#Hilarious gardening shirt. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shogunish · 1 year ago

Text

𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝘆.

pairing. pervy roommate! gojo x f! reader

genre. (implied) friends to lovers, smut

warnings. panty sniffing, gojo jacks off with reader's panties, hair-pulling, pet names (doll, love), loss of virginity, rough sex, unprotected sex, big dick gojo, choking, gojo and reader are in their late teens ok (18 - 19), fingering

words. 6k

summary. satoru always hated laundry day, but now he's quite fond of it. after all, he gets to see all your cute panties and steal a pair for his personal use.

note. i want to use his cum as a face mask and this is the result 👩🏻‍🦯

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

"Satoru, you're–"

"Handsome, intelligent, charming and funny." A smirk graces Satoru's features and he probably would've flipped his hair if it was any longer. He sends you a cheeky wink as he leans against the kitchen counter, as full of himself as ever as he strikes a pose that would make any girl swoon for him. "Yeah, I know."

Well, any girl but you.

Sometimes, you wonder why you agreed to be Satoru's roommate. Maybe it was the fact that Jujutsu dorms cost so much that you couldn't handle the finances on your own and like the snake in Adam and Eve's garden, Satoru seduced you into this hilarious arrangement.

"I've got the money," he said.

"It'll be fun," he said.

A sigh slips your lips and if it weren't for the laundry basket in your hands, you would've put your palm to your head. This man is the sole cause of all your headaches. "You're doing the laundry today."

And with an echoing smack, you drop the laundry basket in front of his feet with your infamous are-you-kidding-me look.

"Again?!" Satoru pouts as he begrudgingly picks up the basket of dirty laundry and glares at the clothes like they're his sworn enemy, his arch nemesis. "I did them like two weeks ago, right? This counts as roommate abuse, I'm certain!" Is that a whine you hear in his voice?

Crossing your arms over one another, you pop your hip to the side and raise a fine eyebrow at your stupidly handsome roommate. "And I did them last week. It's your turn now, Satoru," your voice is stern as you bend over slightly in an accusing way. "While I signed up to deal with your chaotic ass, you signed up to do the laundry every two weeks!"

The daggers your eyes throw at Satoru make him think twice about dishing out another smart comment, but he can't help it. He thinks you're cute when you glare at him like this, hands on your hips and the hint of your cleavage blessing his Six Eyes. It's the only reason why he winds you up like this.

"Whoa there! If you keep glowering like this, you'll get wrinkles!," Satoru snickers as he dashes into the bathroom before you could cuss him out or toss another piece of laundry at his head. For some reason, you had once managed to toss a pair of his dirty boxers at his head from around the damn corner.

Satoru swears up and down that you put cursed energy into your throw, but you deny all accusations like you're a saint.

"No idea what you're talking about," you smiled.

"Maybe it got possessed by the laundry curse," you said.

He still calls bullshit on your claims.

Satoru finds himself sitting on the cool tiles of the bathroom. It's a little small with the laundry basket by his side, but he'll survive..right?

A bored look settles down on his face as he glances at the laundry, sighs in agony and grabs two articles of clothing, one being white, the other being a bright baby blue. In the back of his head, he can hear you nagging him about something..something seemingly important.

What was it again..?

Ah, right.

"Remember to separate the whites from the colored ones," Satoru mocks you in a high-pitched voice as he disregards your advice with purpose and stuffs your baby blue summer dress into the washing machine along with his snow white dress shirt.

Honestly, what could go wrong? The laundry coming out fresh and clean? Boohoo, what a bummer. It'd be a shame if the two of you had good-smelling clothing. How scary.

Pettily, Satoru tosses the laundry into the washing machine piece after piece. As he reaches the bottom of the laundry basket, interest gleams in his eyes as he spots the couple of bras and panties you hid underneath all the clothing and his underwear (which he always boldly and responsibly puts in the laundry!).

After several months of living together, Satoru has seen your underwear more times than he can count and he wonders why you're still so embarrassed about it. He's seen all your granny panties.

A pair of simple, dark purple panties catch his attention. Nimble fingers are quick to pick them up and Satoru regards them with..intrigue. They're plain and it's obvious you haven't gotten laid yet, but there's a cute little bow at the front. These must be new, he concludes.

Your nude feet are still parading around the kitchen as you diligently clean the space just like the two of you agreed on and it'd take a while for you to finish your part of the deal. Nevertheless, Satoru quietly shuts the door just in case..

"These are cute..," he muses to himself and stretches the fabric with his two index fingers. Lips pursed in thought, brilliant blue eyes scrutinize the panties with a certain glint like he's assessing, judging them over the rim of his pitch black sunglasses.

This is a good pair of panties, but nowhere as cute as the ones with the floral patterns; those are Satoru's personal favorites that are still hidden in his nightstand's drawer. He swears he's no pervert, but he can't help himself!

You're nothing but sweet to Satoru, always offering him the last slice of pizza and taking care of him when he's sick. A cute red hue dusts your cheeks whenever he teases you and oh, the way you stumble over your words when he compliments you! You get so awkward, it's cute.

What does Shoko call you? Ah right, a girlfailure.

Luckily for you, Satoru is very much into the girlfailure he shares the dorm with, although he hides it well behind an exterior of teasing, banter and his natural charm.

Once Satoru is done inspecting your panties, he brings the fabric to his nose and inhales your scent, feeling a little ball of heat form in the pit of his stomach. He gulps down the lump in his throat. There's no scent sweeter than that of your pussy when you got your own panties wet. It's obvious on that little wet patch darkening the fabric a tad bit.

Oh, how adorable you have to be when your little cunt gets excited, soaks your panties and you can't do anything about it.

"Hmm..," Satoru hums in thought before stuffing that certain pair of panties into his pockets. "I'll keep these for research purposes."

It's late at night when Satoru tosses and turns in his bed. It's not the summer heat that makes it hard to fall asleep, but the thought of you. The way you'd show off your legs in those little shorts, your cleavage blessing his glimmering eyes from underneath the top and the way you are..you around him.

All of it gets to him in ways that he could never say out loud or else you'd kick him out in an instant.

"This sucks," Satoru groans and tosses an arm over his eyes, rolling around in self-pity. Who would've guessed that he'd fall for the cute new classmate who has as much of an attitude as he does? Maybe if you weren't like this, he wouldn't be lying on his back, fighting back a raging boner as he thinks about your sweet smile.

Satoru tries ignoring it. He thinks of Yaga's cursed corpses, Shoko calling him a loser for staring at you like a love-struck puppy and the way you felt in his arms when he had to save you from a curse.

He sighs in agony. Enough is enough!

Satoru hooks his fingers into the elastics of his sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down in one swift motion. A wet smack bounces off the walls as his cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen, twitching and throbbing. Satoru groans.

The tip is flushed a pretty shade of red and pre-cum oozes from the slit, pooling on his heated skin. His cock is curved upwards and certainly doesn't lack in thickness or length. A pretty vein runs across the sensitive skin, starting from the base and going all the way up to the flushed tip.

Shit..," Satoru cusses softly and briefly leans his head back against the headboard with a dull thud. Just thinking about you wearing those cute panties, pushing them to the side and sheathing his cock in your tight hole is enough to get him this hard, to get him this eager to fuck you.

But he can't.

You'd likely slap the living daylights out of him.

Satoru wraps your used panties around his hand like he's done many, many times before before he fists his cock. One drag up and another one going down. The soft fabric of your panties rub him just the right way, drawing a deep groan from the depth of his chest.

"Fuck, [Name]..," he breathes out and gradually begins rubbing his cock at a steady pace. "You'll be the death of me.."

Satoru can no longer help himself. His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps, thinking of your cute smile. The way you call out his name, come crawling to him when you need comfort and not to mention you accidentally flashed him your panties when you were up against a curse.

But that's not all. He can only imagine sinking himself into your cunt, stretching you out and making you cry as he fucks you into the mattress. Certainly, he'd leave your greedy pussy leaking of his cum and wanting more until he'd overstimulate himself.

Satoru moves his fist faster and tightens his grip around his cock. Pre-cum stains the dark fabric of your panties that slide along his length so effortlessly, like you've chosen that specific pair just for him to use.

"Crap, just a bit more..," he mumbles, voice thick with a mix of longing and lust alike.

One tight drag upwards, he uses his thumb to massage the swollen head of his cock, squeezing some more pre-cum out. The white essence stains his fist, your used panties and trickles down the length of his cock until the drops pool at his heavy balls.

Would you let him use your hand like that?

Scratch that, why would he cum over your delicate hand when he could fuck your mouth, have tears streaming down your cheeks and cum down your little throat?

Yeah, that seems much better.

"Fuck, yeah.. Just like that.." Satoru's abs twitch in anticipation and his cock twitches in his hands as he gradually speeds up. The scent of your panties invades his nose, making him delirious and clouding his mind. All he can think about is cumming in your pretty panties.

His hips buck up into his fists and he quickly wraps the crotch of your panties around the tip. He's so close he can taste it. "Ah.. Ngh.. Fuck.. Yes, yes, yes!"

The movement of Satoru's fist is messy, almost needy as he finally cums with your name on his tongue. "Ah fuuck, [Name].."

Pearly white cum stains the fabric of your panties and soaks them as Satoru rubs himself through his orgasm, milking himself of every last drop. Groans and moans generously spill from his lips as he thinks of you, your perfect lips wrapped around his tip and swallowing his cum like a good girl.

Sweat trickles down his temple as he comes down from his high, soft huffs escaping his lips. Pulling the panties away from the head of his cock, Satoru stares at the pool of cum like he's entranced.

He wonders if you'd wear those with his cum on them, his seed sticking to your pretty pussy all damn day.

"Shit.." Satoru wants to discard the panties, let them join the laundry basket so you wouldn't notice but when his brilliant blue eyes flutter open, they suddenly meet your gaze.

Your eyes are wide, lips parted and your tongue slides out to wet them. A glimmer of shock swims in your eyes and a hue of red dusts the apples of your cheeks.

All you wanted was to seek out his company since you had trouble sleeping, but when you opened the door just a tiny bit, you suddenly watch Satoru shamelessly jacking himself off with your newest pair of panties. As embarrassed as you are, you cannot deny the throb between your legs or the wetness pooling there.

