#45 Degree Elbow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 3 months ago

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I love the mail order bride !! Can we see her trying to get a job or school something and Simon getting offending thinking he doesn’t have enough to support her ??

mail-order bride

he would not be offended if you wanted to do something for yourself; but he would be offended if you felt you were required to.

you pick up your blazer out of the closet, fitting it over your shoulders and buttoning it. you check your hair and your makeup one more time in the mirror before making your way into the living room, where simon still is, tools laid out at his feet as he uses a level and a pencil on the wall.

you clear your throat, knocking on the doorway gently.

"s-simon?" you ask gently. he grunts in response, marking a place on the wall, and you shuffle on your feet as you try to calm your stuttering breath. "i...can i ask for a favor?"

"can ask me for anythin'."

you purse your lips, "uhm...i need a ride."

"where ya wanna go?"

you play with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels. he's still facing the wall, dark sleeves rolled up as he lifts a wooden block to the wall and starts to mount it there. he's putting up floating shelves you think, but the block of wood is very short in length. odd.

"i...have a job interview," you say softly. "it's in a half an hour. i...have to leave now to be on time. i'm..." you close your eyes, flinching. "i'm sorry, they only just called me, i-i should've given you more time--"

"why are you apologizin'?" he asks, setting his things down. he turns around to face you, and you open your eyes again, biting your lip. he comes closer, making you look up at him, and he narrows his eyes at you. "just said they only just called ya. so 's not y'r fault."

you open your mouth to say something, but he just brushes past you to head towards the door, grabbing his rain jacket and slipping it on. he flips the hood up over him after he shrugs his balaclava on, and he meets your eyes where you stand there oogling at him.

"well?" he raises a brow. "get y'r shoes on."

you scramble to go slip your boots on, picking up your purse by the door. simon opens the front door, revealing the misty rainy weather that's emerged since the morning. simon opens up an umbrella, making his way down the steps, and you follow him. he stops you before you come down, holding his hand out, and when he gets to the bottom of the steps, he holds his hand out for you.

you take his hand gently and let him guide you down the steps, and you're startled when he appears at the passenger side door of his truck. he holds the umbrella over you, opening the door for you, and he holds your hand again as you get settled before he shuts it behind you.

the drive is quiet. the rain falls hard, but simon is unbothered. you clutch the seatbelt a little bit as he drives--you don't want to be ungrateful, but simon sometimes makes a turn too sharp and brakes a little too hard. he sometimes has a hard time staying in his lane, too, but you just squeak and try not to be too loud when he swerves into a parking space crooked at a 45-degree angle.

simon opens the door for you, holding the umbrella and taking your hand again to help you onto the pavement. he walks you to the door, humming lowly, and he tilts his head to the side as you open the door.

"'ow long will y'be?" he asks, and you shrug.

"i-i don't know. maybe an hour?"

simon huffs a little, "olright. y'call me when y'r done."

you nod, about to go in, and he stops you again, big hand on your elbow.

"just..." he sighs deeply, looking anywhere but into your eyes. "good luck."

simon doesn't leave. he sits in his truck in the parking lot, eyes narrowed at the door of the building you just went inside of. his leg bounces underneath him, and he doesn't turn the car on for the heater because the bite of the cold, rainy weather keeps him awake and alert.

it's been over an hour. his phone sits on the dashboard, silent. he's not a patient man, never has been. his patience certainly has been tested with that fucking gremlin you insist on keeping around, the pocket of fur that drinks out of his water glass when he isn't looking and must nibble on his herbs in the kitchen (he can't prove it, but there's teeth mark tears in the basil leaves, the little shit). but this is somehow worse. he doesn't know why you want to get a job. he's been thinking about it while you've been gone.

maybe he hasn't made you feel secure enough. maybe you still feel like a stranger in your own house. maybe you still don't trust him yet, so you're too afraid to ask him for anything.

his phone starts to ring. he picks it up immediately, putting it to his ear.

"'ello?"

"s-simon?" it's you, of course, soft voice a little shaky. "i-i'm...can you pick me up now?"

"'m outside. i'll come get ya."

he practically rips open the door, and you're already standing there, coming out. he stops you before you start walking, making sure you're underneath the umbrella before you start to walk again. you keep your head down, and he doesn't even get a glimpse of you as he opens the door for you again and helps you up and into your seat.

as he pulls back onto the road, he barely hears the sound of your tears over the rumble of the engine. he looks over at you, frowning when he sees your hands covering your face and your shoulders shaking lightly.

he growls under his breath, not even turning on his blinker as he pulls over onto the side of the road. there's a honk sounding as other cars pass, but simon just turns to face you.

"oi, why are y'cryin'?" he asks firmly. you don't respond. you keep your face hidden, your body turned away, and simon huffs.

"oi!" he startles you with his loud voice, and your hands fall into your lap. "wot the fuck happened?"

