bandage a little too hard. “ow— fuck you!”

he smirks smugly at your defeated glare, but it fades quickly and back to a frown when blood seeps from the cloth.

you murmur and fidget, “sorry for inconveniencing you.”

his gaze snaps up, sharp. that was probably the wrong thing to say.

“thanks for helping me…?” you try instead. he rolls his eyes.

wanderer stares at your plastered arm for a moment too long, eyes tracing the curve of your elbow, where blood is seeping and staining the once beige bandage dirty red. he then sneers, a snarl of teeth; you can almost see in his eyes where he’s replaying the exact moment you were picked up and thrown to the ground.

you almost want to say that shouki no kami did the same thing to you (read: the balladeer himself), but you have a feeling that those canines aren’t for show, and he’ll end up biting your arm off or something.

you’re startled out of your skin when he suddenly grabs your chin with his hand, rough and demanding you to get a clear view of his displeased expression. ...and yet the grip he has on your injured arm is gentle. a mess of contradictions, a push and a pull, a scowl and a brush of skin—hate, and love.

“when will it get in your fucking head—” he enunciates each word by pulling you closer and closer to him, until your faces are a heavy breath away, “—that you have travel companions for a reason? am i just for show? a doll for you to show off?”

instinctively, you back away, a little bit of fear racing in your heart at the familiar hostile face he’s making. “it’s not that! it’s— i wasn’t— thinking.”

“right. because nothing ever goes in that pretty little head of yours,” wanderer muses, readily agreeing.

“hey,” you fume, face burning.

“you disagree? prove me wrong, then.” he still doesn’t let go of your face. and although puppets do not need to breathe, there’s warm air shared between the two of you where his lips are in close distance with yours. “prove to me that you aren’t forgetting i can fight just as well as you. that i am completely capable of protecting myself and you.”

“that’s not…” you want to say that your little incident didn’t involve any of that, but his gaze is fierce. you realize that it may not be your intention, but it might be what came off to him. “...okay.”

after a beat, you add; an afterthought, “you don’t have to protect me. you saw that i was able to beat their asses easi—” at his unimpressed stare, you correct yourself, “—with a bit of slipping here and there. still, i won.”

“not without an almost severed arm.”

without thinking too much about it, you say, “let’s protect each other, then.”

surprise flits across wanderer’s expression before it settles into something like muted satisfaction. “don’t make it a promise, so you can’t break it.” it’s the closest you can get a ‘yes’ out of him.

im gonna be honest i dont know where this came from like i literally tokd myself if im gonna write a genshin fic itll be HEIZOU. but this bitch held me hostage at 2am with a phone and google docs open — and then i made it happen fr for ellie cus we both lost our minds over the scara art in the 3.8 stream

#606:GENSHIN #??#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche drabble #x reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader

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lucidloving · 29 days

Text

I learned how to be quiet about pain when I was very young. I learned how to fold in on myself like laundry, to take up less space in the cupboard. I learned how to keep the peace around me by sweeping the dirt under my own rug.

I have been taught that expressing my less favourable emotions is just complaining—something weak people do when they're too incompetent to solve their own problems.

Incompetent. Incompetent. This word is very important to me. Incompetent is the word I am always running from. To run from incompetency means to run from feeling dejected, feeling lost, feeling hurt. To run from incompetency is to run towards goodness. To run towards a me who knows all the answers and shoulders all the burdens and shrugs off all the pain.

Some days I am not very good at this race I am running. Days when the past lurches forward to bite my ankles, or days when the future looks back to scorn my present.

On these days I am weak. The poise slips. It's all too easy to cry a little and vent my fears. I forget that I am supposed to be keeping all of this shut away where no one else can see. I forget that I am not supposed to be dragged down by these feelings in the first place.

Today I feigned nonchalance and I feigned it well. No one noticed that I was hurt by the thing that happened, and sitting alone in all my hurt, I was bitterly gratified. I had fulfilled the proper narrative of an animal who is injured and returns to its cave to lick its wounds only in private.

But there is a desperation for the hidden pain to be noticed. This is the Achilles' Heel of the whole stealth operation; it threatens the little play I have constructed in which I suffer alone and inconvenience no one and am all the stronger for it.

Today I stood upright to talk to my mother and doubled over in pain the moment she left the room. It is satisfying, knowing I did the valiant and honourable thing of keeping the damn pain to myself. It is infuriating, the way my eyes flickered to the door in the dark and private hope that she would come back in and witness me while I was down.

I want to be strong and hide all the hard things away. I want someone to see my efforts to hide all the hard things away and realise I'm strong. I want to bring to life this character I have created who suffers without complaint and is loved when the truth is revealed. Who suffers well.

This is the person who stores up agony to a breaking point, to justify the ultimate snapping of composure. This is the person who wants to be depended on relentlessly and one-sidedly, so that someone someday might notice the unfairness of it all. This is the person who virtuously and righteously take all the hits without a sound, so that when they finally, inevitably break, their pain will come to light all at once and inspire awe and guilt in equal measure.

Who am I, really? Is it terrible to want to play this character? Perhaps some old wound craves acknowledgement and understanding and doesn't know how else to ask for it except by hiding until it festers.

Strength. Competency. Resilience. Dependability. Independence. They have all become synonyms in my black and white dictionary. They have all become straws for the drowning man.

I self-impose silence. I take pleasure in denial and secrecy. I take pride in successfully keeping a problem to myself.

Pride. That's another important word. I think I have too much of it, although it pains me when others point it out. Pride implies I think highly of myself, which is something a good person should never do. Pride is so audaciously self-absorbed, so high-and-mighty, so filthy with ego. There's probably a lot of it in this damn thing I've written.

Pride is the other thing that keeps my mouth shut. The thing that says I should be austere, untouchable, immovable. Pride is the thing that says look here, you don't have a lot going for you so you better keep this mask on right if you want to be good. If you want to be admired.

These terrible things keep me safe. I can't let go of that stupidly noble character or that cowardly pride. I need them to shield me from the reality that I am emotional, not all that put together, and honestly hopeless most of the time.

I need to have something worth liking about myself. I need to have a grit that makes me undeniably good. I need to have a strength that goes unsung, that lies in wait of discovery.

What an exhausting way to live. But it's the only way I know.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 11 months

Note

Hey I realy like your yandere twisted wonderland x kny post(s). Can I ask for the yandere dorm leaders react to (platonic and non-yandere) Tsutako Giyu blocking any of the leaders' romantic advancements toward their tanjirou!reader, because Giyu does not trust the leaders at all? Please and thank you,take care of yourself.

Tomioka Giyuu Blocking Tanjiro Reader| Yandere Twisted Wonderland

While Tsutako would certainly do that if you were her sibling but what would an average woman be able to do for you against a bunch of magical suitors stalkers. Tomioka is the one who’d really be an obstacle. No one seems to like him, let alone notice him half the time but his words are golden to you and the boys are having quite a lot of trouble getting past him. Giyuu himself may think he’s trash but you are most certainly not. You’re walking perfection and if he’s going to use the placeholder position of Hashira he’s using it to protect you:

Idia Shroud

“Whoa!? When did you get here?!”

“A couple minutes ago.”

“Oh…okay then…”

“...”

“If you bring that device anywhere near (Y/n) I’m slicing your legs off.”

He first thought Giyuu was like him

A fellow loner who could understand his desire to have you

And he found that Giyuu was a loner

Just not one that was friendly to him

And he’s more than aware of Idia’s influence but that won’t matter when Giyuu’s faster than Ortho when it comes to his blade

“A-a worthy opponent h-has entered the chat!”

Leona Kingscholar

“They won’t have to die fighting that demon king or whatever. Don’t you want that?”

“I want them to be the next water Hashira and if you’re going to get in the way of that I know over 46 pressure points on your body that will temporarily paralyze you.”

He didn’t like him from the start

He’s expression, his face, all of it infuriates him

Not to mention he really is that much faster than him

Leona’s going to have to try another tactic to get this guy off your back

“Maybe we’re not hearing each other right. How about you put down the sword and then try stopping me?”

Vil Schoenheit

“You seem really intent on getting in my way…is this jealousy?”

“It's not but you remind me of someone horrible.”

“Oh? Is it yourself?”

“Nope it's a horrible woman named Shinobu Kocho.”

He’s no match for him physically

But his charisma greatly exceeds Giyuu’s

Something he’s sure to remind the Hashira of with every chance

But since Giyuu doesn’t seem to sway he’s got to be more conniving

Which should be fine for someone with poisons against a sword

“Hope this isn't your first time playing with poisons because it may be your last.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“You might be interested in knowing the future, right? Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

“You sound like a demon.”