He looked..pretty when he came.

Satoru groans. "Instead of watching, you could help a guy out, you know?"

"Excuse me..?" Your ears must be deceiving you just like your eyes. Certainly, this has to be a very realistic dream in which you catch Satoru jacking off, but you'd wake up soon, right? You'd wake up and keep this dream to yourself to save yourself from Satoru's onslaught of teasing words.

Clicking his tongue, Satoru sits up on his bed and pets the spot beside him. "You can't sleep, right? C'mere, I'll help you out."

Yes, this definitely has to be a fever dream of yours.

Against your better judgment, you sit down right next to your roommate who still has your panties - which are stained with his cum - in his fist. The mattress dips with your weight and you shyly fold your hands in your lap. You can't bring yourself to look Satoru in the eyes. Not when his cock is out in the open and standing at attention again.

"Look at me," Satoru demands and for a brief second, you do look at him only to bashfully avoid your gaze again. He thinks nothing of it. Grabbing your chin, he makes you look at him and your lips part in shock once more. "What's wrong, hm? You're usually not so..shy," he teases in low, raspy tones.

In the dim light of the little lamp on his nightstand, being dipped in soft orange hues, your eyes glimmer. Words don't come to you easily, your throat feels tight. How the hell are you supposed to react?

"This is..weird," you manage to squeak out and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment.

Satoru looks at you and then down at himself. He must admit that it is quite the entertaining situation with his dick whipped out, but with the way you're not pushing him away, he knows he's got you on the hook. All you need is a little bit of..coaxing.

"It's only weird if you want it to be." Satoru leans in until his lips are on your ear, whispering right into it. His hot breath sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and his lips press a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear. The kissing sound is soft, yet so wet.

"Satoru, you're–"

"Shh, just relax..," he whispers into your ear. Cupping your jaw lovingly, slow kisses travel from your ear to your cheek and end up on your lips. His kiss is firm, slow, yet there's a certain amount of desire laced into it like he wants you to drown in the pleasure along with him.

You hold Satoru's gaze through half-lidded eyes as your lips move in perfect sync; the result of having worked together for several years now. A firework of butterflies goes off within your tummy, sparking a fire and setting the blood within your veins ablaze. You can't fight it anymore.

Not when he kisses you like he loves you.

When Satoru sneaks his tongue past your lips and draws a soft moan from you, he smiles into the kiss. He finally has you where he's been wanting you for so long. You melt into his strong arms and paw at his chest like you want something more from him, but all he does is chuckle at your silent plea.

Breaking the kiss, a thin string of saliva connects your lips to his and your breath comes out in short huffs. Satoru smiles as he sees the hazy look on your face. "That's a good girl," he praises. "In the end, you're just my girl, aren't you?" He's oh-so-gentle when he strokes your cheeks and you swear..you're falling for him. Hard.

You nod your head. "Yes. I'm..your girl."

"Come here." Satoru cups your jaw and pulls you into another kiss, this time sneaking his tongue past your lips. He draws a surprised gasp from your lips, but he pays it little to no mind as you melt into the kiss. Freely, he explores your mouth and shoves his tongue in just a bit deeper.

Your fingers bury themselves in his hair as you let your back down onto the mattress, pulling Satoru down with you. He gets comfortable between your legs and uses one hand to caress the skin of your upper thigh. Oh, you're so soft compared to his calloused hands.

He trails kisses from your jaw down to your neck where he playfully nibbles at the sensitive skin. Frisky lips suckle your skin between his teeth, sucking pretty hues of purple and blue into your skin. Your hands grasp his tee, a pleasured hiss slips your lips. "S-Satoru.."

Satoru smiles. You sound so cute.

But he doesn't stop there. No. Calloused hands grip your waist and Satoru trails his kisses and bites lower towards your collarbone and furrows his brows when he comes into contact with the sorry excuse of a top you're wearing. It irritates him, but he knows just the way to solve it.

"Off with it." With one swift motion, he pulls your top up and off, tossing it into some corner of his room. Sitting up on his knees, brilliant blue eyes drink your body in.

Those rosy cheeks and shimmering eyes, the curve of your collarbone and your perky little tits begging for his attention. Your waist feels just right in his large hands.

Satoru can't help but smirk. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?," he muses more to himself than you and before you can say anything, he dips his head low and greedily. sucks your nipple into his mouth.

Arching your back off the mattress, you moan his name in broken syllables. White strands of hair tickle your skin, but that's not even the most distracting thing. It's the way he grabs your tits, gropes them and swirls his tongue around your nipples.

"A-ah, Satoru!" Your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the roots, but Satoru pays you no mind. In fact, he groans in appreciation. "Slow down!," you beg but he skillfully ignores your pleas like always.

"Are they sensitive?" Satoru pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop and smirks as it glistens in his saliva. "They look sensitive." Grabbing a new handful of your tits, he squeezes them harder until you whine, kiss-swollen lips parted and all. You curl your toes and dumbly nod your head. "Of course they are.."

Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, Satoru leans in until his lips brush against the conch of your ear. He gives it a slow, tantalizing lick. "You're so responsive and sensitive. I can't wait to hear you when I sink my cock into you," he whispers into your ear, voice rough and thick with primal lust.

"Then do it," you whine and buck your hips up into his. Your clothed pussy grinds into his cock in delicious ways. You can feel his size through the material and briefly wonder how he's supposed to fit. "Just fuck me already, Toru.."

Your begging catches Satoru off-guard. He blinks at you once, twice before his lips crack into a mischievous smile. "My, my, you're so impatient and demanding for a virgin." It feels like he's mocking you as he's pulling his tee off, revealing his toned abs to your greedy little hands. "I've gotta prep you a bit, doll. Or else you'll whine about how it's too big."

With blazing, fond eyes, Satoru watches you as your hands appreciatively wander from his toned stomach all the way up to his muscled chest. Your gentle touch is enough to leave a burning path behind that makes his muscles twitch underneath the tips of your fingers.

"I would never..," you mumble absent-mindedly, soft palms stroking his flexing biceps all the way down to his forearms. You've seen Satoru shirtless countless times and yet, you never quite realized just how..built he really is. It's about damn time you appreciate him, right?

"Oh baby.. Yes, you would.." Satoru grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding it to the elastic of his shorts and boxers, encouraging you to pull them off completely.

You take a steady breath through your nose and hold his gaze while pulling off the rest of his clothes, tossing them away like he did earlier. For a moment, you don't dare to look any lower than his mesmerizing eyes. It felt..indecent, but isn't that the fun part?

"There we go," Satoru snickers once the remaining clothes are off your body and on his bedroom floor. He's shameless as he grabs your knees and forces your legs open to stare at your leaking cunt. The lips are glossy and sticky with arousal. If he looks closely, he can see your tight walls fluttering around nothing. "Fuck..gonna loosen you up a bit first, okay? It'll feel good, trust me."

"Y-yes.." You nod your head, voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru kneels in-between your legs and uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips open. Long fingers massage your messy lips to get you used to the feeling, steadily rubbing them up and down before his fingers go to brush your clit.

"Ah!" You curl in on yourself, your thighs want to squeeze shut but are stopped by Satoru's slim waist. "Satoru, that's–!"

"Good, isn't it?" He finishes your sentence with a smug expression on his face and cocks his head to the side as he watches you squirm. His thumb teases your clit in slow circles, playfully flicking the nub a few times until you're moaning his name. Oh, Satoru's having way too much fun touching you like this.

"Yes, yes! O-oh!" Your eyes go wide as Satoru lathers his fingers in your essence and glides his middle finger down to your entrance, slowly sliding it into your tight cunt. "It feels..funny.."

Satoru laughs. It's loud and melodious and makes you blush deeply. "Don't worry. You'll feel good in a moment. Just relax and enjoy it, doll."

Gently, Satoru curves his finger upwards and thrusts it in and out of your cunt. The initial uncertainness on your face morphs into pleasure and your head drops back into the pillows. Soft moans and sighs spill from your lips, your legs fall open. Pleasure begins to cloud your mind.

"Good girl," he praises you and lowers himself on top of you to press a kiss to your cheek. "All you have to do is take my fingers one by..," Satoru trails off and eases his ring finger into your cunt, gently rubbing that sweet spot within you. "..one."

"Ngh..ah..oh god.." You dig your fingers into the sheets below and arch your back, pressing your tits flush against his hard chest. With twitching thighs, you grind your hips into Satoru's skilled fingers and moan your praises right into his ear. "More.. Need more.."

"You're still a bit too tight for my cock, love," Satoru chuckles as he picks up the pace, fingerling your little pussy in scissoring motions. "I don't wanna see you cry about it..yet."

Each time he drills his fingers into you, his skin smacks against yours, making your hole squelch embarrassingly loud. Moans and whimpers spill from your lips as Satoru effortlessly pokes that sweet spot that you could never reach. Excitedly, your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking them in deeper and welcoming his index finger.

The stretch burns in delicious ways as he spreads his fingers a bit, making sure to spread you a bit before he'd fuck you.

"There we go," Satoru murmurs once you can take all three of his fingers and your juices drip onto the sheets. The smile gracing his lips almost seems to be one of pride. "Think you can take me yet, doll?"

Hastily, you nod your head. "Yes, please! I want you so bad, Toru.."

Satisfied with your answer, Satoru slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, a thin string of arousal following the tips of his fingers. Your juices are webbed between his fingers and he can't help but admire it for a moment before licking his fingers clean.

"Mhh..I can't wait to put my mouth on you next time," Satoru muses as your taste clouds his taste buds. But where's the fun when he's the only one tasting your juices? With a smirk, he pries your lips open and slides his fingers into your mouth. "Go on. Taste yourself."

A soft expression falls over your face as you wrap your tongue around Satoru's fingers and suck on them. The taste of your cunt has you flushing from your chest up. This is filthy, something you've never even thought of doing, but with Satoru..you'd nearly do everything he demands of you. And so you eagerly suck his fingers clean with a little moan.

Once he's certain you've done your job right, Satoru pulls his fingers out of your mouth and absent-mindedly wipes them dry on the sheets. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls your body flush to his and pushes you into the mattress with his weight. His breath fans across your cheeks.