"i didn't get t-the job," you hiccup. "i-it went...it was h-horrible. he hated my...m-my resume. the questions...i-i took too long t-to answer them, and i-i could tell...i could t-tell he h-hated me--"

"so you didn't get the bloody job," simon shrugs. "come off it. there'll be others."

"i-i don't even wanna do this!" you cry, wiping your face. your mascara is running, and simon sighs, frustrated.

"then why are you?"

"i...i-i--"

"look at me," he tells you, and your eyes meet his finally. your face is puffed and messy, wet streaks along your cheeks and eyeliner smudged along your eyes. "y'can do woteva y'want. anythin'. 'f you want t'stay home, then ya stay home. 'f y'wanna go t'work, then y'go to work." he reaches over and grips your face in one big hand, cupping your jaw and forcing you to lean closer to him. you can feel his breaths through the mask, warm and anxious. "don't worry about me. now tell me y'understand."

your lip wobbles, but you nod anyways.

"i-i understand."

your eyes close when you both lean in closer, and the mouth of his mask brushes against yours. you stay that way for a few long moments, lips brushing together, and when he pulls away to get back on the road, you notice his hand has fallen to rest on your thigh.

you put your hand over his gently, and by the time he pulls into the garage, your tears have dried, and your anxiety has dissolved.

when you emerge from your warm shower, there's an envelope by your purse. simon is in the kitchen, busying himself with dinner, and you pick up the envelope and rip it open. when you unravel the paper, there's a new credit card taped to it, with your name on it.

there's movement out of the corner of your eye, and when you look up, you realize simon had finished putting the little shelves up on the wall.

you can't hold back your smile, watching as the cat jumps from one shelf to the other. the cat follows the ascending and descending blocks of wood, all the way around the room until they curl up on their favorite spot on the couch, right inside the throw blanket that has been curled into a neat ball just for them.

you slip the credit card into your purse. when you pass by simon in the kitchen, you put a hand around his bicep and coax him to bend low, giving his cheek a kiss.

does he know he's not wearing his mask anymore?

his ears get red when he blushes.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon thoughts #order up

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thechhajed · 1 year ago

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uniquexusposts · 1 month ago

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A one-day friend - O. Piastri

Summary: Y/n and Oscar sit next to each other on a flight and get to know each other. Note: I know Oscar probably flies business or first class, but for the story he doesn't.

A small smile curved on Y/n her mouth when she looked out of the airplane window. She was leaving Europa behind. After a month of travelling through Germany, France, Switzerland and Italy, it was time to go home. Y/n was glad she finally could go home, but this trip made her realise how much she wanted to move to Europe, being free and away from home.

It was sunny outside, there were no clouds. Usually, Y/n flew on the worse times: in the night and in the bad weather. This was one of the first times she was able to have a look at the tiny countries. While looking at the view she got, her mind stopped working - in the right way. She finally cleared her mind. There was nothing she was thinking of. It was like meditating.

The entertainment system of the airplane was insanely good. There were a lot of films Y/n was planning on seeing but didn't have the chance to because...reasons. She was glad she had the time and was being able to watch the films now.

When the first film came to an end, Y/n planned on catching up with work. Her fingers touched the touch screen to look up the flight details. She tightened her jaw when her airplane neighbour was touching her arm. I get it, we don't have much space, but you are in my aura right now. Before she knew it, the head of her neighbour was softly falling on her shoulder. Y/n gently moved her head to see what exactly was going on. The man was asleep. Great. She closed her eyes and sighed, annoyed.

There was an option to wake him up, but Y/n didn't want to. Maybe something was going on with him, and perhaps this was the first moment he could sleep? Or maybe he had anxiety? Or he just broke up? Or he was just tired? Y/n opened her eyes and looked at the screen again. She was being kind and let him sleep. Four more hours to go and a fantastic entertainment system. The option work wasn't an option anymore.

"Good evening, this is your captain speaking. In less than 20 minutes we will be arriving at Dubai International Airport. It is currently 21:45 and 30º degree celsius. On behalf of Emirates and the crew, thank you for flying Emirates, and hopefully, we will see you soon again," the captain spoke after a few hours.

Y/n stretched her legs and breathed deeply but gently in. The man was still sleeping with his head on her shoulder. It gave her two thoughts: he was a stranger, this was odd, and it wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. The cabin crew were walking through the plane to get all the garbage and inform the people to straighten their seats. The friendly steward asked if Y/n could wake up her partner. What partner?

She did what she was being asked and nudged the side of the man with her elbow. The man looked up, and his eyes widened. "We are about to land," she awkwardly smiled and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Oh," he mumbled and looked confused around. "Thank you. And I'm sorry," he apologised. "Have I been asleep for the whole flight?"

"Yup."

"I'm sorry," the man said again.