“Oh? Am I a handsome one at least?”

“I kill demons for a living.”

“...oh..”

Azul’s own charm doesn’t save him here and it's killing him

He already has to woo you

and this guy isn’t budging

The twins won’t bother him

And he won’t even look at a contract

This octopus is getting desperate

“You won’t like me when I’m cornered Giyuu.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What?! Why would you want to leave? I have more of that bread you like!”

“Nice try but we have a job to get to.”

“But how do you plan to do your job when you’re going to get hurt?”

“That shouldn’t matter to a civilian like you!”

While Giyuu is entranced by the way Kalim seems to like him

He’s sure its a trick

And he can’t afford to die before giving you his title

“Hey. Don’t leave, we were just having fun!”

Malleus Draconia

“Why would you leave this place? If you are certain you are going to die, why bring my (Y/n) with you?”

“I’m not bringing them anywhere, this is their decision. Don’t you want to honor their avenging of their family?!”

“Not if it means losing them!”

This is a hard one

Malleus can actually defeat Giyuu

But his will is strong as well as his effect on you

So he can’t be too hasty

But a prince forgets and Giyuu’s in trouble

“If you are going to be such a problem for us, I will just skip to a time where you are not alive.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“As the queen’s decree you cannot just run off with my subjects or prospective lovers!”

“And I can’t stand you types.”

“Grr! Off with his head!”

He doesn’t initially have a problem with him

But to see you rely on someone so awkward much taller

It irks him

Even worse he’s warning you about him now

And he can’t have that

“Don’t get in my way unless you want to be beheaded too!"

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oxittocin · 2 months

Note

Oxittocin I have a request ,

If you could write robin thinking lewd and naughty stuff about Male reader while she is reading a book in the library or aquarium, the he enters the room out nowhere and she is flustered, please...

lust (nico robin x reader)

nico robin masterlist

a very big salute to all the smut writers out there because shit's hard to write. here you go, anon - writing anything mildly suggestive already makes me blush, so i hope this is all right.

cw: male!reader, nsfw (mdni!)

It wasn’t that the book was boring.

No, in fact, it’s one of the better journals she’d picked up in the last few weeks, which made this a million times more infuriating. That, even in the haven that was her library, she continues to be distracted. Her mind constantly wanders off to another daydream mid-sentence, struggling to form a single coherent thought for the past 15 pages that she’d skimmed through.

Resigning to the fact that she wasn’t in an ideal state to catch up on her readings, she gingerly shut the book and pushed it aside. Pinching the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh left her lips. As much as she hated to admit it, Nico Robin was in quite the predicament. How she wished that anything - anything at all - could offer some semblance of reprieve from the stupid, stupid thoughts that had been plaguing her mind.

It started as a mere observation. A simple, harmless one, really.

You were always so, so shy around her. Fidgeting. Averting her gaze. Faint blush that coloured your cheeks. The soft, gentle tone you used with her and only her.

Initially, she’d attributed your reactions to the hesitancy from meeting someone new on the crew. But, it seemed that the longer she’s known you, the shyer you got around her.

A shyness so polite and kind that she found it cute. Adorable, even. A tiny smile graced her lips as she found the right word. Endearing. You were endearing. In your clumsiness that exuded sincerity, in your quiet shyness that ultimately rendered her powerless to do anything but to give you her attention.

It might embarrass her a little to admit it, but there were days where she’d watch you from the upper deck, lowering the book just barely, just enough to watch you busy yourself around the ship. Bantering with Nami and Sanji, being up to your usual troublemaking antics with Luffy, working out with Zoro, or pranking Chopper with Usopp. Watching you started out as a form of entertainment for Robin. Over time, it started to intrigue her how unassumingly charming you could be. Infectious smile that elicited similar grins from the rest of the crew and your hopeful optimism that remains a steady anchor amidst the most relentless storms. It drew her to you.

What started out as an observation has escalated to a point of eliciting visceral reactions from Robin. Didn’t matter whether you were around or not. Just thinking of you made her feel…

She shook her head. No, not now, not tonight. The only thing she could do to cope with these dumb, pressing thoughts was her nightly ritual of indulging in her fantasies to finally get you off her mind. Though the sky had already turned considerably dark, she could still hear muffled chattering from outside the library. There’s no way that she could do it now. Squeezing her thighs together, she willed herself to think about anything else - anything other than you and the things she wanted to do to you.

Her mind has plans of its own, though, because every effort to redirect her thoughts elsewhere seemed to lead her right back to you.

To how handsome you would look, wearing your typical shy expression as you begged to be between her thighs. She wondered how your shyness would translate in the bedroom, and if you’d still look so bashful when railing her from behind or pulling her hair. You’d probably be so soft, so gentle. She imagine you’d kneel before her, head hanging low as you forced yourself to croak out a “please, Robin” while avoiding her eye contact. It wouldn’t be enough for her. She wants to hear you whimper. She needs the neediness and desperation dripping from your voice as you begged her for just one chance to taste her. She’d say “no” and tell you that you have to earn the right to touch her. You’d turn into a whiny mess. Pre-cum glistening on your twitching cock, gazing upon her with an expression of pure lust and adoration. She’d enjoy turning you into a whiny mess with the things she would do to tease you.

She had a few ideas. Stripping you down. Having you stroke your own cock as you sunk to your knees in front of her, fully aware of how much more pleasurable it would be to have her and her hands jerking you off instead. She'd watch on amused, cocky smile on her face as she sees how pink your ears are from the embarrassment that her gaze elicits. You’d bite your tongue to stop yourself from moaning so wantonly in front of her, but you both know that you’d fail. You’d moan anyway.

Or perhaps, she would tie you down to the sofa and make you watch as she touches herself, spreading her legs further apart to give you a better view of her pretty cunt. You would watch her thrust her fingers in and out of her pussy while summoning another hand to rub at her clit. Coating her fingers with her own slick, she’d shove them between your lips as your tongue sucks on and laps at her fingers, melting at the taste of her sweetness. She’d see how you involuntarily buckle your hips and she’d giggle, teasing you in soft whispers. She'd tell you how obviously you were showing how much you wanted her. She’d tell you to have more decorum as she pushes you against the sofa and sinks down onto your cock. She'd feel her body trembling as she moves up and down your cock, watching your cock disappear completely, enveloped into her body and filling her up as she grinds against your hips.

This wasn’t even half of what she wanted to do to you, but it was difficult to even indulge in her fantasies when her pussy was throbbing. Aching to be touched and begging to be filled.

Screw it, she thought, no one would come into the library this late anyway.

Reaching to pull the gusset of her panties to the side, she gently ran a finger over her own slit, feeling the extent of her arousal. Sliding two fingers inside herself, she let out an audible moan - one that was a little too loud for her liking. Still, the build-up had since taken precedence over everything else. Her other hand sliding under her clothes to gently knead at her breasts as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of her cunt.

Perhaps it was the haze of the moment, the momentary folly of not locking the library’s door, coupled with the sounds of her own moans overshadowing everything else that had led to this moment. Completely lost in her own pleasure, Robin had missed the warning that came in the creaking of the opening door as you entered the library.

It was only until you said, “Robin?” had she snapped herself out of her current preoccupation as her gaze met yours.

She was in a compromising position. Yet, any hint of surprise and shock on her end was masterfully hidden within seconds, save for the rosy flush that remains on her cheeks.

With a wave of her hand, you felt a push on your back as you stumbled closer towards Robin. Reaching out a hand to cup your cheeks tenderly, she pulled you closer, gaze meeting yours in a confident, cheeky grin. Her sultry voice had a hint of breathlessness as she teased you, “Ah, it seems that you have found me. Would you care to join me tonight?”

#nico robin x reader #nico robin smut #one piece smut #male reader #nico robin #nico robin x y/n #nico robin x you #one piece x reader #x reader #x male reader #talking shit

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callsign-relic · 8 months

Note

I loved part 2 so much!! The adorableness makes me grin like a fan girl. How you contrasted what is going on in their heads... one dark, any negative sign must obviously be betrayal... and tiny human reader is fretting over angles and shading and (holy crap Starscream stop moving) for the giant alien war mech 😍🫠

I didn't mean to ramble, I apologize, I just hope you know how awesome you are.

And if the offer still stands, and you think this is okay, I would love a part 3!! And I had an idea that you can totally use or not use, but what about stargazing?