"This might sting a bit, doll. But you'll get used to it, yeah?," he assures you. Although he appears so composed and level-headed, one glance towards his cock is enough to let you know that he's just as impatient as you are.

Your eyes fall back to his and you wrap your arms around his neck. "It's okay..I can take it."

Satoru smiles and locks your lips with his as he swiftly thrusts his hips against yours, sheathing his cock within your tight walls. It's a messy kiss; you whine into his mouth as he stretches your cunt out and slowly goes deeper, deeper, deeper. Your nails are buried in his scalp, pulling at his hair and your breath comes out in pathetic huffs.

Once he's balls deep in your pussy, Satoru breaks the excuse of a kiss and rests his forehead on your own, composing himself. A steady huff slips his lips as he tries his best to keep still. "Fuck.. I loosened you up and you're still so fucking tight," he groans.

Satoru's words send a shiver down your spine and your walls seem to suck him in a bit deeper. "Shit.. You're b-big..," you say, voice a bit high-pitched but sugary sweet.

He laughs, gently. That's the sort of ego boost someone like Gojo Satoru definitely doesn't need. "I told you it'd be a tight fit."

Large palms caress your thighs and hips while he's peppering kisses up and down your neck. "Tell me when I can move, doll.."

For a moment, you bask in the attention Satoru so generously provides you with. Little kisses, gentle caresses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. The pain of the stretch slowly ebbs away and you nod your head. "Move, Toru..," you mumble with a desperate edge. "Please move.."

You don't have to tell him twice. Satoru pulls his hips back until only the tip remains and slowly thrusts back into your cunt with a deep grunt. Dull fingernails bury themselves into the skin of your hips as he sets a slow pace and draws moan after sweet moan from your lips.

Your toes curl. Satoru's cock presses into all the right spots that you could never reach on your own. He wipes all worries and every possible thought from your mind. You throw your head back into the pillows and arch your back, tits bouncing with each thrust he delivers to your freshly popped cunt. "Ah..mh..fuck yes.."

Your moans increase in volume and pitch; he picks up the pace and buries his face in the crook of your neck where he bites into the skin to muffle his own noises, claiming you as his. "Crap..so tight..so wet.." A few curses fall from Satoru's lips.

Pushing you further into the mattress, Satoru grabs your wrists and pins them up above your head; you don't even seem to notice. He finishes each thrust with a roll of his hips and groans whenever your gummy walls flutter around him, needing him to stay right where he is.

Suddenly, your eyes go wide and a little scream is torn from your throat. "Ah! Toru! Right there!"

"Right here?," Satoru rolls his hips into yours again, placing his large palm on your lower abdomen, only to draw the very same reaction from you. You rapidly nod your head, lip bitten between your teeth. He smirks. "So that's the spot, huh.."

Satoru interlaces your fingers together and begins abusing that spot for good measure. His cock drills into your poor pussy over and over again as you moan and squirm underneath him. Around his waist, your thighs shake. Your juices drip down your ass and his balls, making each smack just a tad bit louder, filthier. His groans mix with your moans and little babbles.

The way you look at him through half-lidded eyes, taking his pounding like you're made for him specifically and offering your body for his pleasure. It's all too much for Satoru.

"Shit..can't make love to you when you're looking at me like this." Letting go of your hands, Satoru swipes his sweaty strands of hair back and briefly pulls out of you. Calloused palms grip your waist and easily flip you flat on your stomach.

A squeak of surprise slips your lips as your face is suddenly in the pillows and the way you look at him over your shoulder is probably awkward, too. "Toru..?," you ask through heavy pants.

Hands still on your waist, Satoru uses his strength to push you into the mattress, to keep you from squirming. "Hold still. I need to fuck you, doll."

There's no need to question what exactly he means by that when his cock bullies its way into your small cunt again. This time, you cry his name into the pillows and lightly kick your legs as he drills right into that spot that makes you see stars.

Satoru is no longer gentle with you as he fucks into you over and over again, shamelessly using your body like he's dreamed of for so long now. All the cute noises you make only fuel him more until he's pounding you into the mattress.

Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, all you can do is moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. Any bit of decency or shame is wiped clean from your mind as Satoru drills his cock into you with precision.

"Still such a tight little pussy..," Satoru laughs, his balls slapping against your clit repeatedly. "Do you like it that much when I use you like this? Tell me."

A rough hand grips the roots of your hair on the top of your head as Satoru leans over your body, pressing his front flush to your back as he continues to pound away at your pussy. His mouth is right at your ear, groaning into it. "C'mon, use your big words like you always do, doll."

Tears gather at your eyes and they're quick to run down your cheeks. You can hardly think straight, much less form a coherent sentence with the way he's treating you. It takes you a moment to pull yourself together before your voice comes out as a broken moan paired with sobs. "I love it, Toru! Don't stop, please.. Please, please don't stop.. Feels too good.."

Satoru groans at your words and rewards you with a particularly sharp thrust. The hand in your hair slides down around your throat, choking you lightly as he catches your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss.

Your eyes roll back again as Satoru easily dominates your tongue. The slippery muscles slide against each other, getting all tangled up and making saliva slip from the corner of your mouth. "Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts into your mouth, his lips finding yours a few times like he needs more of your taste.

"Toru..," you whine, lips swollen from all the kissing and glossy with his saliva. "I'm gonna.. Ah! Oh God!"

"I know baby," Satoru hushes you softly. By the way your cunt clenches around him sporadically, your shaking thighs and those hot tears rolling down your cheeks, he can tell you're close. "Let it go. I've got you."

Your orgasm comes crashing down on you with one skilled roll of Satoru's hips. A yell of his name tears through your throat as you cum all over his cock, making a mess of his lap and the sheets below. He keeps you in check as you squirm and sob and he whispers sweet praises into your ear that go in one ear and out the other. He helps you ride the waves of your high.

"Fuck, gonna fill this sweet pussy up..," Satoru groans and thrusts into your abused cunt a few more times before he buries his face in your neck, groaning your name loudly as he squirts thick ropes of cum right inside. His hips come to a halt as he grinds his essence deeper into you until it seeps out from where he's plugging your hole so deliciously.

For a while, you bask in Satoru's weight collapsing on top of you as he holds you impossibly closer and caresses your lower stomach with sweaty palms. Lazily, he peppers sweet kisses along your neck and pushes your sweaty hair away from his path so he can nuzzle into you all he wants. Snowy strands of hair tickle your face.

"That was..," you start, still out of breath.

"..amazing," Satoru finishes for you with a chuckle.

Not long after, Satoru is kind enough to pull out of you and clean up the mess he's caused. Every once in a while, he claims that it's mainly you who caused the mess since you were, quote "dripping wet", but he's just teasing you, changing not only the sheets but cleaning you up with a damp cloth as well.

Satoru slides right underneath the covers with you and lets you rest your head on his chest while holding you close to his body. Although the room smells like sex, the two of you savor the post-orgasm glow and just..hold each other.

"You know, you're quite the pervert for watching me jack off," Satoru breaks the silence and draws a faux offended gasp from you. Playfully, you smack his chest and he snickers. You always give him such perfect reactions.

"It's you who's the pervert! You jacked off with my panties!" It explains why all your panties disappear for a while only to suddenly spawn from the washing machine.

Satoru rolls his eyes. "Duh? How could I help myself when they're so cute? It's your fault, obviously."

The both of you banter back and forth for a while, mixed with laughter and giggles that fill the room. Despite the fact that Satoru is a panty stealer, the moment is quite sweet. You're glad that you can still laugh with him like this after having done..unspeakable things.

Once the laughter dies down and your eyes grow heavy, you feel like you should confess one more thing before drifting off to dreamland in Satoru's arms. Your voice is quiet and soft as you speak. "I've..used a pair of your boxers.."

Satoru tightens his arm around you and takes a breath through his nose. "Have you touched yourself in them?"

Silence follows, speaking volumes about the deeds you have committed.

"..Can I sniff them?"

"You pervert!"

"Objection! You're just as messed up as I am!"

feel free to send me your jjk thirsts/thoughts and i'll write a lil' something <3

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru smut

2K notes · View notes

adickaboutspoons · 3 months ago

Text

Happy sexual Sunday. In honor of Rhys announcing his upcoming substack by pointing at hand-written bulletpoints on a chalkboard with a screwdriver, I want to share the OnlyFans Stede idea that has been in my plot bunny pen for ages, but prolly isn't going to go anywhere. Stede's OF account was set up for him by Lucius, and is completely neutral content of him demonstrating basic auto maintenance and, like, how to tie a fishing lure, and a bunch of other Dad things, and he's completely oblivious to how unintentionally suggestive he's being. Like, he's filming himself working in the garden when it's super hot out, makes a "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" dad joke, strips off his shirt and uses it to mop his brow. He's on his hands and knees, pulling up weeds, and when he manages to pull up a particularly stubborn one, roots and all, kind-of-whispery/grunting-to-himself, "Aww, yeah. That's what you want, baby." Then he sits back and takes a deep drink from his water bottle, and accidentally holds it near his crotch while encouraging his watchers to stay hydrated. Ed is one of his subscribers and finds the whole thing just brain-meltingly hot. Eventually, they accidentally meet IRL, and Ed is trying to be SO COOL and not let it be known that he knows this guy and where from. And then they keep running into one another (by total coincidence - Ed hasn't become a convert to going to the farmer's market instead of just picking shit up from the grocery store on the off (likely) chance of running into Stede while he's there. Not at ALL.), and start becoming friendly. It's during one of these meetings Ed accidentally slips that he's a subscriber. He's mortified. For a moment he thinks Stede is going to get all weirded out. But Stede is just like "Oh! You like the feed? Why didn't you say so?! Always glad to meet my Only Fan!" (Stede has a v. healthy subscribership, but he thinks making the Only Fan joke is Hilarious) Stede asks for his username, and when he tells him, Stede is all "Oh! I know YOU! I can't tell you how much your feedback means to me. Always leaves me feeling all glowy for days!" Ed is all blushy and stammery and, "Uh... yeah, man. Me too." He offers Ed a hug, and Ed is internally combusting. Stede is all "If you've got any ideas for the feed, I'm always open to suggestions. Is there anything you'd like to see me doing?" There are MANY things Ed would like to see him doing. None of which are appropriate to give voice to in a crowded open-air market. Eventually eventually, after many instances where Ed is going crazy trying to figure out if it's a date or just a hang, there would be a v. thorough railing wherein Stede whispers all the tender, affirmational things Ed could ever have wished to hear. So! here's the only bit of it I've actually bothered to write:

The man on the screen smeared a little grease around the tight little hole, then inserted the cylinder into the gap in one smooth, gratifying motion. "There we are," he said, his voice a low, self-satisfied hum, "A nice, tight fit. And doesn't it feel good to do it yourself?"

