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yunnuys · 2 days

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Sensitive

JJK men with a sensitive girlfriend

Incl (^_−)−☆ Nanami Satoru Choso Suguru Toji

Nanami Kento:

Nanami found out how sensitive your thighs were one night when he was driving you two home from a date night. All it took was for him to just rest his hand on your thigh and you immediately closing your legs around it. He raises an eyebrow at you but he doesn’t say anything, he just keeps driving.

The date always ends with a movie night, so you two are sitting on the couch. Nanami glances over at you who’s engrossed in the movie, that’s when an idea pops into his head. He places his hand onto your thigh and squeezes softly, you feel yourself tense up again. “You did it again.” You turn to him with an unreadable expression. “Did what Ken?” No use in playing coy cause Nanami can and always will see through you. He just raises chuckles softly knowing that he just uncovered something new about you.

That’s how he ends up between your thighs, one hand keeping them spread apart while he traces soft kisses up your inner thighs. It causes your legs to quiver in response, and a soft gasp to escape your lips. “Didn’t know you were that sensitive here.” He says as he eyes drift up to yours, suckling softly to leave a light mark on the flesh.

“M not…”

“Is that so?” Nanami smiled as his kisses trailed higher and higher until they reach the spot where you need him most.

Satoru Gojo:

Satoru is a boob lover! He loves all of them no matter the shape and/or size. He never leaves boobs alone. He’s always squeezing them, looking at them, and laying on them whenever he got the opportunity to. No matter how many times you swat his damn hand away.

Anyway when that time of the month was approaching your boobs would always get sore and especiallyyyyy your nipples. You would complain to Satoru in which he would always say “why don’t you just let me massage them?” In which YOU reply with “I don’t like the way your eyes just lit up, you’re too excited so no I’ll deal with it.” He just pouts like a big baby he is, asking- no pleading for you to let him help out. So you agreed. Which was silly of you :0

But you’re not really complaining when he has you on his lap, your back to his chest as he lifts your shirt up. It was going good as he used his hands to lightly massage the mounds of flesh. Until his fingers just slightlyyy brush over your hardened nipples, causing you to let out a soft moan. “Oh?”

“Don’t.”

“Didn’t know my baby was that sensitive there.” Satoru continued to tease your nipples, applying just the right amount of pressure that has you squirming in his lap and breathing heavily. “Satoru.. fuck-“

“Think you could cum like this?” Satoru can’t hide that stupid smirk on his face.

Choso Kamo:

You both are extra sensitive when it comes to sex. All it takes is one touch and the both are you are shivering messes. When you two have sex you both get wrapped up in the sensation it’s hard to stop, no matter how overstimulated you or him get. Well to make a long story short you two are just one big whiney, filthy, and loud mess!

You’re on top bouncing on his cock, a creamy ring of cum where you two meet. Choso holds onto your hips as he throws his head back, moans just falling from his lips. “Fuck fuck fuck..” The both are you are SWEATY from multiple rounds but neither of you can stop, not yet one more won’t hurt right? The way his cock is repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you and the way your walls are tightening around him is maddening!!

“A-ahhh… Cho ‘m gonna…”

“Fuck me too baby- shit I’m..” His words don’t finish as he spills inside you once again, the both of you gasping in euphoria. But! As soon soon as you two catch your breath your hips are moving against his again. “One more Cho.. jus can’t get enough.”

Anyways at least TWO more rounds after that!

Suguru Geto:

He is obsessed with your neck.. like he loves to buy you pretty necklaces so he can put them around you. Suguru loves it when you get slightly tense when he places kisses on your nape once he finishes clasping the necklace on your neck. “What was that for? You like that don’t you pretty girl.”

You could be in the kitchen making dinner by yourself when he suddenly comes up behind you and nuzzles into your neck. “Mmm smells good in here.” One kiss on the side of your neck. “Thank you Suguru I found this recipe online.” Another kiss to the back of your neck, his hands come around to rest of your hips. You can feel the wetness pooling at your core, pressing your thighs together as you focus on chopping the vegetables. “Kinda busy right now… save that for later.”

“Yeah? Later? Sure you don’t want it now.” Suguru nips at your neck, pressing his tongue immediately after to soothe the spot. His trails two fingers into the waistband of your underwear, feeling how damp you were. “You’re soaked and I haven’t done anything.”

“Sugu…” you whine trying to seemed annoyed but you make no effort to move or stop him.

Suguru just coos at you, burying his face into your neck as he buries two fingers inside of you. “Just focus on the cooking, let me take care of you real quick baby.”

Toji Fushiguro:

I’ll just get straight to the point because he knows exactly how to make you feel good. He knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows exactly how to make you cry for more… or less ^ - ^.

Toji has this thing where he won’t stop until you’re a crying mess. He thinks you look the best while he’s sucking and licking at your pussy, it’s already puffy and soaking from previous orgasms. He’s in heaven as your juices dribble down to his chin, your hands splayed in his hair. “T-toji.. c-can’t.. too much.”

He just responds by prodding his tongue at your hole, lapping at your wetness before he places his mouth on the part that makes you squirm the most. “You can take it I know you can just give me one more, you can be good right? I know you can.” Is the last sentence he says before latching onto your already overstimulated clit, sucking harshly on the swollen nub. And just like that your thighs are closing around his head as another mind blowing orgasm washes over you.

“What a good fuckin girl.”

ty for the love on the last one! If you have any requests or feedback I’ll gladly take them (^o^)

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a-b-riddle · 1 day

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Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

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beejunos · 3 days

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UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you.

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was.

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption!

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge!

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel.

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently.

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory.

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?"

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face.

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner!

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work.

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you.

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you.

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen.

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?"

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again.

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod.

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you.

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing.

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel.

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath.

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled.

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints.

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction.

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to?

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you.

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door.

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes.

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes.

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him.

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin.

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form.

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying.

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs.

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now."

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid.

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!"

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see.

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago.

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire.

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough.

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch.

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x reader angst #hazbin hotel alastor x reador angst #hazbin hotel angst

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stylesharrys · 2 days

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special smokes [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party.

word count: 3,774

warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking

a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3

They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.

Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.

And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it.

It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest.

She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with.

Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time.

His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him.

Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.

If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her.

She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.

Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can.

“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”

The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor.

Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.

Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something.

“Anybody got a smoke?”

“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.”

Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint.

But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her.

When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him.

Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins.

Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N.

Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on.

There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him.

But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek.

Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her.

“I have an idea to make this more interesting.”

She looks at him, eyebrow raised.

“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”

Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.”

Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.”

Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him.

Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart.

They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.

There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game.

It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be.

Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere.

It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?”

He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement.

“You’s got me a present?”

Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth.

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head.

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?”

Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.”

Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied.

He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress.

She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans.

Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth.

She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks.

“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever.

He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.

Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees.

“I want to taste you.”

Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.

Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it.

She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin.

“Fuck my throat.”

Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair.

If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t.

Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum.

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her.

It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”

The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure.

It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense.

It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker.

He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath.

He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress.

Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles.

“Harry, please.”

She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now.

“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says.

She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.

“Next time.”

Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it.

Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care.

With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole.

A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her.

It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.”

She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight.

“Good girl, angel.”

Smack!

His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more.

Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers.

She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time.

“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.”

“It’s yours! I’m yours!”

Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk.

His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too.

Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!”

Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot.

Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes.

“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.”

He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady.

It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests.

It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her.

Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face.

Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her.

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.”

Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it.

He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket.

Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one.

It’s the least of his concerns, though.

Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down.

All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them.

What the hell have they gotten themselves into?

let me know what you thought :)

tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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dfortrafalgar · 3 days

Text

I'm Finding You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Epilogue

[Prev]

You pulled your car into your driveway, smiling at the sight of the two bicycles your daughters had received from the previous holiday season sitting by the door of your garage. The green one, Cora's, was upside down. Parking and grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you pushed open your door and climbed out, walking around to the back door of your small house and pushing it open with your elbow.

“I’m home!” you shouted.

Immediately, little footsteps sprinted from the other room toward you.

“MAMA, I need to show you something!” Cora almost slipped on the floor with the speed in which she threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around your legs and trying to drag you toward the living room.

Laughing, you placed your bag down on the counter beside the door and followed your ecstatic daughter into the rest of your home.

The sight that greeted you made you wheeze.

Cora and her sister had somehow apprehended their father, holding him to the floor and wrapping him in fake gauze. Bepo was laying beside his dad with his fluffy head on his abdomen, snoring away despite the chaos.

“Daddy was a victim of an awful house fire, so we’re wrapping him up,” Rose blurted, tying more fake gauze around your husband’s arm.

Law lazily picked his head up from the floor. “Hey, babe. I was a victim in a house fire. No other survivors.” He didn’t even have time to ask you how your therapy appointment had gone before his younger daughter piped up once more.

“That’s right, and we’re the only doctors in the entire world qualified to help him!” Cora boasted, her small hands on her hips. It was then you noticed your husband’s white work coat, with his badge still clipped to the breast pocket, shrouding Rose as she finished sloppily wrapping Law’s forearm in gauze. She was swimming in it. Her hands barely peeked out from the baggy sleeves.

You laughed, sitting down on the floor next to Bepo’s rump and crossing your legs. “What are you teaching these kids?”

“Practical medicine,” he replied.

Rose smiled, giving a clumsy pat to her father’s noggin. “You never know when you might need a skin graft.”

You snorted, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “I think you might be the only five year olds on the planet who knows what a skin graft is.”

“Tomorrow, Daddy said he’s gonna teach us how to remove lung tumors,” Cora chirped.

You gazed at your husband, deadpanning. He stared back at you. “Before you say anything, this was their idea.”

“And who gave them the idea?” you asked, a smirk on your lips.

Law backpedaled, a small, faint blush ghosting over his cheeks. “Can you blame me?”

You laughed, letting Cora pull you closer to her so she could give your own arm an expert assessment.

“No, I can’t.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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mightiestofmumblers · 1 day

Text

Simon Riley, who's been surrounded by death for longer than he can remember. It's become harder and harder to remember the years without it. Whether the ones who fall are the soldiers beside him or enemies at his own hands no longer matters to him, not really, not like it should.