Maybe reader brought a sleeping bag or maybe time just slipped away on a normal visit, idk, I was trying to go for soft bonding.

Idea or not, I'll seriously be happy with anything. Thank you!!! 😊

Wow, thank you so much!! I’m very happy you enjoyed that little series so far :D I’d be happy to make a part 3 for you! For those unfamiliar, here are parts one and two!

Hope you enjoy! I kind of got carried away with it so it’s a little longer than my usual fics, HAHA

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader

There was something you had noticed during your frequent visits to Starscream’s hideaway.

For all of the mech’s boasting and shows of his own grandeur, all of his complaints and infuriated utterances when things didn’t go his way— if there was something that could always seem to get him to quiet down, it was the view from the top of the waterfall at night.

Only once had you stayed long enough to really notice. You were already on your way back to your home before sunset, but you had forgotten your bag. You turned back into the clearing, expecting to see Starscream there, only to find him perched atop the waterfall’s edge at the top of the mountain. He wore an expression you had never once seen before on him, and was gazing up into the sky.

And so, you resolved to really see it next time.

Starscream’s optics flicker as they catch the light of the setting sun, fierce in its final moments— as it always was, the seeker had learned from his time stowing away in earth’s wilds. He raises a clawed servo to shield his optics before casting his gaze down onto you.

You were doodling away in your sketchbook— as you usually did, when you didn’t know what else to do. For once, you were taking a break from drawing studies of your mechanical companion, instead examining a finch perched upon a tree branch not too far from the rock upon which you were sitting.

The little bird seemed to be in the midst of its preening ritual. With its sharp little beak, it dug into the pit between its torso and wing and tugged. It kept tugging at the same spot for a little while, until finally, it removed a bug from its otherwise well kept red and brown feathers. With a couple twitches of its head, the bug jittered around in its beak before disappearing into its mouth— a well earned reward after its hard work.

You felt this was the perfect scene to capture on paper. You quickly brought your pencil to the page, first getting the basic shapes down, as you usually did—

But something suddenly blocked the remaining orange light from overhead, and your sketchbook was too dark to look at. Had the sun set already? No, you could still see the faint hues of pink and orange from the corners of your eyes. Perhaps a passing cloud blotted out the sun?

The clearing of a throat pulls you out of your wandering daydream, and you lift your nose from the page to be met with a gray pede. Slowly, you crane your neck higher and higher until, scaling the length of a familiar mech’s frame- until you lock eyes with a pair of squinting, red optics.

You offer a crooked grin.

“Human,” Starscream begins, servos impatiently on his hips, “it is about time you start on your way home.”

Though your grin falls into more of a smile of ‘I tried,’ you nod. You close your sketchbook and grab your bag, stuffing it full of your art supplies and a spare grocery bag full of wrappers from snacks you had thankfully remembered to bring with you that day. As you begin packing up, Starscream gives a nod of his own and goes in the opposite direction as you— scooping the spare mechanical parts he often spent his time fiddling with into his arms before stepping into the forest line. He crouched down, removing a false bush from its place, revealing a worn hole in the ground. Then, one by one, he places the metal pieces into the hole.

Now was your chance. Aside from your travel bag filled with your usual materials, you hike a much larger backpack over your shoulders. You were lucky Starscream didn’t care enough to ask what you were doing with a new bag.

Rather than head out into the forest line— while the mech was distracted, you carefully backed up and away closer to the waterfall. In your exploring, you recalled there was a little alcove hidden behind the waterfall, and that would be your temporary base until Starscream returned to his perch atop the mountain.

Tucking behind the rushing water, you pull yourself inside just in time to see Starscream cover the hole with foliage once more, quickly picking himself up onto his pedes. Though the water makes it difficult to see, you can see the bright red of his optics shift about— he had been scanning the environment as night finally began to fall.

Once he was apparently satisfied, he left your field of vision from this angle. You could, however, continue to track him from the tremors his pedes left in the earth as he walked. Though the vibrations sent your instincts into a slight panic, all you had to do was breathe, you were used to it by now.

Eventually, the quakes fade, and when you hear one final shake run its way from the top of the mountain all the way down to you, you know Starscream has finally sat down.

Now was the time to make your move.

You slip your way out from behind the waterfall and begin your ascent up the mountain. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad of a climb, really— just a steep incline. Though, you did have to take a couple of breaks along the way to catch your breath and take the weight of your backpack off your shoulders for a little bit.

Eventually, you take another few steps up onto the hill, and the back of the silver mech’s frame finally becomes visible to you. You duck your head instantly— you didn’t want to risk him catching you so early on. But, there he was, in that same position he always liked to seem to take.

One leg dangling off of the edge of the cliff, the other crossed onto his thigh, and his arms resting behind him as he gazed into the night sky.

With another breath, you gather your courage. You approach him.

You soon make it up beside one of his servos behind him and he doesn’t even notice you. You’re not sure how to get his attention without frightening him…

“Hey—“

A shrill screech cuts its way through the air, and while you flinch into yourself, Starscream raises his servos in defense— pedes scrambling in place as he looks around in a panic before finally landing his optics down onto you. The fear in his eyes quickly twists into fury, though his chassis pounds up and down all the same. He slams one servo down into the earth with a fierce growl, using his other servo to scoop you up in one fell swoop.

“You!” He shouts, “I told you to leave! What are you doing all the way up here?!”

While getting scooped up into the fist of a metal giant would typically send you into a bout of panic, you had enough experience with Starscream’s sudden flashes of anger that you could keep relatively calm. “Okay, I know you said to leave, but…!” You trail off, trying to determine whether or not it was worth lying to the mech’s whose hands your life was currently at the whims of.

With a sigh, you drop the eager attitude. “…a couple days ago, I saw you up here, looking up at the sky. I— I know you say you don’t care about company and that having people around you is more trouble than it’s worth, but…” your eyes drift to the scar under the mech’s right optic before you lock eyes with him once more. “…I feel like your problem is that you just haven’t met the right company yet.”

Starscream examines you for a long time. His fury has simmered down by now, though his faceplate remains twisted in pure suspicion.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you add. “Listen, I get if I crossed a boundary with you. I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Then, after another moment of scrutiny, Starscream lowers his servo back down to the floor— much to your surprise. You drop to your feet, nearly tumbling backwards from the weight of your backpack, but you manage to keep your balance enough to see the seeker staring at you with… stifled confusion. Though he appeared to be trying his best to hide his emotions from you, your eyes shifted to the side, catching his wings tilting themselves downward.

Quickly, he tears his gaze away from you. “Fine. If you don’t bother me, you can stay.”

You pump a fist quietly to yourself, all while giving him an earnest, “Thank you.” Finally, you remove your backpack from your shoulders, crouch down, and open the zipper to gaze into the contents within.

Your trusty sleeping bag.

You scoop the mass of fabric into your hands before dumping it onto the floor. You unravel the bundle into a much more usable form, lower the zipper—

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Starscream’s rough voice makes you jump in your spot just a bit. You turn around to see him staring at you with a raised optical ridge— perplexed.

You fully turn to face him and place your hands proudly on your hips. “I brought a sleeping bag,” you explain, gesturing a hand towards the bag. “It’s basically a bed that can travel with you, and you can use it to sleep in the wilderness. Another innovative human invention,” you wink.

The seeker’s confusion dissipates into disinterest. “Whatever keeps you busy,” he waves you off with a servo before turning to face the night sky again.

You shrug— you learned to never take Starscream’s comments to heart anymore. If he really didn’t want you there, he would have long since kicked you out by now. So, you drag your sleeping bag up beside the mech’s hand— Starscream lifting it out of reflex as you approach.

“No, you can stay there!” You assure him, fully unzipping your bag. “Uh, if you don’t mind me next to you, that is.”

The mech rolls his optics, shifting to the side to allow you some breathing room with a grumble. You offer a little chuckle as thanks as, at last, you slip into your sleeping bag, zipping it up to about halfway up your torso.

Then, you cast your gaze up into the stars.

The sparkling dots looked as though they were dancing gently in their places. While you couldn’t tell them very much apart, it was certainly a much better view here than from your apartment window. It was no wonder why Starscream liked the view so much.

“…hey, Starscream?” You try.

“What is it?” He replies in a low grumble, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

“You said you were an alien, right?”

He huffs a pompous laugh, “A Cybertronian, yes.”

“So… is your planet up there somewhere?”

And you’re met with silence.

“Starscream?” You repeat.

“…yes,” he finally answers— though his tone is softer than you had ever heard from him before.