Y/n looked at him. "It's alright," she told him. The look in her eyes was warm and friendly. The man felt sorry he might have made her flight uncomfortable. "They...erm...gave me the snacks. So..." She gave the man the two cups of water and some crackers.

"Right, thanks."

Maybe the best part of this flight was for the man, he was the one who got his sleep. Y/n, on the other hand... Sitting at the window seat is fantastic because you can look outside, but when having strangers next to you who are asleep...not ideal. Especially when you need to go to the bathroom. For those six hours, it was slightly subtle. But for the next flight, it would be hell. Why am I so helpful to people?

The plane landed safely and smoothly at Dubai International Airport. It was already dark and warm, but that didn't matter to Y/n. She needed to go to her transfer flight on the other side of the massive airport. There were two hours left to the next departure. Y/n was glad she could finally walk and stretch her legs properly. It was late in the evening, so there weren't many people around the airport anymore. She didn't mind, within 30 min she was at the right gate. It gave her the time to look around at the duty-free stores. It was the same as the airports in Europe, so there weren't many new things to see.

Even though it wasn't new, Y/n found a manner to almost miss her flight. And you know when you are a national embarrassment when they have you call your name through the speakers of the airport. But she wasn't the only one, more people were invited. Y/n made her way to the gate and showed her ticket.

"You are right on time, Miss Y/l/n," the Qantas Airline employee said.

Y/n politely smiled and walked towards the airplane. Fourteen more hours to and we are reaching the next destination: Melbourne. She ran her hand through her hair and stepped into the aircraft. The friendly crew welcomed Y/n and guided her to her seat.

"Thanks," Y/n thanked the woman and smiled.

Window seat, again.

She looked at the people who were sitting next to her. A woman and a man, but one of them was the man who slept next to her on the flight to Dubai. Her eyes widened, and she parted her lips. They both stood up to let Y/n take place on her own seat.

"Well, this is awkward," the man said and looked at Y/n. Y/n fastened her seatbelt and made herself comfortable for how comfortable an economy seat could be. "Next time, just wake me up."

What are the coincidences this is actually happening?

"I will," Y/n shortly said.

"I'm Oscar," the man introduced himself and stuck out his hand.

"Y/n." She grabbed his hand and softly squeezed in it.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n."

He was polite. "Nice to meet you too, Oscar."

"This is actually the first time I have seen this film," Oscar said when 'Bohemian Rhapsody' ended.

Y/n raised her eyebrows and looked surprised at him. "You serious?" Oscar slowly nodded. "You seriously have something missed during those years. I'm glad I made you watch it."

The fourteen-hour flight was surprisingly good and fun. Oscar was a kind man, after all. They talked a bit and watched a few films together. Y/n wasn't able to sleep, she couldn't sleep on the plane, and Oscar already had his sleep from the previous flight.

Oscar smirked. "You got me," he said and stretched his arms above his head. "Four more hours to go." Y/n took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm going for a walk. Maybe you should go too."

He was right; having a walk through the plane - it probably wasn't more than 150 metres if you walked to the back of the plane and back, but it was a walk to stretch the legs on this long flight. Oscar asked the unknown woman, who was sitting on his other side if she could stand up. Oscar and Y/n got up and walked to the back of the plane.

"This is just so awkward," Y/n said. "All those people who are looking at you, yikes."

Oscar smirked and looked behind him at Y/n. "You must do something for it, Y/n."

When they arrived at the back of the plane, Y/n had no idea what she saw. There was a small bar, there were bowls filled with fruit and biscuits. She looked at Oscar, and a happy smile grew on her lips.

"See, the back of the planes are the best. Not many people know this, but this is for us, the economy section. This is another reason why you should go for a walk in the plan: drinks and food," he told her and grabbed an apple and a biscuit.

"Wow, what an invention. Brilliant," Y/n spoke and grabbed an apple as well. It felt good to walk around. Sitting on an airplane seat for several hours was awful; the little space, the many people in your aura and not being able to stretch your legs as you want to. "I will keep this in my mind. I seriously had no idea this actually was on a plane."

"Perks of a frequent flyer," he winked.

"I am too," she smirked. "But I had no idea."

"Oh."

The last four hours went by, and they landed safely on the Australian ground again. Y/n was glad she wasn't alone after all. Flying with someone on your side is a lot better than flying alone. They had talked a lot about regular stuff, like politics, the news and that kind of stuff. They left the plane and walked both towards the exit of the airport.

Y/n read the signs on the board and looked around. "I have to go to my next flight," she mentioned Oscar and stopped walking. His smile softened and looked disappointed at her. It was almost sad to see him like that like he hoped Y/n would go to Melbourne as well. "So..."

"Where do you have to go?" He asked curiously.

"Sydney," she answered and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Thanks for the great company, it absolutely made it all better," she smiled.