Ghost, who becomes used to watching that final spark leave a set of eyes before they become glossy and empty. It takes him years to notice that final little thing. Nothing more than a reflection, but She's there.

Ghost, who questions Price and Soap, quietly and reluctantly, but they don't understand. They don't get it like he does. And it doesn't make sense, he knows it doesn't. Soldiers are known to go insane after too long in the field, perhaps that's what's happening to him.

It's after not sleeping for 60 hours that he sees Her after all, sweeping or floating through the battlefield, draped in every colour on the spectrum and not a single one of them. Ghost has never seen a face like it, and he knows he never will. All of Her reeks of paradoxical features and curves that swirl and change whenever he thinks he's finally grasped some aspect of Her. She bends down, soft and caring, as the final light slips from his teammate's eyes, and She carries him with her while his body remains.

The second he tries to stop Her, reach out and touch her, his hands slip through her. For one moment lasting years and less than a second, She glances at him. He doesn't blink, but She disappears anyway.

Years pass. Ghost recognises her. Always. In time, she watches him through reflections. She follows him wherever he goes. But there's nothing cruel about it. It's impossible with the sad smile shining from Her. It's not something she does but rather something that she is.

Ghost, who no longer has any true fears on the battlefield. It's simply another work day. But it changes when he sees Her. How She looks at him. He isn't afraid of Death but he manages to stagger back. Running is futile, he's seen others feverishly try to crawl from Her, fingers scraping at the ground until the skin wears away, a bloody trail following the leg no longer there and all of it with no use. Fighting is quite the same: as impossible as this entire thing is improbable.

"Shhh." Something beyond a voice, coming from his own head, he's sure, coos. "So close to me. You rarely ever are. How long has it been? No... you're alright, my love."

Ghost stops. She's infinitely tall yet he looks down at Her. Her smile isn't sad as She stretches a hand towards him, lifting the bottom of his mask, and that's when an inkling of fear finds him. For years, She's been his sole comfort on the battlefield. A single neverending entity he could always trust to be with him no matter how many years were to pass, but after wishing for so long to see Her, have Her closer, he wants nothing more than hundreds of miles to separate them.

"Is it time?"

"Afraid not, love." She smiles with a thousand pleasant summer days and cosy winter nights. "I have a job to do, but you've been close to me for so long. I want to see your face before I go."

Death lifts the skull, removes every layer until his scarred skin is visible to Her.

"How can I see you?"

"What a wicked thing it is." A sigh falls from wonderful lips as She caresses his cheek with a cool touch. "I'm sorry, Simon."

"Simon..." He repeats, tasting the foreign word.

She's fading.

"Wait! How can I-"

"Don't worry, love. No matter what, you'll see me again at the end."

Ghost becomes worse, more than he's ever been. With enough blood on his hands and enough souls at his feet, he can see Her again. He haunts the battlefields like never before, staring into the eyes of his victims for the mere chance of catching a glimpse. However long, no matter how many bodies it takes, he will see Her again.

« ⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑ »

I've had this in my ideas doc for, like, years, and I just needed to get it out lmao. I'd love to write a full fic but unless I'll get 30 hours in a day, I don't have that kinda time lmao.

#cod #call of duty #ghost #drabble #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #141 #task force 141 #fan #fan fiction #wri #writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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tipsyleaf · 1 day

Note

The relationship between Violet and her mother since she’s an angsty teen now I feel would just worsen a little when she found out she was having a little brother. They were probably so close when she was little. It was already a little rocky (what teen girl didn’t have a rough patch with their mom at that age. Ik I did) but the addition of a new baby just means less attention for her. She was probably too young to process it when Cecilia was born cause she was little but being a teen and the idea of having a new baby must be rough. Especially as the months pass on and her mom tries to bridge the gap between them before he’s born, only thankfully it was fixed after he entered the world :)

(Oh it be so sweet conversation though. I can only imagine the moment they finally talk it out.)

It's late at night. You can't fall back asleep after waking up for Scottie's 2am feeding and you're down in the living room, watching TV in the dark. Violet comes out of her room to get water and sees her mother awake on the couch. She just walks past with her water bottle not saying anything at all and grabs water from the fridge. Moving to go back to her room you finally say something.

"Not even gonna say hi?" Violet stops as she's about to step into the hallway, looking over her shoulder and nods.

"Hi..."

"You wanna sit with me for a few minutes?" Violet nods again, walking over and sitting at the other end of the couch. This is the farthest she's ever been from you in a long time. The air is thick and tense as you both watch whatever you have on.

"You okay?" Violet takes a sip of her water, nodding again, but she won't look at you.

The silence fills the room again, making the TV way too loud to you as you start thinking.

"This reminds me of when you were 3..." You smile, finally getting her attention to look at you.

"You got so mad at your father for giving me kisses first before you when he got back from a work trip and you refused to talk to him for 2 hours."

"I don't remember that." She moves closer, curling up into your side. You put your arm around her and kiss the top of her head. Smelling her lavender scent with an even bigger smile.

"Of course you don't, you were too little... Are you mad at me?" Violet tenses up under your touch. You look down lifting her face up, her eyes meeting yours. Slightly damp.

"Not mad just... Left out." The realization hits you. Ever since the baby was born you'd been so preoccupied making sure Cecilia knew you still loved her and take care of Scott... You forgot that your oldest still needed reassurance, even at her age.

"Aw, sweet pea... I'm sorry." You hug her tightly, rubbing her back as she hugs you for dear life.

"It's okay."

"No it's not. You deserve time with me... I know you sure as hell need a break from your father... He's so far up your ass he could tell you what your insides look like." She chuckles, smiling for the first time in a while as you kiss her forehead.

"Can we spend time together?"

"Of course honey! If you want to spend time with me or ever just need me we please tell me. I grew up with grandma and I'm thankful for her but she smothered me... So I thought giving you space was the right idea. I guess I gave you too much."

You sit back, continuing to rub her back as she relaxes into your side, thinking about anything and everything you could do together.

"Okay... How about instead of you doing daddy daughter day with your sister you come out with me? You always look so miserable when you come home from those."

"Ah... We always do such... Kiddie stuff. It's boring but I just can't tell Dad."

"Well, we can do more adult stuff together... Like, get a Mani Pedi... Go shopping, eat and maybe a movie? Would you like that?"

"I'd like that a lot actually... Thanks."

"Of course baby. Anything for you." You hug her tight again, squeezing her to you as she groans.

"Mommy please, I can't breathe." You let her go, smiling and holding her at arms length.

"Did you just call me Mommy?!" She looks embarrassed for a moment.

"Felt right... Just don't tell Dad or neither of us will hear the end of it."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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dinogoofymutated · 2 days

Note

So I'm warming up to the idea of Cable now with this new animation style. And now I can't help but imagine a mutant reader seeing him shirtless for the first time 👉🏽👈🏽. Maybe she's helping him treat a wound he cant reach on his back and he's too worn out to rely on his telekinesis for it. Sure she knows that he has a metal arm. Techno-organic viruses were nasty business. But she never imagined she'd get to see the stark contrast of metal and flesh up close. Just a tender moment where she gets to see him at his most vulnerable. Preferably sfw. Sorry if this is too long winded or specific. Really love your writing and enjoy what you share with us regardless if u choose this one or not 🫶🏽

SFW!Cable/GN!Reader OOOOGHHHH when I tell you I have been thinking about this since you sent me the ask!! I've been dying to write this but forced myself to follow a schedule :( I've never really been a Cable girly but this scenario has been in my head non-stop! I just hope this fic does the same to others!!! Speaking of which, I hope this isn't too OOC for him! This also might get a pt 2 with some smooching 😘

Read pt. 2 Here :)

-Ps- Heads up, finals week is coming up for me and I have a lot of essays and work to do. my writing is sadly going to slow down a bit. I don't think I'm going to close requests for now but it's not out of the realm of possibility! TWs: Can't really think of any. Gross depictions of techno-organic shit. As always, Reader written while picturing fem! but no pronouns mentioned. The reader is short in this one, sorry to all my Amazonian friends.

Prime sentinels were like wasps. Squashing one could be relatively easy with the right tools, but it was difficult to handle multiples at once. It had been a rough day, and your ears were still ringing from the sounds of blaster fire when you got to the safe house. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, body exhausted from overusing your mutant powers. Bruises are forming all over you, and despite the pain and soreness, you know you got off easy compared to Cable.

He’s got an arm slung around your shoulder, using you as a crutch as you help him limp over to the table- although you’re sure you’re not a very good one, too short for him to properly lean on. His gun clanks on the floor as he sits, grunting as the movement sends shooting pains through his body. You can tell his left arm is aching, the techno-organic virus fighting to beat the telekinetic powers keeping them still. You weren’t the only one who overdid it today, but you also weren’t the one who had to keep a virus from eating you alive.

Once Cable is settled, the routine starts. You cautiously make a round through the safe house, making sure blinds are drawn and entryways secured. Usually, the task was split between the two of you, being faster and safer than it would be alone- but he would take it over when you were badly hurt. It was only natural that you would do the same. You feel the sting of anxiety and worry in your heart. Cable had saved your ass today. He had done so many times, but normally the fighting wasn’t this extreme. You had been stupid, and he was suffering the consequences.

A series of pained grunts lead you back into the kitchen once you’ve finished, and you can tell Cable is pissed just by the tone of them. You’re facing his back when you walk in, noticing the large red stain that spans across the width of his shoulders. You try to hide the worry on your face as you approach him. He has the medkit sprawled out on the counter, sorting through the various items in it.

“Can’t believe this thing doesn’t have a damn mirror.” He grunts. You hum in response, looking him over before examining the items on the table.

“What do you need a mirror for?” You ask, voice coming out a little hoarse. You clear your throat, must be from the smoke earlier. Cable sends you a look, tossing his head towards his back. You mouth an “oh” before looking at him, unable to hide your worried expression. You’d seen him stitch his wounds up with his telekinesis before, when the fight was all guns and no powers. An action like that was child’s play for someone of his capabilities. For him to actively avoid it, and the way his arm seemed to be bothering him more than normal… It made you worried. It made you feel guilty.

You look down at the suture kit, open on the table from where Cable had unzipped it, and then look back at him, wordlessly asking. He gives you a cautious look for a moment, before it shifts into something much softer. He doesn’t bother nodding, choosing to simply take his shirt off instead.