You shift from lying down to resting your weight onto your elbows behind you. “Is it visible from here?”

There’s another huff, but it’s more resigned this time. “No. Though I know its general location from this angle.”

You lean forwards, squinting— trying to get an idea of where Starscream had been looking just from the perspective of his head. But then, you suddenly pull yourself backwards as something slowly raises itself before you.

A single, dark navy servo.

You look between the hand and Starscream’s face for a moment, dumbfounded— but you decide to just take the chance and hop on. He wasn’t even looking at you, who knows how long this offer would last? Leaving your sleeping bag behind, you clamber into his palm, and the very moment you’re settled down is when Starscream raises you into the air, level with his chest.

With his free servo, he points northwest. “There. Just past that cluster of stars.”

You squint again, trying your best to follow his pointed digit. You wished you were more astronomically adept. “The… the group of seven or eight stars there, all bundled up against each other?”

Starscream nods. “There, thousands upon thousands of lightyears away, lies Cybertron.”

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #Transformers prime #Transformers Prime x reader #TFP #TFP x reader #Starscream #Starscream x reader #TFP Starscream #TFP Starscream x reader

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queen-haq · 9 months

Text

Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 5)

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 5

Your breath was ragged, your throat dry from screaming so hard. Your brother was dying in front of you and no matter how much you screamed at him he wouldn’t look at you.

In the blink of an eye you were at the hospital, taking bullets out of a horse. It was a beautiful animal, midnight black with a shiny, sleek mane, speaking to you as you operated on him. You were trying to save its life but the horse remained unfazed, being sweet and encouraging. You felt kinship with the animal, like you knew him. And then it was touching you, with human hands, his long, lean fingers running through your hair. It felt good, the sensation making you tingle. Your face felt warm, flushed. It was hot, too hot. Like your body was lodged against a heater or something. Irritated, you brushed off whatever was covering you and the respite from the heat slowly lulled you back to sleep.

Several times throughout the night you were startled awake by Billy, pressed tightly against you. At times facing him, other times turned away. There wasn’t much space on the couch, and maybe that was the reason why, but you were surprised at how tactile he was. His hand was always on you, tucked around your waist, your hips, on your butt, on your breasts before you moved them away. You knew it wasn’t about you, he was probably the same way with the women he slept with – you just happened to be sharing the couch this time.

You woke up alone the next morning facing the back cushion. There was a throw draped over you, your robe gone.

“You kick in your sleep.”

Hearing Billy’s voice from behind, you immediately pulled up the throw. Just because you probably flashed him in your sleep didn’t mean you had to do it now. You shuffled around to face him, throw tucked under your chin so your breasts weren’t exposed.

He was sitting on a chair facing you, sipping a mug of coffee, wearing workout clothes. His casual demeanor was a surprise, you were used to seeing him angry or stressed out. Mocking you most of the time when he wasn’t being insulting. That’s why last night was so unexpected. Seeing him be so vulnerable and pleading for help, it came out of nowhere. And as surprised as you had been, he was probably doubly so. Which was why a part of you was bracing yourself for the inevitable assholery from him. “Something I learned in golddigger school,” you retorted.

He didn’t say anything, just watching you. Wearing a blank expression, his face was unreadable, making you nervous. “You were all over me last night. Guess they didn’t teach you about respecting personal space in class,” he drawled after a few seconds, setting down the his empty cup on the coffee table.

“Of course not. You don’t get a rich husband by being respectful.”

For a second you thought amusement flickered in his eyes but it disappeared so quickly you must have imagined it.

“What the fuck was last night? You tryin’ to seduce me?”

Despite the hostile words, his voice was calm. There was no anger or derision in his tone, which confused you even more. At least if he was pissed, you’d know how to react. “You’re the one who asked me to stay with you.” Even to your own ears, you sounded bitchy. “Begged, actually.”

A well-defined eyebrow quirked up, the corners of his mouth lifting so slightly that he almost appeared to be smiling. “I don’t beg, sweetheart.”

What the fuck? Was he seriously trying to gaslight you? “So what do you think happened? I saw you passed out on the couch and decided that was the moment I was gonna jump your bones?”

“You tell me. I don’t know what gets you hot.”

His calm tone was infuriating. “Definitely not you.” The gall of him to act like you had somehow plotted all this. Pissed, you didn’t want to see his stupid, smug face again. “You mind turning around?”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“I want to go to the bathroom.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m not wearing anything underneath this!” you huffed. “Where’s my robe?”

“You took it off halfway through the night.” He reached behind him and pulled out the fabric. Instead of throwing it to her, he draped it over his lap.

“You want to give that back to me?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole.” He sneered at her words. At least that side of him was familiar, you reminded yourself. You could handle him when he was being a dick. “I don’t have time for this, Billy. Give me my robe.”

“Come here and get it.”

“Or you could just throw it.”

“No.”

“Stop being a dick, Billy!”

“That’s who I am, sweetheart.” In the blink of an eye his voice shifted from amusement to controlled rage. “I’m a fucking bastard, not some broken man for you to fix. Remember that.”

Fed up and irritated, you sat up and secured the throw tightly around your body before storming over to him. Standing directly in front of Billy, you glared down at him. “I don’t want to save you. I don’t even give a fuck about you. Last night you had a panic attack, probably some PTSD episode or something. I could’ve ignored you, yeah, but I didn’t because that’s not who I am. When someone’s in pain in front of me, I help them. Not because I care about them, but because that’s what I’m trained to do. It doesn’t mean I like you, or want to fuck you, or even give a shit about you.” Molten eyes locked with yours, he gazed up at you like he was mesmerized or something. You snapped your fingers, trying to get his attention. “Are you listening to me?”

His eyes trailed down to your lips. “So that’s all that was? You being a compassionate doctor?”

Not responding, you moved to pick up the robe from his lap when he suddenly grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but gentle, his eyes pitch-black as he stood up. Towering over you, you regarded him cautiously as he closed the distance between you. “Let me go, Billy.”

He didn’t.

Refusing to look away, you held his stare. He must have taken a shower because you could smell the subtle scent of his soap, a wonderful, fresh scent that made you want to lean in and inhale him more. Of course that was a ridiculous thought, you could just imagine how he’d react to that.

His voice was low, raspy, almost seductive, his intense eyes gleaming over your face like you were fascinating to him. “Next time you see me like that, don’t help me. Even if I ask.”

“Tough shit. I’m not gonna change who I am because of you.”

Anger flitted across his face. “Do you know how stupid that is? I was blazed out of my fucking mind, probably having a panic attack. And you come in there like some goddamn idiot. You’re lucky I didn’t accidentally smash your face in.”

“You realize how that sounds? You need help.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips while he finally released your wrist. In one swift motion he retrieved the robe from the ground and wrapped it around you. His hands lingered on your bare shoulders, the heat of his touch scorching right through to your insides. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the intimacy of the gesture, your heart racing. This was not good. Last night was one thing when he needed help, but in the harsh ray of daylight there was no reason to act so familiar with him.

Immediately you took a step back, tying the robe tightly around your waist. It lay lumpy on your body because of the throw underneath but you didn’t care. You just wanted a fast escape from Billy. He, however, had other plans when he took a seat on the arm of the couch.

“What kind of help?” Billy prodded, his eyes boring into you again.

“What?” you asked, distracted by his feet brushing against your bare leg.

“You mean like therapy or something? I tried that shit. Worked for a while, but every year…” For a second he looked like he was a million miles away, a haunted expression on his face. “The nightmares come back.”

Leave, you told yourself. Make up an excuse and walk away. Yet you caught a glimpse of something in Billy’s eyes that reminded you of his aching vulnerability last night and you couldn’t ignore it when he obviously wanted to talk. “Did something happen?” you asked reluctantly.

His piercing eyes dropped from your face to the floor. “Yeah.”

You waited for him to elaborate; he didn’t. There was a part of you that wanted to ask about the burn marks and scars that traumatized him – but it wasn’t your place to press him for answers. Obviously whatever triggered him was a painful experience. “Look, whatever’s going on with you, it’s not just gonna go away. I know you said therapy hasn’t worked yet but that doesn’t mean it won’t. It’s a process, you have to keep trying.”

A small smile curved his face. “Sounds like you give a shit now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just don’t want you to accidentally kill one of your one-night stands in the middle of the night. That’s gonna be hard to explain to my friends.”

“That’s why they never stay the night,” he said quietly, his vision slowly and deliberately trailing up to your face. “I don’t let them.”