He nodded and gave her a small smile, he surely was disappointed to leave her behind. "Give me your phone." He had to deal with this situation quickly, as the intercom called for the flight was about to board to Sydney. Y/n squeezed her eyebrows together and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. "I really enjoyed this flight, I wish every flight was just as joyful as this one. Text me when you are home, okay?"

Is this his smooth way for asking my number? To keep in touch with me? "I will."

Y/n put her phone back in her pocket and gave him a warm but exhausted smile. An hour and thirty more hours to go, and she was home. People from their flight passed them, some were annoyed, some were happy to arrive at their home base.

"I really have to go," she said and slowly walked away. "Thanks again!"

Oscar parted his lips and knew he needed to say something. "You can 'accidentally' miss your flight so I can take you out on a coffee!"

Y/n looked at him and lowered her eyebrows while a cheeky smile curved on her lips. "Safe trip home, Oscar," she chuckled.

"It was worth a shot," Oscar said loudly and pointed at her. It made her laugh. "Have a good flight, Y/n!" He showed one of his best smiles and winked.

Y/n bit her lip and turned around while she walked away. A small smile played on her lips. It was just a friend on the plane. Sometimes you have friends for a short time because you are in the same situation. This is a situation like that. But this oddly felt more than just a friend.

No Y/n, just a one day-friend, great company on the flight, maybe a little bit too much coincidence, but a one day-friend.

Her eyes fell on the dark airport. There were lights of a landing plane, the runway and...and the ugly self-reflection of herself in the windows. A sigh left her mouth, and she went to the gate of her last flight.

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joelswritingmistress · 3 months ago

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Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

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ghost-of-a-dream-girl · 4 months ago

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Vampiric vascular access PSA from your friendly neighbourhood fanfic writing medic: Where To Bite

For those of you who, like me, love to write/read this sad vampire (or indeed anyone who likes to write any vampire), there were just a couple of sexy little anatomy things that I wanted to highlight (purely for fun).

First: arteries vs veins - Arteries take blood at pressure generated by the left ventricle of the heart, hence the pulse, to tissues and organs. Veins are a low pressure system that take blood back to the heart (via all sorts of mechanisms like valves, suction pressure from inspiration, pressure gradients, etc). - The inherent not-quite-sexy risk to puncturing/bleeding from an artery (especially a big one) is the risk of clot formation and with that the risk that those clots travel (embolize) further down the artery. This can result in things like strokes or ischaemic limbs. - Major arteries have associated major veins running nearby them. - Because of pressure differences, arterial punctures can spurt blood out, whereas veins ooze. To drink from a vein you'd have to apply a little more suction, whereas drinking from an artery might be a bit more messy/squirty. - Sure, veins don't pulse in the way arteries do BUT the way that we find these big veins (without ultrasound) is via use of anatomical landmarks. Your fave vampire will likely know those landmarks. Durge will likely also know these landmarks...for other reasons.

The neck (the classic, and everyone's favourite) - One of the things we look for as part of a fluid status assessment/CVS exam is the JVP (jugular venous pressure), which reflects pressure changes in the right atrium. For this we look for the double waveform pulse on either side of the neck coming from the internal jugular vein. It's not really palpable in the way arterial pulses are, but it is visible in most people (especially at neck turned 45 degrees). - The internal jugular vein (IJV) AND the external jugular vein are the two chunky veins of the neck. The IJV in particular would be a good one to bite for the same reason it's often a favourite vein to use for central line insertion- it's large, superficial, and usually pretty straight in its course within the neck. - The carotids are the major arteries of the neck, sitting more in the midline and protected a bit by a muscle there (sternocleidomastoid).

The inner thigh (the smut writer's favourite) - Gods know that the femorals have been doing some heavy lifting in vampire smut fics. Given the fact that they are located on either side of the groin, any biting action there has the inference of a lot more physical intimacy. - Like the neck vessels, you have big arteries AND big veins in the femoral region too. You have the femoral arteries which lie again more in the centre (like the carotids), and you have the femoral veins which actually lie more medially (more towards the mid-line of the body, i.e further in on the groin). These then branch out. - For purposes of vampiric vascular access, the femoral veins would be just a bit easier to get into position wise, but they do run very close to the femoral arteries. Because of how anatomy and fat distribution works also worth mentioning that the femoral vein and artery also lie a little deeper, so would require a much deeper bite.

Peripheral pulses (for those little nibbles) - For a quick snack more peripherally, it's going to be much easier to chomp into a peripheral artery. Arteries have thicker, more muscular walls than veins and the more superficial veins get the flimsier they are (i.e would be bitches to try to puncture with fangs). - We often sample arterial blood by puncturing the radial arteries. The radial artery runs on the thumb side of the wrist, and is very easy to palpate! - One could also attempt the brachial arteries, which are just above the inside of either elbow. A little deeper, but still palpable. - For the more adventurous bloodsuckers, you could even go for the dorsalis pedis (top of the foot), or the posterior tibial (below and behind the innermost part of the ankle bone)! See below: Astarion sampling a little of that radial artery juice

Aftercare (for the bitten) - If you are biting an artery or big vein you will usually need to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. - In terms of clotting, it depends on what magical properties you believe vampire spit has. If none, it generally takes a few minutes to stop bleeding with a bit of added pressure, but bigger puncture sites may take longer. - That said, all bleeding stops eventually in one way or another- just ask Durge. - Like always, after a big drink you may need to ask your cleric friend to help you out with a cheeky lesser restoration spell to stimulate erythropoeisis so you're not wandering around the Realms so deeply anaemic.