You blush a little but quickly get to work, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. They’re too big for you, meant to fit Cable’s sturdy hands instead of your own smaller ones. You try not to get distracted by the sight of him shirtless as you pick up what you need and get behind him. The air has shifted between the two of you, forming into something a little more intimate. Something that builds itself on words unspoken, truths that neither of you is quite ready to communicate yet.

His back is broad and beautiful, dotted with scars and bruises. The gash on his shoulders is from a stray blast, starting at the top of his left shoulder and ending at the lower shoulder blade of his right.

You’re not sure if you had been ready to see the cut-off between flesh and metal.

The cords of metal attach to the skin of his shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. They sprout from underneath the skin, winding against each other in a way that makes no clear sense to you. The top layers of skin are rough, keloid scarring having formed at the impasse of skin and metal. It's horrific, the way the virus has both eaten and forced its way under the skin. The top of the gash is somewhat deep, the deep inner cording revealed by the wound cutting through the top of his skin has you unable to look away despite the horror that has taken you.

“I can feel you staring, you know.” Cable’s rumbling voice causes you to snap back to reality.

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You trail off, not fully able to place the words. He sighs, and you mistake it for annoyance. You quickly get back on track and begin to disinfect the wound. Cable hardly flinches as you do so. You’re overly cautious as you stitch him up, focusing on each stitch being perfectly placed. You know they wouldn’t stay for long. Cable had a habit of tearing his stitches. You hope that maybe you’d be able to keep that from happening this time.

You place both hands on his shoulder blades when you are done. The nerves have worn off as the pseudo-doctor in you took over. You’re trying to examine the stitches, but find that your attention keeps being drawn back to that stark contrast of his shoulder. If Cable notices, he doesn’t say anything. You glance at the back of his head, trying to gauge what he’s feeling.

Your left hand drifts a little. Cable shudders as your thumb gently traces that line of scarring, the metal of his arm feeling extra cold compared to the heat of his skin. You’re waiting for him to say something. To tell you to back off. To grumble and shake you off and avoid speaking to you like he used to when you first started to work together- when he was so determined not to get attached.

But he doesn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. The tenseness of his shoulders slowly gives as the gently touching morphed into more purposeful touches, working the stiff muscles- what was left of the organic ones, anyway.

It’s intimate. It’s quiet. It’s… nice. Part of you wishes it would last a little longer. Part of you wishes he would let you touch him like this more often.

Cable stiffens again as the thought crosses your mind, recoiling away from you. He stands suddenly, turning around to face you. His towering stature used to make you nervous out of fear. Now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. Part of you had forgotten about the glimpses he takes into your mind. A flicker of anxiety ignites when you realize how much he might have seen. The two of you just look at each other for a moment, his brown eyes hard compared to the softness from earlier. You hadn’t meant to think so much. You didn’t think he was horrific. It was the virus. What it was doing to him. The energy and effort it takes out of him. That was what scared you.

Cable was used to the stares. The horror. Most recoiled at the sight of his flesh. It only made sense to him when you did too.

But Nathan… Nathan wasn’t ready for the depth of your thoughts. The care in your eyes. He wasn’t ready for the depth of his own feelings. The ones that cause such a storm within him. The ones that cause him to be stupid. The ones that make him focus more on saving you than the goal of every mission.

“Is this… Are we okay?” You ask. He didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the fear that has swelled within you. Most of your emotions were always written on your face. It made things easier for him when he didn’t have to search for your thoughts. That hardness in his eyes softens yet again, and he glances away for a moment.

“... Yeah.” Is all he says. His heart feels light when you finally smile at him, even though an underlying nervousness still resides behind that smile. You let out a relieved sigh, and he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Instead, he sits back down. He faces away from you, giving you the space to finish taking care of the wound on his back.

You don’t realize how late it is until you’re finished, and the mess on the counter has been cleaned and contained back in the medkit. The two of you sit together as you eat. The food isn’t great- consisting of an MRE that’s not exactly as advanced as the futuristic weapons and technology would lead you to believe. He doesn’t say anything when you lean on his shoulder, or when your breathing evens out, having fallen asleep on his side.

The aches and pains don’t really bother Nathan as he carries you to bed, but the thoughts of you, your feelings, your thoughts… Those keep him awake longer than any wound would.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #nathan summers headcannons #Cable imagines

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padfootagain · 8 hours

Text

Only An Almost (VI)

Chapter 6: Hiding

Hello!! Here is a new chapter!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2387

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew needed to talk to you.

After his conversation with Sam, there was no doubt left in his mind that he needed to tell you how he truly felt. This… situation, this… arrangement… it couldn’t go on. It was hurting him too much. Having you for a moment, and then being back to square one, holding himself back all the time, and this fool’s hope that you could feel the same if he waited…

He couldn’t keep on doing this. Another week and two nights with you had passed, and Andrew was now resolute. As he was knocking on your front door and then digging his hands in his pockets, he kept on repeating the words he had prepared beforehand. It was so much easier to write things down, he had sketched his speech this morning.

I know you don’t want a relationship at the moment, I understand that.

He knocked a second time as you weren’t opening the door.

But I’m not sure this… arrangement of ours is a good idea. I see you as more than just a friend. Way more than that. And I don’t think that I can keep on being casual with you.

At long last, the keys turned in the lock, and he stood a little straighter, taking a deep breath.

I get it that this is not the right time for you, and that’s alright. I’ll wait. I’ll wait all the time you need to have a proper date and a proper relationship with you. I’ll wait for you.

You opened the door.

I’ll wait for you, Y/N, if you want to give me a chance…

“Andy? Were we… had we something planned for today?”

“Hi! Erm… not exactly, but like… I haven’t seen you in a few days, I was getting worried you might have been eaten by some roaming spirit or the monster under your bed or something…”

He mentally slapped himself for such a weird and stupid joke.

You granted him an amused smile nonetheless, he was even ready to believe that you were struggling not to laugh.

“I’m alright, I’m just super busy with work.”

“You look tired.”

You looked exhausted, actually, with bags under your eyes, dishevelled hair…

“Thanks, I guess…”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not what I meant. You are always stunning. But you do look like you haven’t had a proper rest in a few days.”

“I have so many things to do…”

You heaved a sigh, and it was easy to see that you were buzzing with anxiety.

“Can I come in?” Andrew finally asked, but he was surprised when you hesitated.

“I have some work to do…”

“It’s Sunday afternoon, you’re not supposed to be working on Sunday.”

“Andy…”

“Do I really need to beg?”

He gave you a crooked smile, the ones he thought were almost cocky but behind which he badly hid that he was worried. You heaved a sigh and let him in.

“Tea?” you asked, although you were already grabbing the kettle by the time Andrew had rid himself of his coat.

“Thanks,” he smiled as he sat down by your table.

He waited until you were sitting with him before speaking again. He reckoned that you needed to be eased into the conversation he was aiming for, so he started with niceties.

“What has you so busy then?”

“Work. Important projects.”

“What kind?”

“Look, Andy… I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have time for this…”

“You can’t keep on working without taking a break… it’s Sunday.”

“Like you’re never working on Sundays.”

“I’m a musician, not an office employee. If I want to, I can decide not to work for an entire month, and no one is going to say a thing about it.”

“Touché…”

“Seriously, though… I’m just worried. Why don’t you take a small break with me, huh?”

“Andy, if you came to get laid, I’m not in the mood…”

“I didn’t…”

He frowned as he stared at you, offended by the thought. Your expression softened.

“Sorry. I’m a little on edge.”

“I haven’t heard from you in several days, I was just stopping by to check up on you.”

“I know… I’m sorry, that’s very nice of you, actually. I’m just so…”

“Stressed? Tired? On the verge of a nervous breakdown?”

“All of the above…”

Andrew drank a gulp of tea or two, before standing up in a jolt.

“Come on, go get changed.”

“What?”

“You need some fresh air. Some fresh air, and a nice walk. Come on. Get properly dressed, we’re leaving.”

“Andy…”

“You look like a zombie, you need a break.”

“I thought I was still stunning.”

“You are. Don’t ask me how you do it. Come on!”

You smiled, and seemed to hesitate one last time before getting up as well. You went to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he bent to meet you halfway.

“Thank you, Andy. Where are we going?”

“I’ll find a nice spot, I promise.”

How could Andrew bring up this conversation?

He kept his words light and playful during the short drive to the spot he knew you would like. Some quiet path winding through the Wicklow hills, one that you knew already, but didn’t go there often. It was an easy, peaceful walk. Perfect to focus on nature, and get out of your head. It would do you good.

You were finally starting to relax, and Andrew didn’t dare to bring up the subject he so desperately needed to discuss. Partly because he didn’t want to stress you out again, partly because he was too afraid.

You joked around and spoke of unimportant but lovely things while you walked, his fingers brushing yours every once in a while, blaming the uneven terrain for the ghostly touch. But he didn’t reach out, didn’t hold onto you. He didn’t dare to.

You had brought some snacks with you, prepared while Andrew was pestering you to hurry. He decided that he would talk to you while you took a break to eat them. Yes, that sounded good…

“How often do you come here?” you asked him after a short silence.

“To this spot you mean? I don’t know… Haven’t come in a few weeks, that’s for sure.”

You giggled, and he slowed down to walk next to you again.

“You and your long legs. Wait for us mortals, would you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“I’ll give you a snack.”

“Hmm… that could work.”

“Or actually, never mind that. Go ahead and play the lure. So the beasts will attack you and spare me.”

“The beasts? What beasts? The squirrels? A bird?”

“There are badgers everywhere around here.”

“True, but I’m too skinny for their taste, I’m sure.”

“A bite-size ankle.”

“Nothing but bone, I’m afraid. Not enough sustenance. They’ll have to get to you, eventually.”

“Naughty.”

You walked further along the quiet path, laughing and joking and talking nonsense. And this was nice, unbelievably nice. There was just something about you that made Andrew’s shoulders lighter, his world brighter.

Love. It’s love.

You took a turn, came to particularly nice spot, breaking free from the trees of the forest trail. There was a clear view of the hills from there, and the valleys below.