There was that fierce glint in his gaze again, the one that made your heart squeeze in your chest. And terrified the shit out of you.

“I haven’t slept beside anyone in a long time.”

Until last night. With you.

Every molecule in the air suddenly felt charged, your heightened senses trying to cope with the sensation of his hand stroking your calf. The unspoken words hung in the air, sharp and palpable, his intoxicating eyes holding you captive and making it impossible for you to look away.

“Why?”

His question was a soft moan, sensuous, seductive, a complete contrast to how scratchy you sounded when you responded to him. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep fucking with my head?”

Your heart was pounding hard, the lump in your throat growing bigger by the second. “Why do you let me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You make it so easy to mess with you,” you murmured.

“Do I?”

Your breath caught in your throat when his fingers slowly caressed up the length of your calf, jolts running through your body at his touch. “Yeah.”

“You surprised me.”

One moment you were standing few feet apart, next he had gently nudged you forward while he stood up at the same time. All oxygen left your lungs, his close proximity making it hard for you to inhale. Or think rationally. “You stayed with me last night. You didn’t leave.”

“I told you, I-”

“Yeah, yeah, doctor bullshit - but you didn’t have to be sweet, or cute, or hold me until I fell asleep. And you did all that just because I asked.” His fingers curled around your hair, playing with the strands. “Makes me wonder what else you’ll do if I ask nicely.”

“Are you capable of nice?”

“Always so cheeky.” His eyes centered on your lips, studying your pout. The way he was looking at you right now, it was too much, desire rushing through your veins, overwhelming you, more so when he drew closer, whispering in your ear. “Maybe I need to keep your mouth busy with something else. Got any ideas?”

Your body trembled, shivering at the sensation of his breath on your neck. Desperate for some respite, you closed your eyes. What was he doing to you? This was stupid. Stupid and incredibly risky. And knowing how easily you’d succumb to him scared you. Using every bit of strength you possessed, you removed yourself form his grip and took a step back. “Whatever you’re playing at, stop. It’s not gonna work.”

His lips broke into a smirk. “Sure about that? Looks like t’s working already.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

You turned around and stormed out of the room, agitated by his amused laughter that echoed behind you.

To be continued...

A/N - I know it’s a short chapter but I thought the morning after deserved it’s own part.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

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sodasa-was-taken · 16 days

Note

Hope you don't mind praise in the form of outdated memes, but:

As someone who grew up thinking I wasn't really interested in the romance genre, only to discover later on that queer romances (particularly sapphic ones) *were* interesting to me, I never gave a lot of thought about the rules of romance genre stories, so thank you for the education : )

I don't mind at all. Thank you so much. I don't think I can express how happy it makes me to know that people like my writing as making edutainment has been a passion of mine since elementary school.

As an activist it's great that I'm able to give people the tools to understand just how inaccurate a lot of homophobic rhetoric and the like truly is. I hope to bring people confidence in their interpretations, so they don't feel the need to be on the defensive as much and can instead use their energy on something else.

It's still wild to me that people like my analyses as I've always been told that the romance genre is frivolous and I have seen very few analyses on romance in fiction and the ones I have seen have been about its more problematic elements. Well articulated praise of romances is hard to come by. Although, I would be amiss not to mention that some comments I've read on AO3 have come close.

It's also infuriating to me that some of the most well-known contemporary romances are horrendous. I've lost count of the times I've told someone that I love romances and the first thing they mention is fifty shades. That story is to good romance what molten grape juice is to fine wine.

On a happier note, my knowledge of the romance genre made my reaction to G-Witch quite different from a lot of other people, at least from what I've seen. The times I've been the most wrong was when I misjudged what plot beat the story was at but otherwise it appears that my predictions were some of the most accurate I've seen. The most significant being a) how others were happy about Miorine comforting Prospera, while I saw Miorine's insecurity acting up and was filled with dread, and (b that I waited mildly impatiently for things to go from bad to worse so that Suletta and Miorine could be reunited, while others either joked about Suletta going full villain mode or was afraid that Suletta and Miorine was done for good. Because I saw the show as a romance I thought Miorine was going to push Suletta away to protect her, that Suletta would have to come to realize that what her mother was doing was wrong before her and Miorine could be united, and that Miorine would have to think that it was wrong to force Suletta away from her mother before they could get back together for good. It turned out I was right. And people say that focusing on shipping is a bad thing. Their loss, I say.

Again, thank you. Posting on here has been such a positive experience for me thanks to people like you.

#mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #the witch from mercury #g witch #sulemio #suletta x miorine #queer romance

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unhetalia · 16 days

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well. I guess it depends on what relationship head canons you have for ukus if they ever truly got together?

I had to think about this (nap) because I realised just how LITTLE established relationship UKUS I've actually consumed. I think I've read a lot more established RusAme than established UKUS. Maybe because I'm incredibly picky about the latter dynamic? Anyway - because I haven't read a lot of it, I had to think really hard about what it would look like.

I personally don't think there would be obvious differences between Arthur-and-Alfred-as-friends and Arthur-and-Alfred-as-lovers, but that still means talking about how I see Arthur and Alfred as friends.

As friends, banter is a huge part of Alfred and Arthur's dynamic. A long time ago, there was probably real bitterness in their jabs. Over time, it becomes a softer thing. (One of the songs I associate with UKUS is "So American" by Olivia Rodrigo, because I absolutely believe that's one of the things Arthur always says to Alfred - "you're so American", smirking or laughing, no sharpness or rebuke in his words.)

Arthur grew up with a lot of siblings and he's quick witted - but Alfred has amazing memory and can bring up anything anyone has done that he's witnessed, and is really good at knowing exactly what someone finds embarrassing or infuriating. They have fun riling each other up - this is what leads to them trying to scare each other silly every Halloween.

As a couple, this doesn't change. (It works for them, especially since both of them have a hard time expressing themselves sincerely.) The importance of this aspect of their dynamic is the fact that Alfred doesn't get offended by any of Arthur's comments - not the stuff about himself, or his dry, unimpressed observations about everything around him. He finds it funny, and Arthur thrives on that. Arthur has suffered a lot from being tied to people who found him wanting in some way, but Alfred is one of the few people who actively enjoys and seeks out Arthur's company and doesn't seem to find him wanting in some way.

The second thing is they have a good balance of things they enjoy doing together, and things they're dragging each other to. Alfred enjoys a lot of British media and food (once again, something that's more important to Arthur than he can say). Arthur enjoys McDonald's, and doesn't mind eating there when Alfred gets a craving. But Arthur doesn't enjoy the wilderness in the way Alfred does - is a bit ... discomfited at how there's huge swathes of American land that are completely wild. Alfred drags him to these places, for hiking and camping, and Arthur re-discovers a part of himself that he'd lost in England's industrialisation. Meanwhile, Arthur really pushes Alfred to appreciate the depth of English and European history. It allows for both comfort and growth in their relationship.

The third thing - Alfred is high energy, and so curious about the world. I absolutely believe Alfred has a few doctorates under his belt and invents and fixes things in his spare time. While I don't see Alfred working for the government, I can sometimes see him working for NASA. He's constantly tinkering or jotting things down. He's actually incredibly cerebral.

Arthur is physical. He never stopped sword fighting, and practices martial arts. He runs, and goes to the gym, does boxing (I've mentioned these things in my headcanon about England's appearance before). But when he's not doing those things, he does things that quiet his mind. He crochets or knits. Something repetitive and soothing. Meditative.

They can sit for hours in the same room, Arthur knitting while Alfred has blueprints spread over their coffee table. And its peaceful, and you don't think it even matters if the other person is there or not, but Arthur has to go to London for a week to sort something out and Alfred can't get anything done at home and has to go to the office every day.

HAVE I EVEN SAID ANYTHING IN THIS ASK. Basically Alfred and Arthur after having sex is incredibly similar to them before having sex. The act of sex changes everything and nothing all at once. But their relationship is a lot of being able to feel appreciated where you never felt appreciated before, a lot of being able to do things together that you love, and doing things together that you hate but somehow still helps you grow as a person, and also being able to do nothing together.

#ukus #usuk #aph america #aph england #hetalia #theyre actually a boring relationship bc once they get there theyre married for ten years #like immediately they fuck and then settle into utter domesticity #their sex life is spicy as fuck tho #t: ask #m: hetalia #hetalia: headcanon (ship)#s: england/america

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godzillabreath · 1 year

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aggretsuko

Just wanted to get a few thoughts out there about the season finale of Aggretsuko and my feelings about the show overall...

spoilers for season 5 below

With such a strong first season that discussed the way corporate culture grinds your personhood down into the dust and leaves you little opportunity to express yourself or feel like you have a life beyond the abuses of your job, it was really a shame to see the show take such a 180 by Season 5.