Happy biting, friends!

#just for fun #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 fanart #dnd #astarion ancunin #bg3 durge #baldurs gate 3 #a little sunday anatomy

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heich0e · 1 year ago

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“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels.

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly.

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again.

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances.

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road.

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye.

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself.

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them.

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #tw alcohol #tw smoking #tw parenthood

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dirtyvulture · 1 year ago

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Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha calls you to her office for a performance evaluation.

Word count: 1414

AN: I’ve had this idea forever, but it wasn’t until I got some military requests (which I kind of tried to incorporate) that I finally sat down to write this. Enjoy!

Reader has a penis. No pronouns used.

"I want to see you in my office after briefing, Sergeant,” your superior, Natasha Romanoff, says to you when you pass her in the hallway.

“Yes, ma’am.” You dip your head in respect, not pausing in your rapid pace to get to your next location. You don’t think anything of her request, feeling your performance in your new role has gone smoothly so far. But you also knew that Romanoff had very high standards, and was one of the few who had been against your promotion initially.

You attend your meeting without issue, getting up and almost heading to the chow hall with your comrades, when you remember you’re supposed to see Staff Sergeant Romanoff first. You make a quick U-turn and head back to her office, knocking forcefully and announcing yourself.

“Sergeant Romanoff? It’s Sergeant Y/N like you requested.”

“Come in and close the door.”

You heed her instruction, finding her lounging behind her desk. She’s not in her uniform, making you feel strangely out of place and like you shouldn’t be seeing her like this. Instead, she’s wearing the standard issued workout shirt, with her last name stamped across her left breast.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” you ask, standing at attention and staring at the wall behind her.

“At ease,” she says, and you shift your legs into a shoulder-wide stance, holding your hands behind your back. But you still don’t make eye contact with her.

“So tell me, Sergeant, how is training with the new recruits going?” Natasha asks.

“Very well,” you answer.

“You think so?” Natasha leans forward and taps her perfectly-manicured nails along the wood of her desk.

“Uh,” you hesitate, not sure what her intentions are now. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“Because that’s not what I heard from Captain Rogers.”

You press your lips into a flat line, trying to hide your grimace. Captain Steve Rogers had been your other long-time adversary, and the other person alongside Romanoff who had opposed your promotion. You still weren’t sure why he was so hostile with you, perhaps he was jealous of your skills, or the fact that Romanoff gave you much more of her attention than him.

“Captain Rogers said three of your recruits failed their most recent written exam,” Romanoff goes on.

“A lot of recruits fail the written exams,” you defend. “So, I’m personally working with them to make sure they pass their retake--”

“Your fail rate needs to be zero, Sergeant Y/N,” Romanoff says through her teeth.

“That’s not completely in my control, ma’am--”

“Are you making excuses for your poor display of leadership?” Romanoff snaps.

“I, no--that’s not it at all--”

“Atten-SHUN!” she barks suddenly and you scramble to snap your arms to your sides and your legs together. “Half-right, face!” You barely have time to process her demand before she’s yelling out another one. You turn your feet at a 45-degree angle to the right, facing the corner of her office now. “Front leaning rest position. MOVE!”

It’s almost humiliating to be asked of such a request at your rank, but you know better than to argue. You drop to the floor into a pushup position, keeping your back perfectly straight, your arms almost locked out to hold yourself up.

“Down!” she commands, and you bend your elbows until your chest almost touches the floor. “Up!”

“One, Sergeant Romanoff!” you respond, pushing yourself back into the resting position.

“Down. Up!”

“Two, Sergeant Romanoff!”

She keeps you going at a steady pace and you hardly notice her get up from behind her desk and stand next to her, her shadow casting over your body. By the 30th pushup, you feel the slight burn in your chest and arms, but you know you have the stamina to go well into the hundreds without faltering. However, you also know that Romanoff is one of the most notoriously punishing staff sergeants, so you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Down. Up!”

“Fifty, Sergeant Romanoff,” your voice cracks and you shake your head to not think much of it.

“Tired yet, Sergeant Y/N?” Romanoff asks, squatting down to your level. The collar of your uniform is dampened with sweat and you feel it collecting on your forehead.

“No, ma’am!” you lie.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping you anytime soon,” Romanoff says, and you feel your arms quiver in the slightest at her threat. “Down. Up!”