“This is so nice. You were right, I was cooked up at home, and then at the office… I needed this. I needed some time outside, to clear my head.”

The Wicklow hills rolled before you, in various shades of green, the bluish grey of a stream running between them. You sat down together on an old stone wall, and you shared your snack with him: some slices of apple and a few biscuits.

“It’s so nice out here. We had not done that in a while, had we?” you went on, before taking a bite at the piece of apple in your hand.

The fruits were sweet and sticky with juice and sugar. The flesh had turned a little brown, oxidized by the air. Andrew hummed in agreement as he took another piece.

“Yeah, a few months, I’d say.”

“Longer than that. I don’t think we’ve done this since you’ve been back.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

He saw your gaze softening with sadness, something close to melancholy.

“How do you do it?”

Andrew frowned in response, silently asking what you meant. You looked at the landscape again as you answered.

“The touring. The constant travelling. Always being away from home. How do you do it?”

Andrew shrugged.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I get to do what I love, I can’t complain about it, I reckon. I’m so lucky people across the world love my music, that… total strangers on another continent can find something to relate to in my songs… It’s more than I’ve ever hoped for concerning my career. I’m very grateful for that.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He couldn’t refrain a small smile at that. You were always so stubborn, never letting him get away with things. He loved that about you, it was endearing.

He set his gaze on the landscape too, tracked some clouds drifting in the blue sky. The weather was so lovely this afternoon… he wondered when it would turn to rain.

“It’s tough,” he admitted. “On one hand I’m unbearably lucky. I love travelling, I’m going to places I would never have dreamt of visiting. I meet amazing people. I get to perform my songs, and people come to see me. And I would lie if I pretended that I don’t love touring. But it’s… it’s hard to be away for so long. You live out of a suitcase. You don’t have a proper bed, not to mention your own. You never sleep twice in the same place, you’re always busy, always torn in a thousand directions at once… you’re never on your own, there are constantly at least five people in the same room as you. Sleeping in a bus is hell. You’re… exhausted, all the time. Stressed because of all the things to do, stressed about the schedule, the interviews, the nerves before a show… And I miss home. I miss my parents, and my brother. I miss my friends. I miss my house, and my dog, and my bees, and just… this. I miss this place. And I miss you…”

He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to look at you again, feeling your stare upon him.

“But in the end, I love it. There’s nothing as rewarding as hearing someone else singing something I have written. There’s nothing as exhilarating as being on stage, and performing and… It feels like I was born to do that. It just feels so right. It’s the same when I write music. It just feels right.”

Slowly, you nodded, a gentle smile on your lips.

“I understand. But it sounds lonely.”

“I’m literally never on my own, that’s an issue, actually… to me it is, at least.”

“But you’re not with your family. Can you say that you’re with the people who matter most to you?”

“Some of them are.”

“What about most of us?”

He granted you a sad smile.

“Yeah… yeah, I miss all of you.”

You looked away again, and he was surprised to catch a glimpse at tears in your eyes.

“I don’t think I could do it. Not just travelling but… just… how can you be with someone if you’re never here?”

It was his turn to look away to hide rising tears. His throat tightened, his heart dropped, his chest was collapsing…

Was that why you didn’t want to be with him? Why you kept him at arm’s length?

“It can be difficult,” he nodded.

“Is that why you broke up with your ex?”

“There were a bunch of reasons. But it was one of them, yeah.”

“I… I don’t think I could handle it. Waiting for you to come back…”

“I understand.”

“Don’t get me wrong, when I proposed our… arrangement… it wasn’t because it was you. I… I genuinely don’t want to date anyone at the moment. My job is a lot. And I… I’m a little lost these days. What I’m trying to say is that… I feel lonely, sometimes. But I can’t be in a relationship right now. But if I proposed for us to remain friends, it wasn’t because I was rejecting you specifically. Do you see what I mean?”

“I think so… but I… I mean like… my career means that… if you were in a position that allowed you time and space for a relationship, you would still not choose me, right? That’s what it means.”

“I…”

But you grew quiet, and he wasn’t stupid. His vision was blurred with tears: a mix of several shades of green, a splash of blue and some grey and white. A cloud was passing.

He had come all the way here with you to talk, and he had his answer.

“You’re… you’re still okay with what we agreed on, right?”

What could he answer?

No… no, it hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced. But I can’t lose you for good. I’m not strong enough to survive it…

“Had I been anything else but a touring musician… would you have wanted to date me?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, unbearably fragile.

You didn’t say anything; he took your answer for a no.

He was being a fool…

“I can’t think like that, Andy.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason you can’t stay for the entire night. That we can’t have pet names. That you can’t kiss me now.”

He blinked his tears away to look at you, frowning, silently encouraging you to keep going.

“I can’t let you break my heart, Andrew.”

His lips parted at your words, he tried to wrap his mind around their meaning, blinked a few times.

It was… It was him. He was the problem. Him, and his job. The same pattern it had always been, all over again, but with you this time around.

You cleared your throat, stood up in a hurry.

“Come on, let’s finish this hike!”

He looked at you as you started to walk away, but didn’t move a muscle.

You could have loved him, and he would still stand no chance at all…

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x fem!reader #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier series #series #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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coryothesub · 11 hours

Text

Sinful Desires

So I’ve been dabbling in some more kinky / taboo themes lately which prompted me to write this as a special treat no one asked for. Basically I have no excuse for this and sorry if I got any tbosas lore wrong because I haven't read the book

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / stepmom!reader / stepcest / breeding kink / mentions of underage sex work

You married Crassus Snow as soon as you turned eighteen. Looking back you could say that you were truly in love with the tall, handsome general. However for him you were just a warm body to sleep next to and tight pussy to drown his sorrow after the unfortunate passing of his beloved wife. His decision to remarry had definitely come too soon and you were definitely too young to even understand the implications.

After you received the news of your husband's tragic death, you decided to stay with the Snows, because you simply had nowhere else to go. Just like many others, your family had been torn apart by war and even the house you’d grown up in was now bombed to shreds. Your only options were to be poor or to be poor and homeless so you opted for the first one.

You were always on good terms with Tigris. Daily struggle to sustain the family had brought you two pretty close especially because you both were forced to do the same unspeakable things just to maintain the food on the table and the roof above your heads.

First you categorically refused to bring her into that, but realizing it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet with your own endeavors and after thousands of silent and desperate “I’ll be fine, if you can do it then I can do it too” you finally gave in and introduced her to some men for whom your ripe age of twenty five was already too old to satisfy their needs.

You both didn't have much choice anyways since Grandma’am simply refused to move into a smaller apartment, let alone leave the Capitol. Apart from that and her other weird quirks she seemed to be a pretty nice lady. At least as far as you knew the right patriotic buttons to push in order to stay on her good side.

Crassus’ son Coriolanus or Coryo, as Tigris used to call him, didn't seem to like you one bit. He considered you an intruder, an unfair replacement to his mother that did nothing but reminded him of his family's tragedy.

Over the years Coryo seemed to have learned to tolerate you, mostly because he felt somewhat grateful for all your efforts, but still he remained cold and distant. You didn't particularly mind that, because you had no idea how to raise a young man. You felt pretty happy that he didn't ask you any awkward questions and managed to figure out everything himself.

Sometimes during his teenage years you noticed Coryo secretly watching you while you were changing or getting ready for a bath. On some occasions he even touched himself while doing it trying to suppress his little moans by biting into his fist. You always knew he was there, but you never confronted him. You knew full well it would make your coexistence very awkward for both of you and frankly you found it pretty amusing.

After all, he was just a silly little boy for you until the time his nineteenth birthday came around. It started even earlier if you thought about it. After Coryo returned from his service in District 12 and got his hands on the Plinths' fortune he turned into a completely different man.

Coryo always had the taste for finer things in life and when he finally got the means to fund it, you only saw him wearing tailored dress suits and perfectly polished shoes. Even his whole posture had changed and when he passed you in the dining room followed by an intoxicating wave of expensive cologne, instead of the anxious malnourished boy you had known for most of your life you saw a fit and handsome young man that reminded you of your late husband so much.

Your run down penthouse was completely refurbished to suit your stepson’s taste and he showered all three of you with lavish presents, encouraging you to throw out your old things.

Finally he could have the life he had always envisioned. And every last memory of your humble existence after the war had to be exterminated and written off into oblivion.

Coryo had become confident, strong and ambitious. Some might say even ruthless. It was hard for Tigris to accept those changes and she grew more distant with her younger cousin. They barely spoke, she was mostly just looking at him with sadness and disappointment in her eyes.

Coryo didn't seem to care about that much. He didn't care about other people's feelings in general. But there was one interesting detail. The colder he became to others, the more delicate and gentle he was with you.

He always wanted to be in your vicinity, lighting your cigarette, opening the door for you or helping you to put on your coat. He always had to do a little something just to remind you he was there. He even pretended to care about your opinion, giving you the most dashing smile every time you seemed to agree with what he had actually already decided.

And the weirdest thing about that all was that he had started to refer to you as “mommy”. He had never called you that before and there was no particular reason for starting it now, especially because it seemed to make Tigris extremely uncomfortable.

And it sounded pretty eerie for your ears too, especially because Coryo always accompanied the word by giving you this one specific look that radiated childish naivety mixed with a hint of pure lust.

It always made your heart skip a beat, especially because in some weird twisted way you wanted it too. The sheer hunger in his icy blue eyes made your pussy tingle and after those interactions you always had to go to your room and touch yourself, your pleasure overshadowed by shame.

After all, you weren’t dead yet, you were just a woman in your early thirties and you hadn't been touched by a man since you had stopped selling your body. But for god's sake he was your stepson! You really needed to find some dick, before things spiraled out of control.

One day you returned to your room after running some errands and found a gift box on your bed. It was adorned with a crimson satin ribbon and a single white rose. You found an envelope laying next to it.

You opened it with trembling fingers, the strong rosy scent of Coryo's cologne filling the air. Inside the envelope there was a card with a few words in your stepson's neat handwriting.

From Coryo to Mommy with love…

You sighed and opened the box, finding a snow white, neatly folded piece of clothing inside. You couldn't really call it a nightgown, it was more like a negligee. You lifted the delicate item against the window, seeing the sunlight pass right through it. Of course it was nearly transparent apart from the exquisite hand made lace embroidery.