For a show that railed so hard against the toxic work environment, it feels strange to see Retsuko being so condescending to Haida in season 5 for the sole reason that he no longer has a job. She started out in season 1 as a character that didn’t fit within the social borders for a traditional woman--not wanting marriage, not wanting kids, wanting something of a career--nor the social borders for a loyal corporate drone, but by season 5 she’s appalled and embarrassed by Haida because he’s unemployed. She’s afraid to bring him home to her parents, rehearsing a whole fake narrative for him to give them about his employment history because she can’t stand the idea of being the sole provider, even temporarily. She even cuts him out of her life (!!) as an ultimatum until he finds a job in a show of “tough love,” which is just a wild way to treat your significant other.

There are other issues with Retsuko’s progression as a character as well. Beyond season 1, it becomes increasingly evident that not only has the show centered her as the main character, but she has also centered herself as the main character in everyone else’s lives. She shows little empathy in reaching out to friends, but asks the world of them and their time whenever she’s in any kind of emotional distress. I thought originally this would be a growth point in her character, that she would learn she can’t just have this unreciprocal relationship to people, but she NEVER changes. It makes me unable to understand why Haida pines over her--where is the chemistry between them??--let alone why any of her friends stick around and carve out so much time for her.

My last gripe is that there’s a political subplot that starts up mid-way through season 5 and it is not good.

They introduce Shikabane as this homeless drifter character moving between internet cafes to sleep as she struggles to keep her head afloat between freelance work. Haida befriends her as he is in much the same situation once his family pulls the rug out from under his living situation. This was an interesting choice, and I personally really liked to see life from the point of view of this group of people living in the internet café.

So when the politician subplot rolls around and Retsuko is foisted into the spotlight as the next district candidate for an underdog party, I was baffled that they never again touched on the very specific, very real, and very difficult struggles that homeless people in Tokyo are shown to be facing. Instead, Retsuko’s political platform boils down to something as flat as “youngs vs olds.” We as the audience can intuit that she is running to oppose the old guard conservative politicians in Haida’s family, but the show never goes out of its way to make any of Retsuko’s (or her party’s) ideology clear in a frankly infuriating way. The show could have said something not only about the killer work culture that so defines Aggretsuko as a series, but also the plight of people without stable living environments, wage stagnation, the lack of voice for the younger generation in not only the workplace but in parliament, really it could have said literally anything at all. But it did not. Retsuko fumbles through a strange speech about small inconveniences in her life (being unable to rip a soy sauce packet, for example) leading to rage, and all the elements of social critique that you think the show ought to be making fall by the wayside.

So, I don’t know. This is a lot of words, it just felt so unsatisfying and frustrating to have a show that was ostensibly self-aware of the working class struggle to flip around and not seem to care or have any desire to disrupt the status quo. I think a series like this becomes more irritating over time because there are pieces of interesting social commentary there that the creative team refuses to explore in a meaningful way.

#aggretsuko

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misslavenderlady · 1 year

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F is for Fight 😡

Dwayne/Female!Reader (She/Her Pronouns)

Summary: You're angry with Dwayne, and a slip of the tongue lands you in hot water. Buckle up, baby. You're gonna get punished for being a bad girl~

This is a gift for @ghoulgeousimmaculate as it was inspired by both her Yandere Alphabet series and her fic T.L.C. 💖 It's also sequel to the fic Baby Come Back.

It has some references to her stuff, and takes place in the modern world, not 1987. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY!!

(I know the gif of Billy isn't from Lost Boys, it just fit the look I needed)

WARNINGS: Nsfw/Smut/18+ Readers Only, Arguing, Punishment, BDSM (Dom/Sub, Impact play), Spanking (like the hard punishment kind, not the fun kind), Use of a belt, Degradation, Emotional Manipulation, Crying, Bruising, Power Imbalance, Hypnosis, Dumbification, use of the word "Daddy", Dub-Con, Trauma, PTSD, Aftercare

You loved Dwayne. No matter what happened, you would always love him. He was your darling. Your mate. The father of the child you adopted together. Nothing would ever make you lose the affection you held for him.

But that didn't mean he didn't have moments where he absolutely infuriated you.

Dwayne was naturally a very protective person. He always followed you close, like a handsome shadow. That itself wasn't a problem. What WAS a problem was how he felt the need to take control over everything in your life. What you ate, what you wore, where you went at night. There was always something new for him to influence.

He claimed he did this so you didn't get hurt or lost. That it was his way of taking care of you so you wouldn't have anything to worry about. You knew better than that. He was controlling everything so you wouldn't leave.

And tonight you were calling him out on it.

"Angel, please-"

"Don't you 'angel' me, Dwayne! I told you to cut this shit out!" you scolded him. It was just the two of you in the cave. You knew he didn't like when you chewed him out when others were around.

"I'm not a child, I'm a grown woman! I don't need you holding my hand on everything I do. I'm so tired of this!"

Dwayne kept a soft expression, giving you the ol’ puppy-dog-eyes trick. He always wanted to be so gentle and sweet when the two of you were together. But you weren’t having it today. You stood your ground, no matter how much you adored his brown eyes.

"But you can't handle that on your own, baby! I need to take care of you, and that's too much for you to handle"

Now you were furious. Your face felt hot and your blood was boiling. The temper inside was rising fast. You just couldn’t believe him.

"Going to the store to get myself a goddamn cup of coffee is TOO MUCH TO HANDLE?" you shouted. "I can't believe this! You need to back off, Dwayne! You make me feel so small and dumb, and I’ve had enough! I…I just…"

The words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think.

“I HATE YOU!”

It was a mistake. A terrible, stupid, grave mistake. You fucked up BAD.

Regret and fear washed over you, drowning you in terror as you realized what you did. Your hand slapped over your mouth and your body trembled as you helplessly watched your beloved vampire shift entirely right before your eyes.

The warmth in Dwayne’s eyes had extinguished, a deep coldness taking its place. His face was pure stone, the structure, and expression hardened and sharp. His stance was stronger and taller as if he was physically growing to look down at you. There was no love to be seen. No affection or worry or care for you.

“What did you just say?”

Fuck, it was as if a demon had risen from hell, calling you out for your sins. The trembling in your hands only kicked up. Your fingers shook terribly as you held them up in defense. Your legs weren’t doing much better. The knees buckled and threatened to give out as you slowly backed up. Dwayne only frightened you more with every step he took too.

“D-Dwayne, honey, I didn’t me-mean it!” you whimpered. He didn’t so much as blink at you. It was like he had transformed into a statue. “I-I’m sorry…!”

The sounds of your pathetic apologies were silenced by the swift move of his hand, grasping around your arm and pulling you forward.

“You will be”

He dragged you into the cave alcove, his grip iron-tight and strong, like the shackle of a chain. No matter how badly you shook or how much you tried to wiggle away, he kept his hold on you. Dwayne truly was a powerful creature, and even now he was holding back on you. Even so, the darkness in his eyes told you he was itching to be worse. MUCH worse.

No time was wasted with him. He sat down on the chair in the center of the room, holding you still with one hand and bringing the other forward to force down your jeans and panties. A frightened squeak escaped your lips as cold air rushed around your skin. He was your mate, and mates were supposed to keep each other warm. All you felt as he roughed you up was pure ice. No heat and no love to share.

“First part of your punishment is impact,” he growled, roughly tugging you down over his lap. “Fifteen spanks. Count them out, and say ‘I’m sorry’ after each one. You fuck up, I start again and add more. Got it?”

You were absolutely dumbfounded. Dwayne was never this cruel with you. The words you spoke had truly broken his heart. The pain in your very soul would have been enough if he hadn’t distracted you with a sharp slap to your ass.

“Answer me!” he demanded.

“I-I got it, D-Dwayne!” you cried out. “O-ONE! I’m sorry!”

God, did it ache. One spank and the stinging sensation was already beginning. He didn’t waste any time before bringing his hand down again. He grunted as his hand hit the flesh, roughness on your soft, tender parts.

“Two!! Aah…’m sorry!!”

Being very intimate with one another, Dwayne had done his fair share of spanking with you. In the past, it had been romantic and sexy. He massaged you in between each hit, teasing you with his magic hands before giving you a playful swat. It did sting, but it was just the right amount of pressure to make you moan, not cry.