Ed's breathing picked up pace a little.

"And that's how you replace a spark plug. Nothing shocking about it." He smiled a charming, little shit-eating grin and winked at the camera.

Ed's breath caught in his throat.

"So that's it for this one! Thanks, as always to my subscribers, and a special tip of the hat to this week's new friends," he looked away from the camera and put on a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses. Ed swooned a little as he read out the names from an actual printed page.

At the end of it, he took off the glasses and looked directly into the camera again, his eyes soft and his smile genuine and kind. "Thank you for sharing this time with me. Lots of love!"

There was nothing explicitly sexual about the CapriSun_Erotica OnlyFans page. In fact, the most shocking thing about it was how roundly wholesome the content was. Just a man and his phone camera and a world of practical advice and dad jokes. An intensely hot man in the tiniest shorts or tightest jeans Ed had ever seen, who seemed allergic to doing up the top three buttons on his shirts, and that radiated so much DILF energy Ed was a little astonished the videos didn't just melt his phone screen. It was the most intensely arousing thing Ed had ever seen.

He eased himself out of his boxers and hit the replay button.

When he had cleaned himself up, he tapped out a quick reply. "Hey DaddyStede, great vid as usual. Really got my motor running. 😘"

#ofmd sesu #ofmd #our flag means death #crew4life #permanent ink

96 notes · View notes

raspberryfrogs · 3 months ago

Text

a cowplant guy🐮🪴

his name randomized as Wade Singleton which I found hilarious for some reason so we're keeping it bc otherwise he would get named Cow Plant :')

| facial hair @goopsims | tattoo @j3lly-fish | teeth | nose piercing @pralinesims

crop top @trillyke | sweatpant @nucrests | booties

hoodie + hat @dizzyrobinsims | skirt (romantic garden) | shoes @sewerwolfx | tights @seaslugsims

top | bralette | skirt @loreleisims | shoes @charonlee

shirt @bellessims | shorts (spa day) | shoes (TSR)

tank top @azeterna | shorts (island living)

#lowkey obsessed w him #the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 lookbook #ts4 occult #ts4 plantsim #my sims #mine #cowplant hoodie my beloved

101 notes · View notes

vivantesopvles · 6 months ago

Text

They meet again between life and death, in a place called the Limbo.

This time, Harry does not wake up in the pure-white King’s Cross he so often revisits in his memory. He’s back at the Dursleys’, locked inside his cupboard again. And someone’s banging hard on the door.

No, he thinks in despair. Not Uncle Vernon.

‘Open up!’ But the voice is too high to be his uncle’s, Harry dimly notes; and the accent way too rough to be Dudley’s either. ‘We’re running out of time!’

‘Door’s locked from the outside,’ Harry says wearily. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Use your magic, you daft mug. And it’s Riddle you’re speaking to.’

The lever is met with resistance when Harry turns the handle. But Riddle’s right. Harry pushes his magic through the keyhole – Alohomora – and the lock clicks open.

Riddle is eleven, and so is Harry now, it seems. He takes a look at Harry – a dead spider caught on his shoulder, his too-large t-shirt full of holes – and curls his lips with derision.

‘So that’s how you’ve been using your magic?’

Harry ignores him. He leads the way out onto the empty street. As they walk past the trimmed hedges and boring gardens, Riddle tries to get him to talk again. ‘A wizard called Dumbledore says I should find you, says you know the way,’ he prompts.

‘Did he?’ Harry is briefly taken aback. ‘Where to?’

‘To the new place, of course.’ Riddle shoots him a dubious glance. ‘You’d better not be giving me the runaround.’

‘I’m not,’ Harry says, wondering why Dumbledore still enjoys complicating matters this much, even in death. ‘In any case if we’re going anywhere, I think we ought to head over to King’s Cross Station first …’

‘King’s Cross? That’s in London, that’s where I come from,’ Riddle exclaims.

As if fuelled by the information, he grabs Harry by the wrist and begins to sprint down the street; all the while, he talks and talks.

‘… and I grew up in Whitechapel. Wool’s Orphanage, if you must know. A soft touch like you wouldn’t have lasted a day there, Harry.’

Harry shakes his head, exasperated. It has just occurred to him that they needn’t run at all. It’s the Limbo; they could probably teleport themselves wherever they liked. But they’re going so fast now it’s all Harry can focus his mind on: the speed, the wind in his hair and Riddle, his small, cold hand holding Harry’s.

It’s almost like flying. Harry can feel himself becoming lighter with each step forward, with each memory left behind. He forgets his own death – the second one … then the first – he forgets the horrors of the war and the people he lost.

Around them, the tidy suburban streets of Surrey blur, blend, into the cobblestoned confusion that is the East End, which Riddle navigates with the elegance of an alley cat.

‘We’re almost there,’ he says, before immediately launching into another one of his dark anecdotes about the exorcist whom he’d named his archnemesis since he was six.

Harry’s usually put off by gobby people, but somehow Riddle is growing on him. Maybe it's because Riddle's actually quite hilarious. Maybe it’s because of his endless energy; how vital and unapologetic he still is after being told that there’s something wrong with him his whole life.

‘I’d like to come here again sometime,’ Harry says as they outrun the old warehouses and backstreets; the red brick lanes and ivy-clad walls. ‘With you. On the other side.’

At that Riddle’s face breaks into a wide smile, a genuine one. ‘On the other side,’ he agrees, a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘Why not? I’ll show you around.’

Later, at the white platform where a train stands waiting for them, Harry finds a one-way ticket in his front pocket. On it says: 01 - SEP - 1938.

21052024 | @microficmay | life & death

#microficmay2024 #tomarry #tomarrymort #tomarry fanfic #harry potter #tom riddle

130 notes · View notes

99problemsandallofthemarefandoms · 8 months ago

Text

Puppyshipping ramblings

I like to imagine that Kaiba's need to slap his name on everything would translate to a relationship. Not outwardly possessive (cause like who could he lose to when he is rich, hot and a genius) but instead unconsciously protective.

So he would just end up dressing Joey in Kaiba corp t-shirts or he would buy "himself" hoodies and Joey would appropriate them. I love when one person is a clothes thief. I just imagine Joey grabbing something from a drawer and throwing it on not caring as long as it fits. Kaiba can do nothing to stop him nor would he want to. (He will not admit how cute Joey looks)

Matching accessories when they go out and dress fancy cause Joey insists on going with Kaiba to some of his fancy business parties (a. just cause he is spoiled for attention b. the food is really good) which surprisingly the snooty business people find Joey amusing. Partially cause he has bard level charisma and he cleans up well while trying his best so Kaiba will bring him to more.

Instead of a necklace I think it would be cute if he got Joey a keychain that matched his and Mokuba's. He never says anything about the significance but Joey thinks its so cute and sweet then spends the rest of the week showing it off.

I love possessiveness but honestly Kaiba is too confident for that. Joey could be but I think his whole emotional development from the early chapters would have him put a big deal of trust in Kaiba to not worry about the masses throwing themselves at Kaiba. Plus with Kaiba's attitude to people he is not interested in is a big confidence boost when he can easily get the oh so important business man's attention without having to schedule a meeting. (Ok Joey can just walk in but since he had been granted VIP privileges at KC after an incident with some rookie guards he tends to schedule ahead just cause he is a good BF.)

Secretary has Joey on speed dial for Kaiba's bad days when he gets in the mood to start firing people. Kaiba wouldn't really cause that's a loss in man power and it takes too much time to vet employees but those bad days make the other workers stressed.

(I still can not find the damned fic that put this idea in my head) Kaiba starts collecting Red-eyes merch to match the Blue-eyes merch. Its starting to bug him not all of the statuettes have a matching counter part. (Joey finds this super fucking sweet. Since there is not enough Red-eyes merch he arranged the few Kaiba did find to have at lest 3 Blue-eyes around each one. Joey finds it hilarious that Red-eyes has a haram. Kaiba refuses to comment the new arrangement.)

I stan Joey being able to cook. Nothing too fancy but its good. I imagine its from having to take care of himself and working odd jobs some of which landed him in a kitchen or two. Also from these jobs he has a random amalgamation of knowledge. Nothing like any fancy computer stuff but he knows how to take care of a garden, could build you porch and the like.

#puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #kaijou

57 notes · View notes

tunastime · 6 months ago

Text

Love in the Time of Calculation

as promised: the first chapter of the ranchers SEN fic! this fic takes place inside the au I created for Stretching Endless Night. I'm hoping posting this first chapter will actually get me to. write the rest of it. since I've got so much of it written. jazz hands!! enjoy!

In order to continue supplying food for a growing station, Commander Tango Tek, second to the head of engineering on the space station Prometheus, takes a six month study with the Empire-2 station at the behest of his admiral. There, he meets their botanist and horticulturist, Jimmy, a man he's only communicated with in communiques, voice memos, and documents. When they meet for the first time face-to-face, Tango realizes they both have something very interesting in common. In the face of all odds, two androids fall deeply, horribly in love. (6711 words)

Tango flips a switch on his navigation panel.

“It would be funny,” he says, slowly, enunciating as the recorder picks him up. “If I were to start these with some outlandish startdate. I would find it hilarious, I think, but I don’t know how many other people would. So…

Stardate 2105.47: I’ve just made brief contact with the Ring-style Space Station known as the Empire-dash-2. After discussion of docking procedure, I was forwarded the…passkey for the docking sequence and I should be arriving within two hours of my current time. That time is…in hour format…8:07pm. Lookin’ forward to meeting them, as much as they’re probably lookin’ forward to meeting me. I’ve never spoken to them in person—it’s all been electronic. So…it’ll be interesting, to say the least!” He nods, feeling some inclination to sigh—despite there being no way to. Motions he’d learned and copied from his peers.