Coryo's taste was flawless as ever, you had to admit that, but this had to stop! You were gonna tell him tomorrow. But it wouldn't hurt anyone if you tried it on tonight, right? Just for one night, no one would find out, and you would demand him to return it tomorrow morning.

That night you put Coryo's present on and marveled at yourself in the mirror. It looked like a lacy cloud hugging your naked body so nicely the outline of your feminine curves visible through the sheer fabric. You turned around then moved your hips in a suggestive way flirting with your own reflection in the mirror. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so desirable.

After pairing the negligee with a pair of white cotton panties, you went to bed. Just as you were drowsing off into your sleep, you heard the door creak before someone opened and closed it quietly. You rubbed your eyes and switched on the night lamp just to notice Coryo standing by your bed wearing nothing but his tight white undies and a loose fitting silk robe. His hair wasn't perfectly styled as usual, instead his blonde curls were falling freely around his face.

“Mommy?” He gazed upon you with the most innocent look in his baby blue eyes. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Coryo had never slept in your bed, even when he was a young boy often haunted by terrible nightmares, Tigris was always the one who comforted him and sang him to his sleep, you were just sitting on your bed listening quietly until you were sure the boy was alright.

You knew full well what his true intentions were. You had to act like an adult.

“I really don't think it's the best idea, Coriolanus,” you tried to sound strict and inexorable.

“Please, mommy! It's so cold and I can't sleep. I feel embarrassed to go to Tigris and ask her for a lullaby, not to mention we’re not on the best terms right now,” he was looking at you, his blue eyes wide and desperate.

“Please, please, just this one time!”

You sighed deeply and gave him a faint nod.

“Alright, just this time!”

To your surprise Coryo threw the robe off his shoulders and pulled down his underwear, revealing his long, handsome half hard cock, its tip looking so velvety and just as pink as his lovely lips.

You were so caught off guard that you didn't even manage to make any protests before he jumped into your bed and glued himself to your side, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Mommy…” he whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver. “I’ve been having the worst nightmares… About the war, about all the things we had to do to survive. I’ve tried everything to make them disappear, but they keep coming back…”

You knew this was your last chance to stop this, you had to push him away, order him to leave your room immediately and never come back, but instead sinful words of encouragement just spilled out of your mouth.

“It's alright, babyboy! Mommy's here and you're safe with me,” you hummed gently as your hand caressed his golden curls.

God, this felt so wrong on so many levels especially feeling your stepson's now fully hard cock pressing against your thigh, waiting for what seemed to be inevitable at this point.

“Thank you, mommy, you’re always so good to me,” you heard Coryo say just before feeling his lips on your neck. He kept kissing your soft skin and teasing it with his tongue, you felt your pulse running wild and you knew he probably felt it too.

Coryo's hand, previously resting on your shoulder, was now traveling down, his fingers dove under the lacy fabric of your negligee and started drawing circles around your nipple making your breath speed up.

“Coryo what are you doing?” Your mind still felt as you had to resist the pleasant feeling although your body was enjoying it so much.

He looked at you ever so innocently.

“I read that fidgeting something with your fingers can be really calming,” he said, playing with your nipples and tweaking them gently. “I just wanted to test that theory, it seems like it truly works…”

You just sighed, feeling your whole body filling with the insuperable feeling of pure lust, your nipples were rock hard under Coryo's masterful fingers and you felt a treacherous wetness pooling up in your panties. You hated that your own body was betraying you like that under your stepson's salacious touch.

“Mommy, you have such beautiful breasts…”

You inhaled sharply as Coryo's lips wrapped around your nipple, starting to suck hungrily, while his hand traveled further downwards. It easily found its way between your thighs and dove under the waistband of your soaked panties.

“Oh,” he cooed, dipping his fingers in your wetness. “Mommy really needs her babyboy to help her out, huh?”

“Shut up, Coriolanus!”

You grabbed a fistful of Coryo's curls and pulled him away from titty to smash your lips together in a passionate kiss, he felt so needy and desperate as he was exploring your mouth panting softly as you felt his erect cock pressing to your thigh, leaving a trail of precum from its leaking tip.

“Oh fuck, Coryo,” you whispered his name against his lips feeling him pushing his long slender fingers inside you. Your wet cunt that swallowed them so easily. You were literally dripping around his digits as you felt the embarrassment slowly leaving your body and getting replaced by a feeling of raw insatiable desire.

“I'm here for your mommy,” Coryo whispered, his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling against your soft walls and teasing your sweet spot.

“I will help you fulfill all your needs. That's what family's for right?”

With one swift move you pulled down your panties and crawled on top of him pinning him to the bed and covering his mouth with your hand.

“Don't mention family, you filthy little boy! If you want mommy to give you a treat, you need to stay quiet, is that clear?”

Coryo nodded and you took your hand away from his mouth, wrapping it around his throat instead. The young man gasped watching as your free hand steadied his rock hard cock at your entrance before you slowly sank down on him, your wet pussy taking his whole length with ease. A soft moan escaped your lips as he stretched out your tight cunt.

You kept your hand on his throat in a tight grip as you started to move at an easy pace, eliciting a series of moans from his lips. Coryo's pupils dilated as he saw your pussy sliding up and down his length making it glisten from your juices.

You tightened your grip around his throat as you sped up your movements enjoying his little gasps as he was fighting for air completely under your control. The sight before your eyes made you impossibly wet and lewd slapping sounds filled the room as you bounced up and down his shaft faster and faster with each movement.

Chasing your own pleasure you let go of Coryo's neck and threw your head back, letting the straps if your negligee slide down your shoulders revealing your lovely tits bouncing up and down as you kept riding your stepson's cock.

Coryo's eyes widened at the sight and he let out a deep groan as your tight walls clenched around his cock, his tip hitting against your sweet spot as you kept moving.

“Oh mommy, you’re making me feel so good,” Coryo spoke, breathing heavily as you were too busy chasing your release to make him keep up with his vow of silence.

“I want to cum inside you, to put a baby in your belly. To make you nice and round full of new life that would make our family complete and strengthen our ties forever.”

In your mind you realized how twisted these words were and that they could actually become true considering that you weren't on birth control since your sex work days but your brains were completely shut off by pleasure as you kept moving up and down Coryo's wonderful dick your manicured nails digging into his smooth pale chest.

Coryo's nostrils flared, watching your boobs bouncing up and down as he felt his climax approaching.

“I can't wait for those beautiful tits to be swollen and full of delicious milk oh oooooh…” he cut himself off, moaning loudly as thick ropes of cum filled your cunt spurting up against your velvety walls.

You rode him through his orgasm and your red nails dug deep into his skin leaving red scratches. After mere seconds you came hard all over his cock and squelching sounds filled the room as your juices were mixing together with his cum. You collapsed on top of your stepson, his cock still inside you and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“Just let me stay inside mommy's pussy a little longer,” he whispered. “Don't let the seed go to waste.”

“Fuck you, Coriolanus!” You hissed and bit into his neck using his distraction to wiggle out of his grip and crawl off of him making him whine at the loss of contact.

Coryo didn't put up a fight, he just watched you as you pulled the straps of your negligee back on your shoulders and then pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you.

You sighed and brushed a stray curl off his forehead looking into his big sleepy eyes. There was no way of denying the fact that you had just slept with your stepson, especially since you could still feel his heart beating softly against your skin and his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

It was so wrong. But still deep down in your heart in some sick and twisted way it felt so incredibly right.

#alright I will show myself out #let me know if you want more of this though #coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #thg #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg tbosas #oneshot #cts post

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dalliancekay · 8 hours

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We've been talking for millions of years

Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think. When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious. So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.

And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan. And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.

I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it. After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.

Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart. After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet. But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.

Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into. He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.

Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.

When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.

Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.

Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.

He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be. He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk. Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.

He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty? Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK! Well. No better way to find out. He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.

Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.” A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.

Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened. What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them. If only he had someone to talk to.

Another angel? What. A snake? Oh. Oh. They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!! A lead balloon?!? “Sorry what was that?” Does he remember me? I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.

I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #before the beginning #garden of eden #good omens eden #kaypost

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juggalomary · 13 hours

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did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #kate laswell #agnst #heavy angst #main character death #don’t like don’t read

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riri-twix · 19 hours

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Can We Become We?

Chapter 2: Just an Arrangement

Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.

The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?

She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter

You can also read it on ao3 here

Satoru was leaning back onto the couch, a foot over his knee, and an arm slung around the back. He looked relaxed on the outside, but on the inside, there was a knot in his stomach, only growing tighter by the second.

His expression is blank, turning his head left, then right, then left again, as he follows his father. The man has been pacing back and forth in the living room with quick, determined steps for the past five minutes. It was almost like being caught up in a tennis match, Satoru thought.

“Twenty minutes!” His father grits out, his voice rising in pitch as he struggles to keep his anger under control. “They said they’d arrive in twenty minutes!”

And it’s only been twenty-one. Satoru rolls his eyes and sinks further into the couch. His dad was always on a rush in every situation, always trying to control everything and everyone in his life.

This is just a dinner, for crying out loud. Satoru throws his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, trying to ignore his father's bitching about everything. He needs learn how to relax.

“You should stop stressing, baby.” Came the voice of his mother. He was almost certain that she didn’t even look up from her phone as she said that. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Oh?” There was a smirk to his father’s tone. “Then what is?”

“Hmm?” Okay, now his mother definitely put down her phone. “I have a few ideas. Maybe… I can try them out…”

Eww. If Satoru could roll his eyes while they were closed, he would’ve done it a million times. Instead, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud gag, taking the liberty to even stick his tongue out for better efficiency. An opportunity to piss off his parents? He’ll take it.

“Satoru.” He could almost feel the glare his father sent his way.

“Yes?” A smirk plays on his lips, satisfied that he was able to get on his father’s nerves. “You know, you could just get a room. Then you won’t have to worry about me bothering you.”

Before his father could throw a shoe or the closest object at Satoru’s head, a number of footsteps walks into the room.

“Sir.” Satoru’s eyes peel open when he hears the smooth, even voice of their butler addressing his father. “The Geto family is here.”