This was not one of those times. Your eyes were starting to prick with tears as he hit you again and again. He wasn’t giving you a break or taking it slow. This truly did feel like a punishment. As you blabbered out each number and apology, you wanted to burst out into tears. You felt terrible for what you did. The pain you made him feel was given back with such aggressiveness.

“Si-six…mmff!...s-sorry.!!”

It wasn’t just soreness. It BURNED. Unlike other times when he gave equal attention of his hits to your thighs and pussy in between spanks, all the pressure was hitting the same spot on your ass. You didn’t get a break at all. Tears slipped down your cheeks as they kept coming and coming.

“Ten - no no! Nine! NINE! I’M SORRY, DWAYNE!” you frantically apologized. Your body couldn’t take more than what he was planning. You hoped it was going to be enough to excuse your mess up.

And then the faint clinking sound greeted your ears. Your eyes went wide and your voice whimpered helplessly. He was taking off his belt.

“What a shame,” he simply said. “You were making such good progress. Guess I’m gonna have to bump it up to twenty”

Your heart sank. Iciness shot through your veins. A thick, painful lump was forming in your throat. Why did you have to mess it up when you were so close to the end??

Before you could add to the way you were internally kicking yourself, the hand was brought down again. The belt came with it. No mistaking it, that was real, grade-A leather hitting your skin.

“Don’t make me rack it up to thirty. You better get it right this time. Say it like you mean it,” he ordered.

It was so much worse. All the pain you had made him feel was coming to life as he brought the belt down. The material was bad enough, but the metal in the loops and buckle added sharp jolts that made the agony stretch out longer.

“You really broke my heart, baby girl,” he sighed, swatting at you again. You blubbered so pathetically, yet you would not forget your numbers or words this time. “Why would you say such a cruel thing?”

“TH-THREE! Aah…fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, D-Dwayne! I just slipped out!”

You really were telling the truth. At the beginning of your disagreement, you wanted to rationally talk about things. Say what was bothering you and communicate like an adult. But that’s not how Dwayne saw it. He saw his baby acting up and it made him want to put her back in her place. You hated yourself for what you said.

“I feed you. I clothe you. I spoil you rotten with everything,” he went on. SMACK! The leather was so fucking loud, it made you tremble with each hit. “I even adopt Laddie with you so you can have the family you wanted so badly. And THIS is how you repay me? By saying you hate me?”

“Oowww!! Fu…FIVE! I’m sorry!!”

Your skin was in agonizing pain. Though part of you had gone numb, the sharp hits were still clear as day. It made you full-on sob now, tears pouring in large puddles out of your eyes and staining Dwayne’s jeans below you. The stains grew in size as more strikes came.

“I don’t get it. Don’t you love me, baby?” SMACK. “Don’t you love Laddie?” SMACK.

Playing at your heartstrings only made the guilt skyrocket. You wept into the denim fabric, shaking and sobbing so harshly. Of course, you did. Of course, you loved them! You would die without your mate and your little boy. It would be a cold day in hell before you ever left them. It was so stupid to let your emotions get the better of you, and now you were paying dearly for it.

Yet still, you counted.

“TEN, I’m sorry! ELEVEN! I’m sorry!! I love you, Daddy! Pl-Please!”

You weren’t even thinking now. In moments of weakness when you felt so frightened and needy, you called Dwayne by “Daddy” instead. It was absolutely a sex thing for you two, but more often than not, it was your way of saying he was in charge. He had control. You were just a poor, little human who couldn’t even pick what to eat for dinner, let alone make big life choices.

Though you couldn’t see it, the faintest smile tugged at Dwayne’s lips. He was breaking you. His baby was coming back to him. But he wasn’t done yet.

He kept crooning his disappointment with the absolutely diabolic smacks. Bright, red marks were quickly shifting into deep, purple bruises. You wouldn’t be able to move properly for weeks. Hell, you couldn’t even imagine moving. If Dwayne forgave you, he would have to carry you everywhere. It pleased him immensely when he influenced things to make you rely on him.

“Ooh my poor little mama~” he sighed, tossing the belt aside to switch back to his hand. He missed the burn of the heat coming off your skin. “Look what you made me do. If you had just let Daddy take care of you, I wouldn’t have to put you over my knee like this”

SMACK!

“What’s next? Soap in your mouth?”

SMACK!!

“Make you stand in the corner?”

SMACK!!

“Send you to bed without your food?”

SMACK!!!

“You wanna act like a brat, I’ll treat you like a brat. You would die out there without me. I don’t ever wanna hear you say that again. Got it?”

It was getting damn-near impossible to speak. All that came out was garbbled messes that vaguely sounded like the numbers you were counting and the apologies you were giving. It was all too much. Your spirit was breaking down. Though you were reaching the end, you feared what would happen if you messed up again.

“D-Daddy….” you cried. Fingers gripped at his leg to keep you from moving around too much. If you got too squirmy, you feared more punishment awaited you. Your eyes were puffy and your face was flushed as you turned slightly to face him.

“I’m….sorry….I…l-love you….”

In a moment of clarity, Dwayne stopped his hand. At that point, he was at fifteen. The number of your original punishment, and just five shy of completing your second round. He was a man who sought things out to the end. Good on his word, especially if his word had a threat to it.

Yet he gazed into your blown-out pupils and pathetic expression and realized how much he hated doing this. The remorse in your eyes was real. His sweet girl didn’t mean what she said. The love was there, she just had forgotten her place as his mate. It killed Dwayne to see you so defeated. So he gave you a hint of mercy.

He lightly tapped your ass for the last five spanks. They still hurt since he was messing with your bruises, but now you could actually breathe and think again. Instead of screaming out your counting, you could say it softly, allowing some recovery for your voice. You got all the way to twenty, softly adding your apologies with each one.

"That's it….that's a good girl…" he purred. Any anger he held before was fizzled out. He was back as your sweet, gentle caretaker. "It's all done. No more counting. You did as I asked, mama"

You couldn't move on your own. Every inch of your body hurt like it was burned by the fires of hell itself. Dwayne knew this and did his best to help make you comfortable. He carefully slid your clothes off, letting you be naked. Slowly he moved you so he could lay you down on the bed that was set up on the other side of the room.

You were on your stomach, of course. There was no way you'd be able to sit or be on your back for a good, long time. Dwayne whispered soft praises as he pulled a blanket over you and slipped your favorite stuffed animal next to you.

The sobbing had quieted down into soft sniffles. You were grateful to have the old Dwayne back, but some recovery time was still needed. Thankfully, he knew that. He brought you pain medicine, a glass of water, a heating pad, more pillows, and your phone so you could be nice and comfy.

"Now then," he stated, leaning down to meet you at eye level. "I forgive you. I know you didn't mean what you said. We love each other, baby. That's never gonna change, right?"

You nodded sheepishly. Dwayne took amazing care of you. There was never any worry about work, money, or personal problems when he was around. You should have just let him get you the coffee you wanted. You should let him do everything for you.

"Good girl," he praised, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Now then. You remember what I said before? About that being your first part of the punishment?"

For a moment your heart started pounding again. You couldn't take another round of pain. Dwayne must have sensed this because he smiled softly and stroked your cheek to ease your worries.

"Don't fret, angel. It's just a little one. I'm just gonna turn off that pretty little head for a bit so you remember who's the one that does the thinking for you"

His warm, chocolate eyes began to burn, swirls of yellow, orange, and red taking over.

Fuck. Not this again!!

You still remembered how dumb you acted all those months. It has taken a whole year and a half of being a stupid, giggly little idiot who followed Dwayne around like a puppy before he granted you back your intelligence. Things had worked out for you as mates, but to lose control of your mind again was worse than any beating.

"Shhhh don't cry, baby. It's only for the rest of the night," he cooed. Already you could feel the memories and the ideas and all your knowledge slip away. "Consider it a reminder that you can't be without me"

That was the last thing he said before sucking out the remaining thoughts that took up space in your brain.

Back again was the sweet little dummy he so adored. Nothing but a dopey smile and a vacant look in your eyes.

You smiled dreamily at him, snuggling up in bed with only the thought of loving Dwayne and letting him do everything for you. When he was satisfied with his work, he smiled and kissed you softly before stepping away and pulling the curtain of the room down to give you some privacy.

While you were napping in the room he chose to relax in the lobby. Reading over a random book on the couch by himself. It was quite peaceful until he heard the familiar sound of a little kid running into the cave.

The others were off to do their own thing, but Laddie ran straight to Dwayne, eyes wide with excitement and arms held out for a hug.