“Thus begins my month-long stay with E-dash-2. I can only hope some work with hydroponics actually gets me somewhere. They tell me the guy’s a genius, so I’m inclined to believe them.”

Tango jabs his finger against the stop recording button. After a beat, the small, LCD screen flashes SENT in dark, bold letters. Leaning back in his chair, Tango folds his arms over his chest, and sets his boots on his console. The ship around him hums faintly, enough to be heard if he pays attention to it. As he leans back, he surveys the inside of his ship, the LTS-111, the small craft that he called home. In comparison to other ships on the Prometheus, it’s smaller, built for short term travel between locations, a cool, dark grey inside. There’s two swivel chairs at the helm, a large front, port window, overlain with his control panel, above and below his chair. Behind him, a door opens to a short hallway—mess hall and his room, just a plain, grey-white with one bunk. There’s a crate with his belongings, of which there are few, a plant on the windowsill to keep him sane. The mess is devoid of food and drink. It’s a luxury he doesn’t need. It’s nice when he can, but it’s nothing but an experience for him. Nothing to be gained from poorly made HASA meals full of crude protein. The edge of his boot catches the lip of the console, pulling at the rubber. He’s tucked his flight suit into his boots. His eyes follow the bright red and gold stripe down the side—division colors. Commander, engineering and technology. On his sleeve there would be the same designation, as was on all of his uniforms. Even the plain black, well fit shirt underneath, even his boots. HASA; Commander. Luckily his boots didn’t have a commander or engineering tag. If he felt so inclined to sand off the small rubber HASA branding he could.

His eyes follow a line across the ceiling, to the small strip of light that brightens the room. He runs his fingers over the seam in his sleeve—habit, again, but he’s not sure from whom.

The hour passes slowly. Tango spins simulations in his mind, projects from the ship's computer the schematics of E-2. He can see the docking station there on the map and traces out the line from there to the botanical garden. He spends time memorizing that path, and out to other locations, and rolling the names of his new compatriots around in his language acquisition program. None of these things are foreign to him—he’s built for new experiences, new learning opportunities. He can feel where known things end and new begins, and craves to fill the space, often and continuously. When that hour ends, there’s a tinny beep from his communications panel. He looks over the message displayed.

LTS-111 prepare docking sequence.

Tango dials the coordinates into his navigation system, overriding the current charting program to pilot into the docking bay. As he does, a crackling voice jumps to life.

“LTS-111, this is Fwhip, Commander of E-2. Do you copy?”

“E-2, this is Commander Tek of Prometheus. I copy. The Rift is ready for docking procedure.”

“Commander!” The voice—Fwhip—laughs. “It’s good to have you. Glad to hear you made it safely.”

Tango nods to himself.

“Myself as well. Looking forward to meeting you all.”

The line clicks out. Tango resettles in his chair, sitting up straight, taking in the sound of Fwhip’s voice, the designation, the information. He files that away.

The curve of E-2 comes into view, stark white and grey, glittering gold where the paneling reflects light. He watches as the shining craft sits suspended amidst stars, its own field of gravity and oxygen and life shining a faint blue in the light of the nearby sun. He feels that warmth through the front viewscreen, despite the gold foil and shade to block it. It’s nice. In the closest approximation to nice he could get. He pulls the seat’s harness over his chest, snaps it in place as he begins standard docking procedure—slowing to a noticeable crawl, flipping on his communications panels, and switching to reserve thrusters. The Rift was made with older tech, anything he could salvage and amass from ships being decommissioned. It functioned—better than the standard HASA ships and was fully compliant—well beyond what he’d ever expected. Though he wasn’t quite human enough to have real expectations.

The ship settles into a launch port on the far side of E-2. Tango takes his time collecting his belongings. He wanders into his room as the ship powers down, settling into a dull hum. He repacks his bag, giving a quick once-over of the bunk before he lifts the trunk into his arms, the weight negligible. He settles the plant in the corner of his bag, making sure it’s settled before he slings the bag over one shoulder and sets the crate on one hip. His startup keycard sits in his front shirt pocket, and his credentials badge in his back pocket.

The first thing he notices as he enters the launchpad for E-2 is how clean and bright it is. The launchpad is devoid of anyone working, and there are certainly no other docking ships. The two other ships Tango can see are relatively new and clean, parked closely together. He glances around the space, looking for any sign of movement. His footsteps echo quietly around the empty chamber. To his right, beyond a stabilizing membrane is the winking stars of space. There’s a planet in the far distance, but it’s much too far to see anything notable.

The bay door to his ship closes as he steps toward the winding steps up to the lofted second floor. He starts up the steps, lifting the crate into his arms.

“Commander Tek!”

Tango startles. Looking up to the second floor, he sees someone lean over the railing, waving enthusiastically. Tango squints at him, surrounded by the white facade of the walls around him.

“Commander Fwhip?” Tango says, cocking his head to the side. He sees Fwhip nod again.

Tango smiles a little, eyebrows furrowing despite it. Fwhip. The intonation matches what he heard crackling over the communicator of his ship, though, of course, without the static. He’s wearing stark black, with a large diagonal line cut in red across his chest, up to his collar, and over his shoulders. Tango realizes for a moment that his jumpsuit may not have been the prime choice for meeting a commanding officer—no matter the rank or office. Especially considering that he was supposed to be both a liaison and a researcher.

But as Fwhip meets Tango on the landing, he shakes his hand firmly. There’s a spark, somewhere, in his eye, his heart rate elevated as Tango greets him. He’s winded, too, like he ran all the way here. Tango feels a piece of information in his mind click unexpectedly into place.

“Commander Fwhip,” he says, copying the smile Fwhip is giving him more fully. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please,” Fwhip laughs. “Commander, the pleasure is ours. Congratulations on your most recent publication.”

Tango nods. Somewhere, something kicks in his chest, just the faintest flicker of painful phantom sensation. It took him two years to publish that paper—and it was a damn shame he had to die to get it published in full, despite Doc and Etho’s help.

Fwhip’s hand is warm in his, enough to notice the change in sensation between them. He can feel Fwhip’s heartbeat in his palm and the way his breathing stutters for a second when Tango and him shake hands. Fwhip looks down at his hand. Tango lets go first, the noticeable white lines on his skin pulsating in and out. His hand feels stiff as he stretches it, feeling metal extend and retract.

“You’re…” Fwhip starts. Tango sees him frown, just the smallest change between his eyebrows.

“An android?” Tango finishes. He watches color rise to Fwhip’s face as Tango tilts his head, expression neutral, amused, even. Fwhip laughs, even if it’s born from a touch of embarrassment. Tango hums something low, a version of a laugh he can manage to sound normal.

“It’s not strange, if that’s what you think I think,” Fwhip says, leading Tango toward the stairs. “Unexpected maybe, but—to be fair, they didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”

“That is very true,” Tango says. He feels that itch, then, that want to know, to delve deeper. He shifts the box in his arms as they round the stairs, reaching the upper platform. “I think most people are surprised to find that I’m an android.”

“That’s a shame—you’re brilliant for more reasons than just being an android,” Fwhip says, and the click comes back again, like he’s cracking a combination lock one number at a time.

“I appreciate that,” Tango says, inclining his head. If there were anything in his face to indicate blush, he would be bright red. He hums instead, tilting his head back and forth in a dismissive sort of shake. Fwhip backsteps to walk by his side, raising his eyebrows over his glasses.

“So,” he starts, motioning to the door. “Did you have any questions about the ship as you settle in?”

Tango looks down at his shoes for a second, letting the thought spin in his head. He nods, just once.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d love to hear more about the botany division—I got a real short mission briefing with Admiral Xisuma before I left. I know we were in a hurry to find the sweet spot of travel.”

“Of course,” Fwhip says. “Lining up that parallel can be real difficult if you don’t time it right.”

“The Admiral’s got an eye for interesting navigation patterns.”

Fwhip laughs, nodding his head.

“Glad to hear you’re in good hands,” he says, opening the door for them. Tango follows him into a brightly lit hallway, lined in white and cream and bright floor lights. Along the edges are colored lines, intersecting and dividing—red, blue, green—to locations Tango can’t see. He follows Fwhip down a corridor, further from the launch platform. Tango knows this layout—further down the hall is a passenger elevator meant for the science team. They’ll take it down four flights to the belly of the ship, where many of the labs rest, tucked away. The ship's rings orbit each other, so he’ll be in this ring for as long as he’s doing research. They’re relatively straight forward, broken into divided sections inside. He traces the pattern out in his mind as Fwhip begins to speak.

“Well, to give you a station briefing, our main team fluctuates, but I’d say we have about 15 to 20 of us at any given time on command, and then a hundred of personnel and staff besides ourselves. I work closely with Lieutenants Scott and Pix, and both of them know our botanist pretty well,” he turns to Tango as he calls for the elevator, pressing his keycard to the small panel next to it. The numbers above the sliding doors illuminate in orange, bright and blocky. Tango raises his eyebrows.

“His name is Jimmy,” Fwhip continues. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade, but he’s incredibly good at what he does. I’ll let you two get acquainted when we get down there.” The elevator doors slide open. Fwhip gestures Tango inside before he himself steps in, pressing the button for their floor. Tango sets his trunk at his feet, toeing it off to the side and out of the way. “He spends most of his time down there, so you may not see him much at all besides when you’re working.”

Tango hums. He screws up his face into an approximation of thinking, running the words over in his head. A junior lieutenant. A higher officer, for certain, but for him to be teaching Tango—there feels like there should be a catch. Tango pulls at the seams of the phrasing, the intonation. His eyebrows furrow.

Fwhip answers his question before it leaves his mouth.

“He basically revitalized the hydroponics system overnight—nothing’s changed in the watering or feeding system, but the plants grow like crazy now,” Fwhip folds his arms, glancing over at Tango as Tango folds his hands behind his back. “I think it was his specification for a while, so as soon as he got here, he requested the transfer, and his work brought him up the grade.”