Satoru feels his body freeze, a wave of uneasiness washes over him, churning over and over in his stomach as the retreating footsteps of the butler fade away. The steady beating of his heart grows louder in his ears.

The whole point of this gathering was for him and his… fiancés? To meet before tomorrow’s public wedding. He knew that. So why was he feeling so nervous? He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the more he tries to focus on his breathing, the more he feels the tension rising inside of him.

“You must be Suguru.” The words come out of his father's mouth like clockwork, a well-rehearsed tone that Satoru has heard so many times before. Used for formalities, always accompanied with a jarring, toothy smile. Fake as shit.

“The pleasure is mine, sir.”

Satoru can’t, and for the most part, doesn’t, stop himself from lifting his head the moment that soft voice fills his ears. His eyes automatically land on Suguru, who had his head bowed politely at his father, before straightening up again, a friendly smile on his face.

His face immediately contorts in distaste. Because what the hell’s up with those bangs? And also because he doesn’t know what else to do. He exhales a scoff through his nose and throws his head back again, silently hoping that no one noticed the way his face grew hot.

He didn’t want to look at him anyway. And he definitely did not, in any way, want to look at the way Suguru’s shoulders and chest complimented him so perfectly in that light button up, tucked in neatly under those deep blue pants-

ThE pLeASurE iS mine, SiR. He mocks in his head, interrupting those unwarranted thoughts. Pathetic. He was probably just like every other person who meets his father. None of them give a shit about how stingy or ruthless he is, just interested in the money and power that came from being connected to him.

Suguru didn’t know what to expect when he walked through the automatic sliding gate of the big, no, ginormous Gojo estate. He’s only ever seen places like these from the outside. The air inside was heavy with the smell of leather and rich mahogany, a far cry from the familiar scent of his own home.

It didn’t fit with him. He didn’t belong here.

He hadn't spoken a word to his parents since they told him the news, stuck in a state of shock and disbelief. His appetite had faded so much that he could hardly bring himself to eat. He spent the last two nights tossing and turning, his mind plagued by his own thoughts of what was going to happen.

Still, he thought, none of that was a good enough reason not to make himself look presentable. If there was one thing that Suguru couldn’t do, it was being rude enough to show up as a guest without attempting to look decent.

And now, Suguru's heart raced as he stood before Satoru's father, feeling as if the older man was staring directly into his soul. He tried to keep his emotions in check, leaving the smile on his face as he fought the urge to flee.

His eyes flicker briefly over the older man’s shoulder, falling onto the exposed throat of the man he was to marry, his head flopped back over the couch.

His gaze quickly returns back onto Satoru’s father when he realises that its rude not to focus his attention. He takes a deep breath, hoping that he doesn't seem too nervous as he clears his throat and tries to steady his voice.

“I apologise for being late.” He offers, stepping to the side to introduce his parents. “This is my father, and my mother.”

His parents step up, both giving a small, polite bow, introducing themselves as they did.

But Suguru can’t focus on the words, his curiosity distracting him from the conversation taking place in front of him. He leans slightly to the side, trying to get another peek at Satoru. He wonders what’s going on through his mind, but the sight of his expressionless face makes it hard to tell. But one thing was clear. Satoru wasn’t happy.

Suguru opted to furrow his eyebrows instead of rolling his eyes. Because of course the prodigal son wouldn’t be happy about marrying some no body whose family owns nothing but a farm. Suguru almost scoffed out loud. Used to own nothing but a farm. Now they had nothing.

Suguru was nothing. And compared to Satoru, he might as well cease to exist. No doubt, Satoru hated his guts, all because his parents were petty enough to sell him off.

If he were Satoru, he would’ve hated himself too.

“Please, don’t wait for an invitation.” Suguru looks back to Satoru’s father, who now had an arm wrapped around his wife’s waist beside him. When did she get there? The older man gestures towards the cream-coloured velvet couch. “Please take a seat.”

His parents don’t need to be told twice, quickly scampering towards the seat with small ‘thank you’.

“Satoru, you’re an adult, for Christ’s sake. Sit properly in front of our guests.”

Suguru watches in silence as Satoru's father scolds him, before his feet finally start moving. He makes his way to the opposite end of the couch Satoru was on. The white-haired man sighed, long and loud, before straightening his posture. He doesn’t even glance once in Suguru’s direction.

Suguru suddenly feels insulted. Sure, he gets it in a way, that this wasn’t Satoru’s choice and all, but he didn’t get much of a choice either. Did he think himself all high and mighty that much? And why the hell was he wearing sunglasses indoors?

Suguru swallows his pride. Breath in. Smile.

He doesn’t know why he was taking Satoru’s bullshit personally. It’s not like they were in this whole thing for love. The least he could do is tolerate. Maybe, he thinks, hopefully, he silently prays, you’re not going to be an asshole as much as Satoru. Then at least it will be easier for him.

“This way, please.” The voice of the butler who had just recently escorted him and his family, catches Suguru’s attention.

“Ah finally.” Satoru’s father sighs, clapping once and rubbing his palms together. “Our bride is here.”

You and your parents were the last to arrive at the Gojo estate. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to meet your ‘soon-to-be husbands’ or their parents. It doesn’t matter what your parents say, or how childish it is, you’re going to frown through this entire gathering.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Because your jaw dropped open in awe the moment you were let in through the gates.

The house, if you could even call it that, was big, huge in fact. So large that you imagine you could fit your entire home five times over, and still have room to spare. It wasn’t surprising, considering that the Gojo family was well known for their wealth.

By the double front doors, you were greeted by an old, but not that old looking man. Your eyes trail from his face down to his clothes, taking in the formal black suit and small bow, and you realise he must be the butler – they even had a butler.

He guides you in, leading you down the hall into a large room that looked a bit too formal to be called a living room, where you find yourself standing before a six-person audience. All heads turned to you.

After a quick scan of everyone’s faces, your eyes fall onto Satoru. He looks at you with hard, judging eyes, his expression impenetrable behind the sunglasses that cover them.

You can't help but notice the uncanny resemblance to his father - the imposing figure seated on the opposite couch - with his white hair and angular jawline. His full lips and sharp nose, on the other hand, seem to be a hallmark of his mother's features.

Your gaze then shifts to Suguru, who looks at you with a curious gaze. His striking beauty is almost otherworldly, with peaceful, cat-like eyes and a delicate jawline. A gentle masculinity softened so slightly by feminine features.

He's the type of gorgeous that you can't look away from, and you feel yourself drawn to him, almost instinctively.

Both of them, Satoru and Suguru weren’t the creepy old men you were dreading they’d be - thank God. And although they seemed like complete opposites, were equally handsome.

And just like that, the frown that has long since left your face, decides to make a re-entrance. Because what the hell? You were against this whole thing. You were forced into it, expected to go along with it like it's some kind of game. You can’t be thinking like that about the men who didn’t even choose you.

“Well? What are you waiting for, dear?” Satoru’s mother smiles too tightly, her tone way too sweet. “Come and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

No introduction where needed, because apparently your parents had already met the Gojo’s before during business. Like this is any different.

While there was plenty of free space, it almost seemed like she was being overly obvious for you to take the seat between Satoru and Suguru. So you do. But you make sure to leave a comfortable distance on either side. You suppress the urge to run your fingers over the velvet.

“Aren’t you all just so cute?” Satoru’s mother coos, pulling out her phone. A flash of white momentarily blinds you. “This is going to be perfect for my page.” She beams at her screen.

“Why don’t we all head over to the dining room?” Satoru’s father suddenly suggests. “Let’s give the kids some alone time to get to know each other.”

Your parents all voice their agreements, following Satoru’s mother as she leads them out of the main hall. But Satoru’s father stays behind. Something feels off. He doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, and you start to wonder if he is ever going to speak.

Satoru wanted nothing more than to throw his head into his hands. He knew that this was just the way his father was before starting one of his ‘I am too important for this world’ speeches.

“Listen closely.” Satoru’s father starts, his tone low and calm, yet there’s a hint of warning in it. It reminds you of how Vito Corleone talks in the Godfather, just without the Italian accent. “My family’s reputation,” Satoru lets out a groan at that, rolling his eyes dramatically as his father continued to talk. “And my reputation. They are very important to me.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit intimidated.

“I’m pretty sure they know that, dad.” Satoru grits out, huffing and turning his cheek to the side. “Who doesn’t?”

“Precisely.” His father arches one of his snow-white eyebrows. “Tomorrow is your wedding-”

“Pretty sure they know that too-” Satoru cuts in, earning himself a pointed glare, but he doesn’t give two shits. It kind of makes you feel a bit better, the way Satoru was being so nonchalant.

“And many important people will attend, including the Gojo family elders.” His father goes on. “You three, and I mean you two in particular,” He uses two fingers to points at you and Satoru, “would do well to know what you’re dealing with now. Fix those attitudes.”

A pang of irritation spikes up. Is he the one to talk about attitudes? Because you could list down a number of things he needs to fix. The first one being to find himself a therapist.

“I don’t want the elders talking badly about us. They are in charge of all our affairs and if they sense any problems, it won’t be good.” Satoru’s father huffs, throwing his hands in the air. “You look like you’re going to be attending a funeral rather than your own wedding!”

And just like that, Satoru snaps.

“Why do they care?!” His voice was loud and filled with venom. “Why the fuck, do they give so much shits about our lives?!”

“Because our family name is one of the most influential throughout all of Japan!” His father spits right back. “And I will NOT have you taint it!”

Your muscles were tense the entire time, heart caught up in your throat at the rising tension. Satoru doesn’t respond, and his father suddenly turns around, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself.

“I don’t care how much you hate it.” He says, calmly. It was as if the yelling that happened seconds ago never existed. He flashes a smile over his shoulder, that almost made you believe it was real. “Act like you want this. You understand?”

And with that, he leaves.

Your eyes dart over to Satoru. His hands were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. He was gritting his teeth, the gaze of his sunglasses planted firmly on a spot on the floor. You instantly felt a pang of sympathy at the unfair treatment he got. Did this happen to him all the time?

A part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But you also know that getting involved might only make the situation worse.

Satoru finally speaks, his voice sneering. "Listen, I'm telling you from now.” He says, “I don't care why you're here or what you want from my father and this family, but this” He gestures sharply towards the three of you. "Will never be anything more than an act. You won't stick your noses into my life, and I won't stick mine into yours. I don't care what you do, just leave me out of it."