"Papa! I'm home!" he cheerfully shouted. Dwayne's smile widened as he eagerly greeted the little vampire with a hug. It always warmed his undead heart to be able to call Laddie his child.

"Hey, buddy! Didya have fun at the arcade with your uncles?"

Laddie nodded eagerly. He was still hyped up on his sugar buzz from all the goodies he got. But before he could start rambling about all the cool stuff he did, he looked around the room in curiosity. He seemed a bit confused.

"Where's Mama? I missed her!"

Dwayne bit back an evil smile. It would be a while before you were presentable enough to visit. Laddie didn't have to know the ways Mommy and Daddy had their own fun. So he shrugged and gave a simple answer.

"Oh she's just resting, buddy," he said. "Mama needed a time out"

#the lost boys #dwayne x reader #dwayne the lost boys #female reader #tlb #Nsft #Smut

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girlsgoneplague · 4 months

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Spock headcannons, don't judge me i just think he's neat

He will NEVER ask you to neglect your duties but he will often apologize for putting you in harms way, even if its not his fault

Anytime you want to watch a movie he indulges you because he can get work done while you're leaning against him (but it is hard to watch dramas they infuriate him)

If you're an Ensign your relationship is quite secret but to be honest only people close to him will notice anything is different

Once you become a lieutenant he takes you out to dinner in the mess hall, and MANY people realize you're together but its still just a rumor since no one can read his facial expressions

You don't often get in harms way, but he almost broke a PADD whenever he found out your ankle got broken while running away, he doesn't recall any other details of rhe mission only that you were nearly left behind

Theres no kissing him in public, you respect his privacy and he has never had the urge to kiss you in front of anyone because he knows that what you share is for each other to enjoy.

There have been quite a few times (after a close call) where he did hold his hand out for a vulcan kiss, and somehow it makes you blush more than when he asks you in private to kiss like humans

There have been only a few times where Kirk has attempted to tease you both, but when you got hurt and spock nearly broke multiple pieces of equipment he realized that he wouldn't get a rise out of either of you unless he did something crazy

Kirk regularly gives him advice about dates because they're in fact the bestest of friends

His dates mostly consist of legitimate quality time, playing games together, eating dinner and discussing your day, or even just reviewing particularly interesting mission logs you've went on without each other

Bones had to physically restrain Spock more than once from leaving the med bay (so he could see you) and you're the only one that can convince him to take Bones adivice

Before you dated Kirk and Bones bet on every aspect of your relationship and once Spock found out he waited 2 weeks to tell them you were together

Spock never thinks about retiring but anytime you're allowed shore leave he imagines life with you to be enough. after he's gotten too old to be with starfleet of course

And if anyone is wondering, no he will never do public sex, this is Spock and in my opinion he only does it every once in awhile because he doesn't find it as satisfying as spending time with you and making conversation.

Side note even though this is x reader Spock is for sure in love with Kirk thats just a fact

I also couldn't decide which version to use so here's both!

#spock #x reader #headcanon #non-sexual intimacy

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violottie · 14 days

Note

I cant stress enough how much bi lesbians and bi lesbian discourse flared up my SO-ocd, I was fine for a few months and then I returned to this side of tumblr and I get reminded of them. One of my worst fears is that I am somehow a “bi lesbian” or if after all these years of questioning and finally coming to the conclusion that I’m a lesbian I’ll turn out to be straight in the end. Idk if I should have stayed on the art side of tumblr but where else do I find other lesbians??? I wish I could go back to when I didn’t know “bi lesbians” existed it was easier back then. Apparently the only thing to make intrusive thoughts subside is to be like “so what if I’m not a lesbian, who cares” but I cant do that. I wanna go back to when I didn’t know there were people who deliberately fake being gay because that’s also one of my fears,, even though when I realized I was a lesbian it felt like I REALIZED it rather than chose it

(this is gonna be long but it's very important to talk about so just a heads up on that)

i am so so sorry to hear this, and im infuriated that these fucking creeps in the "community" have caused not only so much blatant lesbophobia to spread but also have caused so much harm to lesbians.

i am right with you because ive been through, and still go through sometimes, what you're experiencing. its terrifying that all this bullshit can snowball and make any doubts we lesbians already have from living in this heterosexual patriarchal society double and multiply even more viciously.

my internalised lesbophobia has worsened also. i doubt myself alot and more often thanks to all this bs. its... i dont even have words to express how damaging lesbophobia, especially from within the "community", is.

it causes harm and trauma and pain and suffering for lesbians, but all these stupid juvenile shits just think it doesnt matter because "uwu theyre so kweer and cool now"

it sucks... but i need you to know it is not your fault that you feel this way.

no matter what anyone inside or outside the community says, and no matter what your spiralling thoughts might make you believe as a result of lesbophobia inside and outside the community, you are not straight, you are not a "bi lesbian", you are not bisexual. you are a lesbian.

i know it is so so hard to just say but i promise you, nothing they say will ever ever change the reality of your lesbianism. i promise you.

it hurts, and its beyond infuriating to have to share space with these disrespectful bastards who coopt our lived experience for a moment of attempted self-actualisation, and that pain deserves to be acknowledged and soothed, not pushed away.

i wish i could give you a hug rn honestly because this shit just fucking sucks. i too wish i could go back to the time when these idiots werent even a concept in my mind or memory, but if there is any advice i can give you to help ease the torment of this constant barrage, it is this:

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

1) know, for a fact, that nothing anyone, and i mean ANYONE says and no matter how loud they say it, will ever change the lived and exact reality of your innate sexuality.

nothing will ever magic away your lesbianism. it is wired into you, it IS you, a very central part of your personhood. that is not something that any words, especially words shat out of the asshole of a dickhead child on the internet, can ever change.

im not disregarding the hurt, im just reminding you that who you are, who you truly are, cannot change because of the words that hurt. especially because you know deep down that those words are not true.

because being a lesbian is who you are. it is not a quota to reach, or what you do, it is who we are. innately. you know where your natural attactions lie, what genders draw your attraction exclusively and without effort. you know that deep down. we are literally born this way. words cannot change that.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

2) the best thing to do whenever you accidentally glimpse said bullshit is to block them and focus on uplifting the actual lesbian community.

lesbians community is such an integral lifeline, i cannot emphasise the sheer importance of enough.

these idiots are, after all, idiots and do not deserve your energy, your time or your pain. they will never matter, and the truth is, they only exist on the internet among weirdos who have no sense of self so seek it by stealing bits and pieces from other peoples personal experience and identity.

they are and always will be inauthentic, unlike you.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

3) find and focus on the joy of your lesbianism individually and in lesbian community with other lesbians.

We lesbians are blessed to experience the best kind of human life possible: lesbianism.

our sexuality is bold and strong and proud and beautiful and brilliant and effervescent. it is perfect and brave and worthy of honor and praise and celebration and respect.

our community of lesbians is just as exquisite as we are individually. we are diverse and divine. every butch, femme, stud, stone, masc and feminine lesbian; every trans woman, transmasc, transfem and nonbinary lesbian; every black and brown and lesbian of color; every aromantic, asexual, aroace, non-partnering and polyamourous lesbian; every lesbian of every age and race is so overflown with wisdom and joy and love and brilliance. there is nothing more empowering as a lesbian and nothing that strengthens lesbian pride more than being in a community of lesbians and finding joy in ourselves through each other.

and im not just saying this to be mushy. i mean it. lesbians are divine, and thus, you are also divine.

you are perfect as a lesbian because you ARE a lesbian. you are incredible and intelligent and brilliant and brave.

nothing will change the brilliance of who you are, and in everything you are as a lesbian, you have a universe of lesbians who have been, who are and who will be, all of whom have not only been through the same and similar demeaning bs from the same kind of lesbophobic idiots, but they fought it back and survived and lived and thrived as lesbians.

you are just as strong as every lesbian who has been and is. and you are not alone. i promise you.

i am slowly rebuilding the community of lesbians on this blog that i had on my old one, but i promise you, on my blog you are safe. i swear, i will always always put lesbians first here, and that includes you. i will always defend and support and celebrate lesbians first here, and here you will find many other lesbians who will do the same.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

i know this was long, im sorry about that but i just need you to know that i see and feel your pain with you, and i need you to know that you arent going through it alone, and you are not alone.

we lesbians have always stuck together to defend and fight for one another, we have always survived, we have always been here, and we always will be.

i hope this reassures you in some way, and know you're always welcome and safe here ❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

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