“Fifty-one, Sergeant Romanoff!” you grunt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha lie down flat on the floor and slide herself under you. She positions herself right underneath your crotch and embarrassingly, you feel yourself harden at the thought of your cock being so close to her face.

“Sergeant?” you ask.

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Romanoff says, reaching up and pulling your tucked in shirt out of the waistband of your pants. She undoes a few of the buttons on the bottom, slipping her hand inside and running it across the soaked skin of your flexed abs. “I’ve always admired your dedication to physical fitness, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you respond, your arms shaking as you try to keep yourself upright.

Romanoff traces her fingers lower and unbuckles your belt, pulling down your zipper. Her fingers purposely brush over your clothed bulge and your body jolts. You suck in a breath, but now with all the blood in your body going down to your groin, your collapse is inevitable.

“Down.”

You don’t know if you should keep your hips straight or arch them up, but your body has a mind of its own now and you lower yourself, your bulge bumping against Romanoff’s nose. She doesn’t give you the command to push back up, so you wait in that position, shaking from the effort.

Romanoff peels down your boxers, freeing your hard cock, and licks at it tentatively. You grunt at the contact, now wanting to press down harder into her, but you resist.

“Up.”

You groan as you find the strength to push yourself away from her mouth.

“Uh...fifty...fifty-two, Sergeant Romanoff.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already lost count,” Romanoff teases, reaching up and wrapping her warm hand around you, pumping it slowly. Your thighs quiver from the stimulation and you feel pre-cum shuttle out of the tip. “Down.”

This time when you lower yourself, Romanoff guides you into her mouth. She takes almost your entire length, nestling your head in the back of her throat and your eyes roll in pleasure.

Instead of telling you to go back up (since her mouth is full of your dick), she pushes against your thighs and you begrudgingly obey.

“F-Fifty-three, Sergeant Romanoff,” you whimper when your cock is exposed to the cool air once again. All you want is to be buried down the warmth of her throat until you lose your load.

“How many more do you think you can last?” Romanoff asks. “Two? Three?”

Privately, you don’t think you’ll last another one, with the fact that you’re on top of her but she’s in control of you making your head spin.

“Down.”

You moan in relief when she takes you again, this time sealing her lips around the base of your cock and sucking rhythmically. Your hips start to jerk on their own, breaking your perfect form, but you don’t care anymore and you can tell your sergeant doesn’t, either.

“Fuck, Sergeant,” you splutter, her tongue teasing the veins on your cock finally sending you over the edge without warning. Your thighs flex and your arms shake as you struggle to keep yourself from falling on top of Romanoff completely. Her throat milks you to swallow your entire load and she doesn’t stop until you’re begging to pull back out.

“You tasted better than I thought you would, Sergeant,” Romanoff says, sliding out from under you. “Recover.” You scramble to stand up, resuming the position of attention and humiliated to notice your now-limp cock hanging out of your pants. Your chest heaves from the exertion of over 50 pushups and you know Romanoff isn’t done with you yet.

She moves to stand in front of you. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and leans against you, putting her hand on your cock once more, massaging it back to hardness. “I hope you have good stamina here too,” she whispers, before pushing you onto her desk and riding you until neither of you can walk.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

Click here for Part 2!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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rifo1011 · 1 year ago

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helioscopepdx · 20 days ago

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The Schweizer Guide to Spotting Tangents

A fantastic resource from friend-of-the-studio @schweizercomics, who wrote this guide back in 2011. Read on for a goldmine of information (and visual examples) about avoiding tangents in your work!

Comic art is, as a general rule, a line-based medium. I know, I know, there are plenty of artists whose work is painted, or who depict their subject in ink using solely light and shadow. But these folks are unquestioningly in the minority, as the history of printing technology originally dictated the use of line to depict form in the early days of comics. This became a stylistic expectation, and it’s an expectation that I enthusiastically embrace, as have many others. But using line to draw the world invites chances for that cardinal sin of composition: the tangent.

A tangent is when two or more lines interact in a way that insinuates a relationship between them that the artist did not intend. It can create confusion on the part of the audience as to what it is that they’re looking at. It can cause the spatial depth that one attempts to cultivate through the use of planes to become flattened. Most of all, it creates a decidedly unwelcome aesthetic response: tangents are just plain ugly. There are a lot of different types of tangents, as least according to the way I define them. In order to make it easier on my students when giving critiques, I’ve categorized them and named them. This may have been done before, but I’ve not encountered it. My hope is that, by making this “spot-the-enemy” guide, fewer artists will fall into the tangent trap by knowing what to look for.