“That’s impressive,” Tango says, a touch quiet. The only other person he knew who’d ever done something like that had been Mumbo, and most of his ideas were feats of engineering so large they required a three-room modified lab space and a blast chamber. Meridian supplied that—though Prometheus—himself included—was sad to lose him to their sister station, especially after how long he worked with Tango.

“He’s written a paper on it—it’s in the works of being reviewed now,” Fwhip says. “I don’t know how likely it is to go through, though.”

Tango hums again.

“Why’s that?”

Fwhip shrugs. “He’s just not a nice guy to work with,” he says. “And I don’t mean that to be rude, either.”

The elevator doors open. They spill out into a lackluster hallway, still the same bleach white as the floors above. Taking a sharp right, they follow the curved edge of the ship down the green line, toward a series of crew cabins. Fwhip gestures toward a room closer to the middle of their row. As they stand there for a moment, he offers Tango a keycard.

“We got you a room—well before we knew that you…probably wouldn’t need the bedspace,” he says, shaking his head apologetically. Tango waves his hand. “You’re welcome to it, though.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take it,” Tango says, trying that smile again. Fwhip smiles back this time, one that touches his eyes, and makes Tango smile harder.”I like having my own space. Normally I have an office, so this’ll do just fine, I think.”

He presses the keycard to the door as Fwhip lifts his crate into his arms, struggling under the weight for a moment. The door slides open. Inside, as the soft yellow lights raise to bright, is a sparsely furnished room. Fwhip carries his crate into the room, setting it at the foot of the double bed. The room is small, clean, tidy. He turns in a small circle as Fwhip sets the crate down, nodding his head.

“This is great,” Tango says, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

Fwhip nods, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says. Moving past him, he gestures back to the hallway. “I’ll be forwarding you the ship changelog, so you know who’s on shift at a given time, and when meals are, if you have any interest.”

“That sounds great,” Tango says, moving with him to the hall. He follows Fwhip back down the hall, back towards the elevator. They diverge at a second hallway and down a third, following the winding corridor through the ship’s interiors. The walls shift from opaque to translucent as they follow the path down, with more and more people shuffling about. Fwhip moves through the hall easily—Tango navigates with a bit more difficulty, skirting past doors sliding open and bright lights and the new rush of people. As they weave through, Fwhip says:

“Figured I’d show you down to the lab,” he checks his wrist, a brief flash of numbers and notifications that Tango doesn’t quite catch fully. “I’ve got a bit before I have to be back at the bridge.”

Tango hums.

“Great—I’ll…hopefully be able to find, uh, Jimmy?”

Fwhip nods.

“Mhm—” he says. They pause at a lab closer to the end of the corridor. Through the high ceiling and tinted glass, Tango can see the warm yellow and purple light that floods the space. The lab stretches further down the hallway and out of sight. Fwhip tilts his head toward the lab.

“This is it?” Tango asks.

“This is the one,” Fwhip says. He steps back from the door, letting Tango tap his card, the door sliding open for him. It stays open for a moment as Tango steps in. Fwhip checks his wrist again.

“I’ll let you find him,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll get a briefing before you leave to unpack.”

Tango nods, smiling again. The warmth of the room starts to roll over him as he stands still—cooling kicks on to adjust, like a sigh out of his chest.

“Thank you, Commander,” he says. Fwhip nods, dismissing him, before the door shuts between them, and Tango stands, alone, in a room full of plants.

He picks his way around the lab for a long while. The quiet is nice, the sound of air circulating and the soft hum of lights and electronics. He hadn’t run this particular section over in his schematics—something about it almost felt invasive. He wanted to learn it for himself, standing in the center of the room, hands braced on the work table. The equipment portion of the lab is its own self-contained room at the front of the lab—big enough for a table, several workstations, shelves of equipment. He rounds the table as he spots a secondary sliding door, obscured by the semi-translucent, white glass.

Tango presses his loaned keycard to the scanner, watching the door slide open. Stepping inside, he stands amongst a huge lab filled with rows of vegetables, aquatic plants, and small trees. He can see potatoes, carrots, beets, neat and lined in suspended troughs of water and sitting in cups on the floor. Along the walls are digging and planting tools organized haphazardly, strewn about in small piles. The air is warm and humid as he walks his way around a series of rows—it almost feels like its own planet, like the atmosphere alone were thick enough to taste.

Tango walks along a row, watching the plants with a careful consideration, as if they would move, or reach out to him, or something. But they’re just plants—unmoving beside the slight wave in the airflow. He reaches out after a moment, brushing one of the leaves, feeling it between his fingers. It’s rhubarb. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen rhubarb before. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many plants before.

Moving around the hydroponics, Tango wanders around the other side of the lab, watching as it stretches out and further back, rows of plants in tight lines, purple lighting and tubes for irrigation running across the ceiling. He turns into a slow circle, moving back through the rows as he does. The rows loop around back to the supply stations, where Tango walks backward, trying to see the end of the lab, where else it could lead, where else he could explore.

His foot catches under him, sliding out as his knees buckle and he lurches sideways.

He yelps loudly, flailing as he falls, losing his balance and smacking into the shelf behind him. A handful of ceramic plants pots and glass beakers fall with him, smashing to the ground as the shelf comes loose. Tango scrambles up, slipping again as he lands on his hands and knees, fumbling as he tries to scoop the glass into a reasonable, unnoticeable pile, to fix the shovels that must’ve fallen with him, the stacks of gardening gloves under his right boot. He mutters to himself as he does, babbling as his mind whirs with simulations. They were always there—right? That’s fine! He tries to stack a pair of gloves back on the shelf, watching them slide directly off.

Shoot. Shoot! Damn it!

“Shit—” he mumbles.

“Hello?”

A voice calls out from the other side of the room. Tango hears a door shut. He pushes the broken shards of a pot near his knee together, like he could even try and fix the shattered pot. He searches wildly for the voice as he does.

“Hi—” he manages, voice warbling unexpectedly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” the voice comes again. “Who…”

Tango follows a shape through the row of plants as a man in grey steps around toward him. He blinks, owlish and confused, as he stares at Tango. Tango can see the name stitched into his quarter-zip.

Jimmy.

“I’m so sorry—” Tango starts again, but the man—Jimmy—is already halfway to kneeling in front of him, taking the broken pot from him, scooping the rest of the shards into his hands. Tango realizes, all at once, that he’s still sitting on the ground, surrounded by the carnage of him falling unceremoniously over into the stand. He starts gathering the tools around him into his arms.

“It’s…it’s alright—” he sighs, a trickle of confusion, of agitation, leaking into his voice. “Walk me through it, what happened?”

“I walked into it—” Tango says, feeling foolish all of a sudden. It’s not a tangible feeling. He just knows something is churning and curling in him and he can’t place what. “One minute I was turnin’ around lookin’ at this place and the next—wack.”

Jimmy hums under his breath, something amused. Tango blinks at him as he rights the shelf and replace the items from the floor.

“Wack?” he says, starting to laugh. “I…yeah. Sorry, I don’t organize things very well, it seems like.”

“I don’t either, I’ll be honest…” Tango says, shaking his head. “You’re Jimmy, then?”

Tango scrambles up with glass still in his hands and Jimmy turns back to him as he looks around for somewhere to put it. Jimmy nods his head over to a waste bin, dropping the shards of clay pot into it.

“Mm,” Jimmy nods. “You’re…?”

Tango makes a half-sound as he turns back to him, waving his hands.

“Commander Tek,” he says, sticking out his hand, smiling a bit lopsided. It feels lopsided at least. He’s trying to copy what he knows, and he thinks he’s failing. “Er, Tango. You don’t have to call me Commander.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows.

“Ah—Fwhip told me you were coming,” he says, tilting his head a little, something like a smile coming to his face. “You’re sure just Tango?”

Tango nods.

“Too fancy with the whole thing. I prefer just Tango, anyway.”

Jimmy smiles in full. The action alone splits his face in half, stretching up to his eyes. Tango copies him, after a beat, something that falters just a little bit as he does.

Jimmy takes Tango’s hand. As he does, a buzz of electricity spikes up Tango’s arm and to his elbow, pooling there, zinging cool and bright. Tango startles, jolting back, making a small, sharp sound that gets lost as Jimmy audibly yelps. It didn’t hurt, but it felt new. Tango likes new.

He feels something wash over him, even as he jolts—memory, knowledge, understanding, like an imprint of knowing the man before him before he even did. Jimmy blinks, a furrow coming between his eyebrows. Tango, for a split second, wonders if the feeling is mutual.

“Sorry,” he blurts. The static shock dissipates as he shakes out his hand. “Sorry, I might still have glass….”

Tango looks over his hands, prodding at the silicon for any shards left there. There aren’t any, though—he even brushes them together, trying to feel for anything. Tango glances back at Jimmy. He’s looking him over, that curious, owlish expression on his face again. His mouth quirks up a little, the sides of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an android,” he says.

Tango’s eyes flick over his face for a moment. It’s completely symmetrical, brown eyes clear and bright, hair neatly parted. His movements are smooth as he steps back and adjusts his sleeves and reaches to gently brush something from Tango’s jumpsuit.

“So are you,” Tango finally says, mouth quirking up. His mouth tastes like static electricity.

“Huh,” Jimmy says, soft, thoughtful. The edges of his mouth fully curl up in a way so human and so foreign. Tango catalogs it immediately. “That’s so interesting.”

Tango huffs out an approximation of a laugh—which causes Jimmy to laugh in earnest. The tension dissolves as he laughs, and Tango feels his shoulders drop. That tingling feeling still hasn’t left Tango’s hand. He wonders for a moment if it ever will, or if every time they brush together it’ll light up like static, or if maybe they just happened to be carrying just enough electrical discharge to shock each other. Tango hopes it doesn’t happen again. He’d like to be friendly without risking a shock.

“So,” Tango starts as they stand together in the hydroponic farm. “Is there a reason ESA lets you use terracotta and glass in space?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“They want it to feel more like Earth,” he hums, amused, turning away from Tango. He wanders a bit before Tango startles to catch up, following him through to the lab room. Jimmy pushes up the sleeves of his ESA sweatshirt. “Not that I would know what that feels like…though I do like it.”