Despite the harsh tone in those words, you felt a wave of relief wash over you for some reason. That didn’t sound all that bad. It hits you that maybe, just maybe you could do that. You can go through the motions without having to actually share any part of your life with them. Shoko and the girls might not need to crash the wedding after all…

“I don’t have any disagreements.” Suguru voiced out, lifting the remaining weight off your chest. No one was opposed to this.

“Me either.”

The person staring back at you in the mirror was… beautiful. You didn’t know you could even look like this.

The light grey wedding dress had a beautiful flowing skirt, draping down to the floor and swirling around your legs as you move. The delicate fabric is a perfect silhouette that falls on you, hugging your body at the waist where a white, silk obi belt is tied in a lovely bow. Several silver outlines of betta fish were adorned the belt, each one catching the light in just the right way.

“You look gorgeous, sweetie.” Came the hushed whisper of the maid doing the finishing touches.

I know, you wanted to say. But the words catch in your throat. It would probably sound rude, even though you could see yourself as clear as day. “Thank you.” You replied instead.

A light knock came from the door. And with it, the beating of your heart only grew louder.

It was time.

A young lady guided you down a wide hallway, fixing and adjusting the back of your dress as you walked, until you reached the opening of a large, opulent lobby, where your father was waiting for you.

He linked arms with you, smiling warmly at you. There was a look of affection filled in his gaze. “I remember the way I used to carry you on my shoulders like it was yesterday.” He whispered, stroking your cheek. “I can’t even carry you anymore.” Words that did nothing to suppress the loathing for him that started days ago.

You don’t say anything, just nodding and turning your head slightly to the side. You didn’t want to start crying, and you didn’t want to forgive him for this either. And with that, he walks you through the double doors.

The buzzing chatter that had filled every corner in the room, suddenly went silent, and all heads turned to you. The whole lobby was filled with large, round tables, every single chair occupied. You silently questioned if the Gojo family had invited the entire population of Japan here.

Your eyes finally settle directly ahead, and there, standing at the end of the aisle, you see them. Satoru and Suguru.

Satoru was wearing a pure, white kimono underneath a white haori jacket. His hakama pants were a baby blue. As for Suguru, he was dressing in the exact same outfit, except it was darker. His kimono and haori jacket were both black, while his pants were a dark grey.

As if their hair wasn’t already enough of a difference.

You’ve been to a couple of weddings before, you’ve seen the way the groom would look at the bride with a love only told from fairytales, or the way the bride can’t stop the smile from forming on her face. Both of them showing nothing but pure happiness.

Chin up. Smile. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting upwards, grinning as best as you could.

But, even with the way Satoru’s face was lit up with a grin that made his face look even more boyish than before, and even with Suguru’s eyes closed into upside down crescents. Anyone could believe it was real, but you knew. There wasn’t a single trace of real happiness on their faces.

You heart started to beat heavily in your ears. Focus on getting one foot in front of the other. Each time you took a step, it was in sync with the pounding in your chest.

Step.

All eyes were on you, wide and unblinking, you could see their mouths moving, sharing whispers. But you couldn’t hear anything. Only the inhale and exhale through your teeth, your eyes set on both the white fluffy hair, flowing freely, and the dark strands that were tied into a perfect bun.

You swallow thickly as a wave of nausea washes over you. Your stomach churned over itself, then over again like a tidal wave washing onto the beach. Sick. You were going to be sick.

You don’t even remember when your father had left your side, waving you in the middle of the two men. You keep your head straight ahead at the priest, unwilling to look at neither Satoru nor Suguru.

Something catches your eye. A small detail you couldn’t have noticed from afar. Satoru’s haori. It was embroidered with light blue outlines of betta fish. And Suguru’s too. All over it, outlined in a magnificent purple. Just like his eyes.

You wonder who chose this specific fish-

“Y/n?” The priest snapped you out of your thoughts.

You blink. Was it your turn already?

“Opps, sorry.” You let out a nervous chuckle, and straightened yourself. “With this ring and binding, I promise to be there for you both, day or night, in richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” You recited your practiced vow with a beaming smile, looking up at Suguru, then to Satoru.

You watch as Satoru reaches for the ring, a small smirk on his face as he takes your hand and slides the band onto your finger in a smooth and effortless motion. You felt a tingle at his touch, but you pushed it away as he released you.

Suguru follows, grabbing the ring and sliding it onto Satoru's finger, his smile bright and warm as he turns to you with a sense of excitement. He almost makes you feel like this whole exchange was natural.

You were next. You breathe in, your hand trembling ever so slightly as you reach out for the ring. Taking Suguru’s hand, you place the golden band on his finger, marking the official completion of the ceremony.

The audience bursts into a round of cheers and applause, filling your ears like distant echoes.

That’s it. It was done. You were now tied to them, and they to you.

chapter1, chapter2, chapter3, chapter4 (coming soon)

taglist: @keira80808

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vulpixisananimal · 1 day

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Defender

(A house for Defenders. Or a castle. Or maybe just a place. Regardless that's where they were now. You were leading the charge, as usual. Followed by Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and Nille. It was like that old routine, just follow Siffrin. It was... comforting? You weren't really sure.)

(The Defenders, as Isabeau had once told you, had a house of their own. All about protecting the weak and looking over the city and those in it. It looked welcoming, people coming in and out, bringing in snacks, running around, chatting. If you had time, you'd ask what was making the place so busy.)

(Why do I need to be the one in charge here?)

(I'm pretty tired, plus, you did good at guiding them before.)

(But-)

(You're their guiding star~)

(You groan internally. That was horrible.)

(You step into the Defender place. It looked grand and busy. It was built like a public place. So many smiling faces around, it would have made you relaxed.)

(You glance at your party. They all looked so tense.)

"Isabeau?!?"

(The stranger went right up to Isabeau like they were old friends.) "Isa!! It's been, what, almost a year??"

(Isabeau hesitated.) "... Yeah!! Sorry I was just surprised to uh, see you!"

"Care to introduce us, Isabeau?" (Odile and the others were coming around to meet the new face.)

"Oh!! Right!! This is uh, Ramos! We hung out a lot before I left." (Isabeau mentioned each of you all in turn.) "Odile, Bonnie, Nille, Mirabelle and Siffrin! We're all traveling together!"

"Good to see you again Mirabelle!" (They waved, all chipper and smiling.) "I'm glad that I can see you again, not that I doubted you or 'beau."

"O-oh! Uh, thank you!!" (Mirabelle replied. Maybe telling them all that something bad happened here wasn't a good idea.)

"Are you guys just coming to visit? Or ya need a hand?"

"Someone grabbed Bonnie in broad daylight at the market yesterday. (Odile said, voice steady. At least she could keep a straight face here.)

"What!?!" (Ramos scowled at that.) "In the middle of the busiest place in town! Dunno if that's gutsy or stupid."

"I'd say lucky, if I caught em I'd knock their teeth out!" (Nille continued.) "If it wasn't for Mirabelle I woulda lost em."

"Oh Change." (Ramos shook their head.) "Well tell ya what. There's a few people who can help with that, I'll lead you there! Plus I gotta catch up with my buddy."

(Joke time.)

"Oh, do you keep flowers?"

(Ramos turns to you.) "Flowers?"

"'Cause you have a budding friendship."

(There were a mix of groans and laughs from your family and Ramos. Who moved towards you and was about to put an arm around you.)

(But stopped.)

(. . ?)

"Hey let's get going! The sun isn't waiting for us after all." (Said ramos, turning to lead you all.)

(Ramos and Isabeau were leading the group, chatting and catching up. You were keeping step with them, glancing around the halls and rooms they passed. It all seemed so... Normal.)

(You glance back, Mirabelle was biting her nails (stopping as you give her a look) Odile looked calm and analytical as always, Nille and Bonnie were chatting. Bonnie sniffed the air.)

"Do you keep plants here?"

"Huh? This isn't another joke, is it?" (Ramos replied.)

"Wait! Wasn't there that guy who was keeping roses? It could be that! What was his name..." (Isabeau pondered.)

(... Wait.)

"What's it smell like?" (You ask)

"Huh?" (Bonnie glanced up at you.) "Oh, mint. A neighbor used to have it all over their garden, I'd smell it all the time."

"Oh no!" (Mira exclaimed.) "Mint is so hard to remove, a friend of mine at the House tried using Craft to get rid of it but that didn't even work!"

"Those poor roses..." (Ramos mused.) "He has been stressed lately, maybe that's why."

"Oh!! Maybe I could try, helping with that then?"

"Sure!" (Ramos walked over to Mirabelle and put a hand on her shoulder, and pointed down a hall.) "Should be down there, not hard to miss."

"I'm coming too!!!" (Bonnie ran after Mirabelle, Nille following right behind yelling at them to slow down.)

(Your hand twitches, about to protest but... They were already off, Isabeau catches your look, and smiles at you as if to say "they'll be okay." You hope so.)

"Not far now." (Ramos continued.) "Sorry this place can be a maze."

"I'm used to mazes." (You reply. Odile snorts at that.)

"Has Jouvente had a history of kidnappers?" (Odile asks.)

"Nope! It's supposed to be real safe here." (Another turn.) "Dunno why someone would try to grab a kid."

"Hmm." (You knew that look. If Odile had THAT look then something was up.)

(Another turn.)

"Oh don't worry M'dame, Ramos has always been able to help!" (Isabeau looked back and smiled at you.) "They helped me a lot with my defenders exams! It was a real struggle."

(... What?)

(Another turn.)

"Are the Defender exams particularly tough?" (Odile asked, ever curious.)

"Oh yeah!! But thanks to Ramos I didn't break a sweat-"

(You stop walking.)

(How many loops had you and Siffrin talked to him? How many lines of his has you memorized. You probably knew his history better than he did.)

(Then why was he getting it wrong?)

"You never mentioned Ramos before, Isabeau."

(He tilted his head.) "I haven't?"

(No. You haven't. Over hundreds of loops, of hundreds of variations. You never once heard that name. But you knew Isabeau asked a favor tree to ace his exams. You knew he studied. You knew he found it easy and didn't need help.)