1. The Long Line

The long line is when a line from one object runs directly into the line of another. This is the tangent that everybody knows. The one that’s easiest to spot, easiest to avoid. For a lot of folks, this is the only thing meant when one refers to a “tangent.” Even in the work of the very best comic artists, a vigilant eye can find the occasional tangent. Even when a cartoonist is constantly on the lookout, a tangent can slip through. But, as each of strive to better ourselves and the quality of our work and our medium,

2. The Parallel

The parallel tangent is when the containing lines of two objects run alongside each other. This causes one of two negative outcomes. Either one object becomes “lost,” as the other overpowers it (figure 1), or one object feels strangely contained by another (figure 2). This can be avoided by ensuring that any object that COULD run alongside another is angled at least 45 degrees from the first. The next two are REALLY tough to spot, and most artists have fallen victim to them before.

3. The Corner

The corner tangent is when two lines in an object meet in a way intended by the artist, but another (accidental) line runs directly into the place where they meet.

4. The Bump-Up

A bump-up tangent is when the containing line of one object “bumps up” against the containing line of another object. When these two lines touch, it creates a bump-up tangent (and even when they don’t technically touch, if it’s close enough to raise eyebrows, they might as well). The bump-up gives the impression of containment. In figure 1, it seems as though her ponytail is physically unable to enter the space occupied by the pole. In figure 2, it feels as though her elbow is unable to LEAVE that space.

Also, be careful not to let elements of the drawing bump up against your panel borders! Either give them room to breathe or decisively crop them.

5. The Directional

A directional tangent is basically just a long-line tangent that’s been broken by empty space. Now, this one isn’t always bad – it can, on occasion, be used to draw the reader’s eye through the image on a specifically determined path.

6. The Panel-to-Panel

This one is exactly the same thing as the directional (in fact, I shouldn’t even classify it as its own thing), save that instead of empty space dividing a long-line it’s a panel gutter. My gutters are crazy wide, but with normal-sized gutters this can be a real problem. One more thing… This ain’t a tangent, but it is a compositional no-no.

Fake Panels

Comics generally have panel borders, so readers are used to having images contained by straight lines. Some artists don’t allow gutters between their borders. Though I believe that, as a rule, this can make it harder for new comics readers to follow the story (and new readers are always important), it’s done with enough regularity that we must expect the audience to feel comfortable with gutterless pages. What does this mean? It means that we can’t draw a straight line in any panel, either vertical or horizontal, without having some object overlap it. If we do, readers may think that it is a panel border, incorrectly breaking one moment into two.

See how the overlap of the elbow causes there to be no question?

That's it for Lesson #1!

#chris schwiezer #making comics #tangents #how to make comics #friend of the studio #comics #tangent #drawing #how to draw comics #craft

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rafesgoldrings · 1 year ago

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Omg something for you to consider…the Kook boys doing lines off of Kook!Reader’s body, like her tits and her thigh. Them letting her do a bump or two but not much while they use her body for both kinds of pleasure

“Come on pretty girl, we let you have your fun. Now it’s our turn” Topper spoke in a mocking tone, you’d done two lines tonight and it had already kicked in. They’d circled you like vultures, the sight of you wearing that short fucking dress with no bra and straps you tied into a bow, those pretty white heels, pouty lips nice and glossy and ready to be wrapped around their cocks. Your eyes were glazed over with lust, pupils dilated from the coke coursing through your system, as you propped yourself up on your elbows in the bed watching them.

Rafe walked over to one side of you, Kelce to the other, and began untying your shoulder straps. Each boy gently caressing the soft skin and leaving small kisses, slowly moving up until you had a boy on each side of your neck marking and kissing it. Topper was busy taking off your heels, moving his hands all over your legs inching higher and higher to your soaked thong, lips kissing your legs like he was worshipping them, it was making your head spin. You felt Topper pull your panties down, the cold air hitting your soaked core causing you to let out a soft gasp. The other two gently tapped your hips, wanting you to lift them up so they could remove the dress, and whistled at the sight of your nude body.

“Yeah sweetheart. Just lay there all nice and pretty for us, no need to think about anything else tonight” Rafe spoke, his voice now in front of you. Now that you looked, they were all in front of you. Rafe moved to grab the small plastic bag full of the remaining coke from the desk and, once it was retrieved, walked back towards the right side of you again. Once he was there, sat on the bed and moving your body so you were sitting at a 45 degree angle, he poured the powder on various parts of your body. Your tits, your stomach, your thighs, and then finally…right on your pubis.

“Stay very still for us sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to fuck up our high would you?” his hand stroked your cheek, his voice sounding gentle but holding a darker meaning. Smirking in satisfaction when your voice came out small, fragile almost, and said ‘no’. Your eyes were glossy, pupils blown, the expression on on your face like a puppy who’d been told no. “That’s our good eager girl”

You felt them all go to various parts of your body, all except the most intimate area. That was reserved for Rafe and only him, you might be dating them all. You might be fucking them all. Hell they might even be fucking each other sometimes. But Rafe owned you, he owned all of you. He liked to consider himself the one in charge, he called all the shots, he got final say, he was the one that got you in the ways the others could only wish. So neither Kelce or Topper dared do the line off of that spot, they just moved like animals to your tits, thighs, and stomach. Snorting and licking at the white powder like it was a life line, your soft whimpers making them feel like they already went through an entire life supply of cocaine.