They step through to the lab with the door hissing shut behind them. The humidity and heat follow them in, clinging to Tango’s jumpsuit. He can hear Jimmy mumbling to himself under his breath as he circles the large lab table in search of something. Tango tracks him with his eyes, pausing in the space where Jimmy once was, folding his arms. Jimmy fumbles around for a moment, digging through his cabinets, with Tango watching over his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Tango says, eyes following him. Jimmy hums, nodding in response. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen Earth myself, either.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimmy says. When he turns back, he’s holding a data pad, a thumb drive and a blank badge. He lines them all up on the table, sitting next to each other. “Have you ever been planetside?”

Tango nods.

“A few times with my old crew,” he starts, waving his hands back and forth. “Some dry and dusty ones for sure. Not too exciting.”

Jimmy tilts his head a bit. He’s still smiling, and Tango, for a moment, can’t take his eyes off it. He isn’t sure anyone’s ever smiled at him for that long, or maybe he’s misreading it—emotions were a fickle, strange thing. Maybe Jimmy was simply happy.

Tango leans against the table, back pressing to the side of it, glancing down at the data pad and keycard for a moment. Jimmy looks away as Tango catches his eye. Tango thinks he sees him flush as he turns back around to the computer.

“They haven’t really briefed me on why you’re here,” Jimmy says. “Why’d they send you?”

“To E-1? We’re uh…our science director was looking for a secondary project to help bolster our food supplies—stretch it out a little longer?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Our admiral’s been in contact with Fwhip a few times conversationally, but we normally reach out to the Meridian, a station in our system, for help, but they weren’t having any hydroponics success. So…here I am.”

Jimmy nods absently as he continues typing.

“Hopefully I can give you something useful to take back,” he says, glancing up to Tango. Tango nods, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, they say you’re the best,” he offers. It’s true—everything Pearl had told him seemed to point directly to whoever was running the botanical experimentation lab on E-2. And here he was, an android, standing in front of Tango.

“Do they?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhm!”

“That’s very nice of them…I uh, I’ve got a badge for you,” Jimmy says, sliding the piece of plastic toward him. Tango picks it up, turning it in his fingers as he listens. It has a small symbol on it, like an overlapping square and a green stripe all the way around it. When he looks back to Jimmy’s face for a moment, he notices that same green stripe around his upper arm. Green. Science. It was fitting. He fits that bit of information right next to what he knows Prometheus’ color to be: nearly the same shade.

“It’ll get you into this lab and ones like it, um, all the way down this hall,” Jimmy unlocks the data pad, pushing it toward him. “And you can record anything you’d like on this pad.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great, actually” Tango says. He tucks the card into his pocket, where it rests against his chest. The data pad is blank, no notes, no sketches, and no documents. Just the time and date. From what he can recognize, he’s been aboard for about two hours. “Is, uh, is there somewhere we can share notes, or should I be handing this off to you periodically?”

“Whatever you write there will also be stored on the lab computer,” Jimmy says, gesturing back to the screens behind him. “Either of us can access it at any time. It should recognize you as having access to the console, so there shouldn’t be too many problems with that.”

Jimmy studies him for a brief moment before he picks up the thumb drive, twisting it in his fingers. Tango watches the movement, eyes flicking between it, and the pad, and the screen.

“So,” Jimmy starts again. “I can’t say I was expecting an android, but that does make this whole process a lot easier.”

He holds out the thumb drive—Tango holds out his hand. The small bit of plastic that falls into Tango’s palm is lightweight and bright white. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, frowning just a little.

“What’s this for?” he asks, setting the data pad on the table again. His hands feel an itch to turn the drive around in them, nervous ticks surfacing as he receives data and writes to disk. The humidity, Jimmy’s expression, the curious glint in his eye, the buzz of excitement he can nearly feel in the air. For an android, Jimmy was certainly animated, certainly running high on emotion. Tango could reach out and grab it, if he knew he would catch something.

Jimmy nods a few times, leaning on the table in front of him.

“That right there,” he says, pointing at the drive. “Is all of my research. That way you can just—” he mimes a plugging motion, patting the back of his neck. If Tango’s chest could cave, it would have, as he feels some gear shudder and start again. “Get it all.”

Tango blinks. His vision stutters for a moment, fading out on the edge as he tries to process Jimmy’s comment, his voice. He feels that tug at his eyebrows as they furrow, a copy of a motion he’d seen so many times on so many faces. Jimmy’s research rests in the palm of his hand, still cold, despite the heat leaching from Tango’s synthetic skin.

“I think—” Tango says. What a stupid turn of phrase. He knows—he’s not thinking this time. He knows. “I can’t do that.”

Jimmy hums, face morphing into concern for a moment. Tango sees how his posture stiffens, almost a gut reaction to the change in Tango’s voice. Write to disk. Catalog. He softens his stance as Jimmy pipes up.

“What d’y’mean?”

“I think I’d rather just learn it from you,” Tango says, closing his fist around the thumb drive. “I’ll keep this, but I would like to learn from you, if that’s alright.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, nodding a few times. His dark eyes go wide, too. They flick across Tango’s face, looking for something, before they land on the table in front of him as Jimmy raps his fingers against the plastic top. Tango tucks the data drive into his pocket, where it rests with the keycard, sticking his hands in his pockets to give them something to do.

“Oh—I mean—I, sure. Sure, we can do that,” Jimmy stutters, shaking his head. “Yeah, that should be fine, you should be able to learn that way.”

“I hope so,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy nods with him, that color briefly back in his cheeks. “I’d at least like to try. It’s what I’m known for, honestly.”

“Mm,” Jimmy says, face settling on that half-pleased, half-curious look. “Sure. That would be nice, I think. I don’t know how much I have to teach, but I can try.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty, Mr. Plant Guy,” Tango quips, patting him on the shoulder as he rounds around him. Jimmy laughs. The tingling sensation of touch before has gone now, and the new touch offers nothing but the sensation of soft sweater fabric, of coolness from Jimmy, and a brief flicker of information that he doesn’t quite catch. It feels like energy he can’t process. A line of code that doesn’t slot itself into place. He gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he pulls away, gesturing to the door.

“Do you think you might be able to walk me back to my cabin?” his shoulders shrink a fraction. He tries to quickly run the simulation in his mind, etching out the turns of the hallways in the belly of the science department. All he can remember are faces, half-recognizable from research and names partially unobscured by association. “I lost track of how many turns Commander Fwhip made.”

Jimmy shrugs, nods, patting the table as he pulls away.

“Sure,” he says, fishing his keycard from around his neck. “My cabin is close to that area, so I know the way back pretty well—-”

“You have a room?”

The door slides open in front of Tango, the cool air of the hallway flooding into the room. He steps through, into the empty, well lit space, with its green stripe and green carpeting. The white-yellow lighting smooths out the edges of the walls around them, dotted with windows of the station’s central core as they slowly rotated around it. Jimmy pauses for a moment to watch as Tango does, before he nudges him with his elbow. Tango turns to follow.

“I like the bed,” Jimmy says, making a pleasant, almost chirping sound. “And the sleep cycle. And a space for my things that isn’t the lab.”

Tango nods.

“Our secondary engineering lead gets onto me when I don’t rest, but I prefer to not have to,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, waving one hand about. That gesture was from Doc, who loved to make things more nonchalant than they had to be, gesturing with his part-plastic, part-metal arm. “It wastes time.”

“You’re a busy man, Tango,” Jimmy says. He pauses just as he’s about to say Tango, like he had meant to say Commander, but had skipped the instinct. It stutters as he speaks. Tango feels a little bit of a twist, somewhere in the gears of his chest. Maybe everyone should just call him Tango. It felt a lot better, somehow. It felt earned.

“I try to be,” Tango says, waving his hand again. “I’m built for continuous learning—neuroplasticity. It’s what I’m meant to do…kind of.”

“Interesting…” Jimmy hooks a right at a fork. Tango notes it. “I don’t think I’ve met an android without a base program. And it was HASA who decided that?”

Tango nods.

“That was the plan, anyway. So far, it’s worked out alright. I have no issues, our technicians make sure I’m running smoothly, I can run my own diagnostics as far as I’m aware. And…I get to take back knowledge to our ship,” he sticks his free hand back in his pocket. They take a left, following the curving wall. “That’s a win to me.”

“That does sound nice,” Jimmy says, frowning a little, mostly in his voice than on his face. As the wall evens out, Jimmy slows to a stop. Before them, on the leftmost side, are a row of doors, which Tango recognizes. He marks down their exact location, how the wall hugs the left, looping back around on the far side. Jimmy splays his arm out, gesturing to the doors. Tango manages a smile.

“Thank you,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy hums.

“Of course, glad I could help,” he says. He looks pleased, now, none of the nervous flit that he had when they’d first met. Tango, too. He feels settled, somehow, like he was already beginning to understand the space around him, already acclimated to new gravity and new routine. Jimmy’s easy smile and tone of voice made that all the easier to do.

As Tango steps away, toward his door, he turns back to Jimmy, who’s folded his arms over his chest. Something’s there, in Tango’s chest, maybe just a trick of mechanics, something he can’t really place. It smooths out any bumps in logic programming. It makes things even, whatever the thing in his chest is. Jimmy makes a noise, and Tango’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Y’know—not to jump ahead or anything, since I know we’ve just met. But if you wanted to, my cabin is a bit closer to the lab. If you ever feel like you want a roommate, you’re more than welcome to stay there,” Jimmy starts, clasping his hands together. The small smile on his face hasn’t really faded, and his voice is even with curiosity. “There’s—there’s only one bed, but you said you don’t sleep. So it should be fine.”

Jimmy continues to babble, now, eyes flicking down to the patches at Tango’s knees.

“I can always request you to the room next to it—I think that one’s unoccupied, too. If you ever want to sleep, that is. But you can let me know. Figured it might be nice to have a roommate so you’re not lonely,” he finishes, shrugging a little. Then he startles, blinks, and waves his hands. “Unless you like being alone.”

Tango tries to make a sound to dissuade him from that idea, but it gets caught in his programming and his vocal filter and it kind of sounds like a wheeze, or maybe a laugh, but he shakes his head several times, copying Jimmy’s easy smile from before.

“No, no…” he assures. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’ll…I’ll let Fwhip know that I’d like to do that.”