(What's that smell?)

"You have not, no." (Odile adds.) "And I must ask, if Jouvente is safe, how'd you get that bandage, Ramos?"

(You look at the Defender. You knew their look too.)

(Fear. Fear about a flubbed line. Fear about a slipping mask.)

"Siffrin! M'dame! Please there's no need for any of that-"

(Odile pushes past Isabeau and grabs Ramos' arm.) "What's going on? I don't want to hurt you, Ramos, but someone tried hurting Bonnie."

(What. That. SMELL.)

"M-miss Odile please! I just want to figure this out and, and I want to help!"

(She looks at him for a moment, then stumbles back.)

(Ramos continued.) "If you'd just, just help me out here I'm sure we can-"

"Siffrin?" (Odile glances at you. Her face, it's, she looks panicked. Confused.)

(You look between her, Isabeau, and Ramos. What was going on? What was that smell? What weren't they telling you? Odile put a hand to her head. Isabeau took a step to her to help.)

(You could see Ramos trying to get back into character.)

(. . . Time to play your own role then. You draw your dagger.)

"!!!!!"

(You take a step towards Ramos and speak.) "Tell me the truth."

"I, I-I am I promise I am! I don't know why I'd ever lie to you!"

(Step.) "Liar liar pants a'fire~"

"Siffrin they're, I don't think they're a threat." (Odile mumbled.)

"They're my friend Sif!! Leave them alone!!!" (Isabeau added.)

(Step.)

"I don't want to fight you, but, but I will! I will defend myself!!"

(Step.) "I don't want to hurt you either, Ramos~" (You twirl your knife.) "But I don't know if I can hold myself back~"

(Loop, you're scary.)

"Siffrin?!?!" (Isabeau stood up and stepped towards you.) "What's gotten into you?!?"

(Running out of time.)

(You breathe in, and out. Dash towards Ramos and swipe at their kerchief.)

(. . . You were right.)

"Siffrin! That's enough!" (Isabeau got between you and Ramos, but the star pendant was there for all to see. Why was Isabeau being so strange! Couldn't he see that's who grabbed Bonnie?!?)

"That's enough?!? 'Beau please, you can see they're wearing that blinding pendant!" (You were loosing patience.)

"That's just fashion! How do you know it's connected to anything!"

"It's not just fashion!" (You were yelling.) "It's a star! And it-"

"Stop making excuses!! You're just being selfish!"

(. . . Selfish?)

"You've been nothing but rude to me and my friends! You always have been!"

(What. No that, that's not-)

(Something's wrong, this isn't right!)

"I should never have trusted you."

(You feel a tug-)

(. . .)

(He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it.)

(He. Didn't. Mean. It.)

(. . . He didn't. . .)

(. . . Please. . .)

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piaduarte · 9 hours

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Q & A

persisting, the 4D and letting go

Not so long ago I became stuck in a loop of wanting and waiting. Weeks passed by like minutes, and I was desperate to "get" what I "wanted"-- real desperate, I tell you. But one way or another, loops end. They do. Even if it doesn't seem like it in the moment, they always pass, and your higher self shines through. These are a couple of questions I had while at my lowest, and my answer to them now. Hope this post may be useful to someone!!

"How do I persist even if I don't see anything?"

"You just persist" is what I've been told time and time again. "Yeah, but how?" is what I shot back. And silence followed. Paraphrasing, there's this quote by Einstein I've seen around here saying that, it's when you sit with yourself in the silence you're so desperate to fill up, when you stop looking for answers, that's when you get them. It doesn't matter how many times people here tell you to persist (to decide, to know it's yours) if, when you close the app, you forget everything and go right back to the old story. Why keep entretaining a story that you don't like? It's like if you're watching a really bad movie -- you can just turn it off.

You are able to persist. It's not something supernatural that only a handful of people can do. Everyone persist in something. You are persisting in the old story, for example. "B-But... Why??? Why is my subconscious doing this to me? I want to change!! I do!". This is so silly. Why are you mad at your subconscious? There's no 'bad' or 'good' (or 'ugly') story, that's just something you add the meaning to later. Your subconscious doesn't know the difference.

In the end, it all comes down to choosing. Just one final choice (do I even need to tell you that you're the creator of all? You must know by now). When you choose -- when you accept that you have it in the 4D once you imagine it, that's who you are. And once you've chosen, you cannot just give it up. You don't need proof in the 3D when the 4D is the only reality that should matter right now. Accept that you have it and move on. Creation is finished.

"And how do I convince myself it's set in stone?"

Close your eyes right now and imagine whatever it is that you "want". You can see it. You've just experienced it within, you can't deny that. That being said, you now know creation is finished. It's done. Done. Done. Done.

The 4D is the only true reality. It's the blueprint, nothing would exist in your 3D if it wasn't for it, your old assumptions, thoughts and ideas. For you. All you need and want already exists within you. Your desires are not separate from you, so you can experience them within; your mind is not separate from you, so you can change your old patterns; your 3D is not separate from you, so you can control it! You are the 3D and the 4D, just -- different, in another form.

The 3D is not real; it is a reflection of your mind! It may feel real, look real... But just because you see from it, not beyond it; the body is experiencing the 3D, but it's when you start to look at it from the 4D that you can understand that and take it in. All you need is the 4D. And, within, you've already experienced your desire, and you don't need anything else in order to experience materialization. It is set in stone if you decide it is -- so choose.

"I want to experience 'x' now. What do I do everyday in order to get it?"

No. There's no "getting". There's no "in order to". There's no "want". From the moment you get involved in the imaginal act, creation is finished, and 'x' is already experienced. Therefore, it's done. If you're not focusing on the end, but rather on the "I want", you're in a state of lack. Shift your state. Why not? It's not hard; you're in a state now. But I get it. You want the -- 'real' experience in the 3D? You want everyone on here to stop talking in riddles and tell you what to do, because random people on the internet have more power over you than... you? Aren't you tired of chasing? Of trying? Maybe not -- enough.

But seriously, if you "want" "it" "now", persist in the knowing and go to sleep. Tell yourself it's done and it's done. Persist in the old story and that's what you "get". Persisit in the new one, and your reality shifts. After all, "nothing changes if nothing changes". Don't allow any other thought to distract you from the end. Just -- don't. Thoughts come and go, and doubts will come as well; observe them and let them go. The end will materialize in the 3D because it has already materialized in the 4D. The inner man is your true you, so be him. Be unbothered by the neutral 3D and focus on living as the inner man.

"Is this fail-proof? How do I know I'm not just wishing my life away?"

It's real if you assume it is! Now get off this app and do something! Because, who's going to do it for you? Be the inner man and continue being! It will happen! Trust yourself. Trust. Why not?

#manifesting #loa #manifesation #law of assumption #how to manifest #law of manifestation #master manifestor #law of attraction #desired life #dream life #affirm and persist #edward art #neville goddard #affirmyourreality

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kiwiana-writes · 1 day

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @cha-melodius and @stereopticons for the tags! I know I’ve done this in the past, but it’s been a hot minute…

How many works do you have on ao3?

239!

What's your total ao3 word count?

822,937—but that’s a collaboration-boosted lie. Per my writing tracker, words that I have personally written and published on AO3 is 693,613

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly RWRB these days, but the majority of my back catalogue is Schitt’s Creek, with a few others sprinkled in for fun. The Pairing definitely made my brain whirr… we’ll see.

Top five fics by kudos:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), RWRB, 65.5k, the Much Ado About Nothing stage actor AU

Kinda think that I might be his type, RWRB, 12.8k, Alex and Bea fake date and Alex gets a little distracted by Bea’s brother

We were supposed to find this, RWRB, 3.3k, soulmate AU

We always walked a very thin line, Happiest Season, 2.7k, Riley character study/alternate ending

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, RWRB, 5.8k, barista Henry repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth in front of his coworker crush

(This is how I learned Puck It has been knocked out of my top five 😭)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! And absent a Schitt’s Creek resurgence of some kind that sees me absolutely inundated I don’t see that changing.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Five ways it could have ended (and one way it still could), Schitt’s Creek, 1.2k, for the love of god read the tags

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like… most of them? I love to end on a good HEA haha. For sheer joy, though, it’s probably With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

Do you get hate on fics?

From time to time. I’m very free with the delete button. Weirdly, it occasionally pops up in the AO3 comments but mostly seems to come to me via anons on tumblr??? I have no idea why.

Do you write smut?

It’s been known to happen, I guess 👀

Craziest crossover:

I haven’t written any AO3-era crossovers! A few fusions/media AUs, but no crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I’ve only been asked once, and they wanted to post off AO3 which is a big heck nope for me (and my permissions statement has now been updated to reflect that)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Heck yeah I have. I’ve done several anthology-type collaborations where we each wrote a chapter in a fic, and I’ve fully cowritten fics with @ships-to-sail several times. We have another collab coming up for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and I’m also cowriting The Big Secret AU with @indestructibleheart which is essentially us one-upping each other on emotionally devastating ideas until someone writes them down. Good system 😂

All time favorite ship?

Stop making pansexuals choose things.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the chances of kinktober 2021 being finished at this point are slim 😂

Schitt’s Creek kinkverse… I don’t know. I have little snippets written of future fics and they’re great but… idk. Maybe I’ll write one vignette-y wrap up fic one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Narrative POV, dialogue that feels like the characters, epistolary bullshit, smut apparently.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Coming up with actual plot lmao. Visual descriptors — I’m not even remotely a visual person so I really really struggle with writing the sorts of things people can visualise. Also like… the passage of time? A scam.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I’ll shoulder tap a fluent speaker if I need an actual sentence/anything Google isn’t super reliable for. Forever heartbroken that there are no fics in my second language in AO3 and no reason for me to be able to sprinkle it into my own writing (though one of the subscriber shindig prompts might be about to change that 👀)

First fandom you wrote in?

Favorite fic you've written?

Stop! Asking! Pansexuals! To! Choose! Things!

I don’t know there are 239 of the bloody things 😂 I’m far more interested in what other people’s favourites are than what my own is!

I have no sense of who’s done this already so apologies if this is a double up but tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise @getmehighonmagic

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @nontoxic-writes

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play!

#20 questions for fic writers #kiwiana-writes

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