“Awe, that feel good princess? Yeahhhh, that feels good” Kelce cooed, smirking at the other two boys when you let out a loud whine. Rafe waved them away from your upper half once your skin was clean from the powder, the two reluctantly moving to sit at the foot of the bed to watch.

“Shh shh baby, we’re right here. No need to be so loud, keep it down until we say so yeah?” Rafe placed his fingers against your mouth, thumb circling your lips and slowly pushing it inside. You began sucking it, something you’d just done out of reflex, tongue circling it and moaning as if it was his cock. His dark eyes would gaze down at you, scanning over your perfect body, watching your pouty lips suck his thumb so fucking eagerly, before pulling it out of your mouth. A ring of the sparkly lipgloss you had on coated the base of his thumb, he’d just wipe it on the corner of your mouth, smearing it around and making it messy. “Now you fit the part of being our messy slut sweetheart”

“Alright Cameron, get down here and do your line so we can put pretty girls mouth to use” Topper mumbled, annoyance lacing his voice as he waved his hand to the foot of the bed where he had just been.

“Watch your tone, Top. Don’t think I won’t make you watch Kelce and I tag team her, fill that pretty little hole of hers with come, and force you to only watch. Unable to touch even yourself because your hands are tied to her desk” Rafe’s eyes narrowed, almost daring Topper to say something other than okay.

“Fuck, okay. Sorry man” he shot the blonde a smirk, moving down to the edge of the bed and crawling between your legs.

“Such a pretty cunt princess, you think it’s ready for me to use?” you eagerly nodded, whining when Topper attached his lips to your tits and began sucking.

Kelce was still sitting in the same spot, cock pulled out and stroking it softly as he listened and watched your body react so positively to their words, to their touch. “Sound so pretty sweetheart, look so pretty. It’s all for us right? Just for your three favorite boys and nobody else?” you weakly nodded your head, too far gone to properly speak.

Rafe snorted the powder and then slapped your clit harshly causing you to gasp and squirm. “He asked you a fucking question, answer him using your words you dumb slut” he watched in awe as you clenched around nothing, arousal leaking out of your tight hole when he degraded you.

“A-all yours. Only belong to you three” the three of them agreeing with a smirk on their faces, telling you that you were their good girl forever. They were never letting you go now, they couldn’t.

“There’s our good girl. We’ve all had our taste of our high, now I want to taste this pretty cunt that belongs to us. Can fucking see how much she’s missed us from how wet you are, how she’s missed me” he mumbled the last part quietly, sliding two fingers inside you and looking up to watch your face screw up in pleasure, pretty lips parting and pulling Topper in for a kiss.

Kelce moved so he was jerking off over your tits with one hand, the other pulling at your nipples. Top had pulled his cock out and placed it against your lips when he pulled away from the kiss, watching as it completely disappeared down your throat. Rafe’s fingers began pumping into you faster, the wet sounds of your cunt and muffled moans around Topper going straight to his cock. He added a third once you were wet enough, groaning when you clenched so tight around his fingers.

“God you’re such dirty slut. Letting us use you like this, letting us do coke off your body and then using your holes like you’re a little free use fuck doll.” Rafe was the one that degraded you the most, he knew you liked it and if there was ever a time he took it too far, you’d let him know. It got you so wet, so worked up when he did it though.

“Awe come on Rafe, she’s got to be good at something right? Being our pretty fuck doll is what she’s decided to do” Kelce chuckled darkly, hand coming down to slap your tits and watch them bounce around. A small bruise rising to the surface from the sudden force.

“Don’t be assholes you guys. Out pretty girl is trying her best, it’s not easy having to take three cocks at once huh baby? She just wants to make us happy. Isn’t that right sweetheart? You’re so fucking good for us princess” Topper was the sweetest one, not scared to degrade you but also wanting to have balance between the three of them when it came to sex and dirty talk.

If this was any indication how the rest of the night was going to go, the three of them using your body in various ways, the mean and mocking, to slightly less mean, to sweet dirty talk, you don’t know how you’d survive. Especially when Rafe kept hitting the right spot inside you with every twist and turn of his finger, the coke making you way more sensitive and needy. It would be a very interesting night for you four.

Tag List: @sweetestdesire @xyzstar @congratsloserr @madelynie @dreamingwithrafe @outerbankspov @aerangi @salvatoremikaelson54 @cherryniceties (and ivy because she loves her kook boys)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #kelce obx #kelce x reader #kelce imagine #kelce outer banks #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton smut #topper thornton #poly!kooks x kook!reader #asks <3

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