Jimmy visibly relaxes, and the smile comes back to his face, and he laughs a little, an actual, natural laugh.

“Sure thing…” Jimmy scrunches his nose. “Roomie.”

Tango feels something flip-flop over as he jumps, shaking his head again.

“Don’t call me that—” he manages, before Jimmy waves his hands again and says:

“I’m just joking, Tango!” and reaches out to clasp his shoulder. That rush of static only prickles for a moment, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. Tango feels it trickle down his elbow and to his wrist as Jimmy steps away from him. “Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you at 0700.”

Tango nods, realizing he’s still smiling just a bit, even as he steps into his room and the door slides shut behind him. He stands at the threshold, with his back to the wall, for a long moment, letting the memories play in his head as he does. The quiet hum of his room and the orange-yellow lighting soothes his otherwise spinning mind to a controlled simulation. Even still, Tango’s hand and arm prickle faintly with sensation he can’t place, and a warmth in his chest he’s not sure he fully understands.

Pulling away from the door and into his room, Tango furrows his eyebrows and starts an internal diagnostic.

46 notes · View notes

gildedoak · 10 months ago

Text

There are days when I go back to my roots of drawing extremely pretty men and elaborate outfits and jewelry.

"Pirates of Leviathan" is one of my favorite seasons of Dimension 20 - can you tell? "A Court of Fey and Flowers" is right up there with it. Can't get enough of it. I really hope the Bad Kids swing by Leviathan at some point again. Like, Garthy O'Brien was briefly mentioned in FHJY Adventuring Party Ep1, and I went FERAL. (I wanna know more about Ayda's relationship with Garthy! Embarrassing baby stories, general lore, I DON'T CARE.)

Needless to say, I adore Garthy O'Brien and Jack Brakkow. It was hilarious to watch Matt and Brennan flirt with each other. But even more than that, I love a good revenge/glow-up story, and Captain Brakkow had a great one.

(Image description under the cut!)

[Image description: Garthy O'Brien stands with Captain Jack Brakkow at their side, his hand on their left hip. They are gesturing off to the left, as if showing Jack the sights. Garthy, a half-orc aasimar with golden eyes, is wearing a plethora of intricately-made, gemstone-studded jewelry, comprised of: two upper arm bands, four bracelets, three rings, a choker, chandelier earrings, and an enormous Anatolian-style necklace that spans nearly from shoulder to shoulder. Jack Brakkow is a 7ft-tall ratfolk pirate captain wearing a loose, navy shirt, tan pants, and a teal captain's coat. There's a small silver charm of a crescent moon sickle hanging from his collar, marking him as the captain of the Harvest Moon. He also wears a golden belt buckle with mother-of-pearl inlay depicting a flower garden.

End image description]

52 notes · View notes

biteofcherry · 9 months ago

Note

Do Ruby Garden doms and subs have some fun nights like karaoke?

There's no karaoke at the Ruby Garden club. They're all about a different kind of fun and sounds 😆

But I guess if they're out as a group of friends, just having some random fun on the town, going for beers or smth, then they could go to a karaoke bar.

Steve isn't much into singing or being on the stage, but he'd use the opportunity to help Darling get out of her shell. He'd do a duet with her. Something classic and lovely, like Somethin' Stupid.

Curtis never sings. Ever. But Bucky definitely rocks the stage. He'd sing something rock-y and upbeat, I think. Maybe You shook me all night long.

Lloyd is a whore for spotlight and loves having fun. He'd sing something hilarious, with a silly choreography too. I bet he'd do I'm Too Sexy 😂

Andy probably sings only if he's roped into it by Birdie and only as a backup voice. He has a nice voice and can carry a tune, but isn't into vocal performances much. I imagine him singing with Birdie You're The One That I Want.

Ari choses something like Sex On Fire and obviously sings it with his shirt half unbuttoned, being a bit playful silly with his performance, while his voice gets that raspy-growly in the right parts.

Then there's Nick who shocks everyone and melts panties with his perfectly smooth, seductive Wicked Game. He gets the low and high notes perfect, too. Bonbon is a goner.

#Anonymous #Reply #Ruby garden #Ruby garden series #Steve rogers x reader #Ari levinson x reader #Curtis everett x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #Andy barber x reader #Nick fowler x reader #Lloyd hansen x reader

51 notes · View notes

foolishlovers · 8 months ago

Note

have you read any good human aus under 30k lately? 👀 just need something short to get through the new week

yessss i have!!

some good omens human AUs under 30k i’ve read recently:

Doctor, Can You Take Care Of My Snake? by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 4k)

Aziraphale is determined to hate the man who has brought a venomous snake, native to Australia, to his vet clinic.

Now, if only the man can stop being so charming and utterly besotted with her, this will be a lot easier.

[so so cute and so hilarious, i giggled all the way through this, new favourite for me]

How to Win the Heart of Your Handsome New Neighbor: A Plan in Six Steps by Dannye Chase (HolyCatsAndRabbits), HolyCatsAndRabbits (E, 5k)

Aziraphale wanted to get to know his neighbor. This was quite a natural thing for neighbors, he thought. However, it must be said that Aziraphale’s desire was rather more— desirous than might be normal. Because Crowley was gorgeous. Tall, slinky, and seductive in his black clothing, with fiery hair that hung around his face if it wasn’t put up. When he worked in his garden, he often wore just a pair of black athletic trousers and a thin little shirt that clung to his sweaty torso. So, yes, Aziraphale’s desire was desirous. But Crowley was so very shy.

[i just adore neighbour!AUs and this one was very lovely and entertaining]

Paradigm Shift by hakunahistata (E, 13k)

“Apologies, apologies! The time got away from me.” Aziraphale Fell entered the room brightly, a binder in one hand, tea mug in the other.

Crowley’s languid sprawl went rigid as the senior accounting analyst who had been the indulgent secret in the back of his mind took the seat opposite him.

Or, Crowley Pines at the Office: An AU.

[did anyone say bearded!aziraphale? come here, have a treat]

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (E, 21k)

As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam.

At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

[fake dating, my beloved!! this one was so sweet, crowley is totally oblivious]

#anon #answered #good omens #good omens human aus #good omens fanfic #good omens fic rec #aziracrow fanfic #foolish recs

40 notes · View notes

thesamoanqueen · 1 year ago

Text

Blackwater VI

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: Smut; Fingering; Bloodline Drama

A/N: I haven't updated this series for a while, but today is a special day, so some drama for daddy

Opening up to someone had always been an idea far from her mind, almost impossible due to all her fragil relationships, growing without a pack, a family and no home. Remembering the days when her family had broken up hurt her now too and she had very few times to say it, admitting that she was lost on her purpose was an absolute first time. Even Y/N had been surprised by that confession… but she had gotten through the moment with more control than she thought and all those distractions had helped.

Mate, her she-wolf reminded and Y/N shifted her eyes to the large bathroom mirror, realizing that she had reflexively bitten her lower lip and stopping just as quickly.

Yes, Roman had been an effective distraction. Very effective, honestly. And this time she couldn't even blame him. When she came out of the bathroom, finishing spreading lotion on her hands, he had just entered the room. His brown gaze went from the watch he was taking off, to her.

- Are you done? – his voice, low and soft like velvet, made her skin tingle.

She nodded, trying to stay in control and slipped under the covers. The sheets were fresh and when Roman finally took advantage of his shift in the bathroom, Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the contact on her bare parts. Her body temperature had been unstable for a while, probably due to the stress of those days, she switched from shivering to hot flashes and along with it, she seemed a bit unstable. She was used to those moments, they usually came at other times, for biological reasons, but she could handle them, she just needed to put pieces together and reorganize herself.

For a while she focused on her breathing, muscles stretching and the numbness of sleep slowly trying to take her elsewhere. Maybe without hurting, back in memories, when everything was simple, in another house with trees similar to those in the garden, surrounded by another family. Maybe with focus she could do it, maybe she could remember the sun’s warmth when she played by the river… the rain that always came unexpectedly… the smell of home. Everything looked so close…

Closer. Home.

Too close.

Her eyes widened suddenly. And not knowing how much time had passed, she turned inside the bed, to find him there too.

- Whats wrong? - Roman asked as he take off his shirt with a fluid gesture, tattoo fully exposed now, even if the light was dim.

Y/N saw it. She saw the line of his big shoulders. His broad chest that had widened thanks to the arms movement. Hair loose and dark like his beard. The abs half hidden by the sheet. Jesus, was he naked down there?!

- A nightmare?

He was joking. Or maybe provocative. Hilarious.

- You can't stay here – she didn't want to start arguing again, things were better.

- I cannot? - his voice was amused while he repeated it, one step ahead of the reaction he would have had earlier in the week, but he hadn't mentioned moving, quite the contrary.

His arms were spread out across the headboard of the bed and Y/N was making a serious effort to ignore the warmth his body was already emanating under the sheets.

- We won't sleep together – she said and once again Roman didn't move.

- It's my bed, I told you. Ain’t gonna stay on that sofa ever again.

Yes, was true and it had sincerely surprised her, because he didn't seem to have aptitude for such gestures, but he had just done it with her. Probably a lot depended on being mates, his wolf needed to assert his role, control her, guard her, the sofa had been a compromise to stay close to her and please her, but he had warned her, was true.

- Do you want me to stay there? Where have all those stories about alphas fixing nests for poor omegas gone? – she tried with a heavy breath and Roman frowned.

- I’ll not kick you out of your bed and I tought that there were no poor omegas around here.

Good mate.

Fuck… he wasn't missing. First that speech about her family, now he treated her with respect and she wasn't ready, she didn't expect it. She didn't want to let him win, but she was too grown up to make a scene and deep down there wasn't that much difference between being in the same room and being in the same bed... right?

Ignoring her omega’s urge to reward him for that perfect shot, she looked at him seriously for a moment. Eyes traveling down the sheets, studying every inch of big solid frame in the half-light, until they met his and that imperturbable expression.

- Keep your hands in place Ro – she finally warned him, sinking back between pillows, shoulders turned and sheets twisted up under her face.

- Hands? please… - she heard him tease, as he too settled down and something pulsed through her body, tightening around nothing.

Oh cmon!

Focusing on her breathing again, she forced herself to regain control. It was late and she still felt upset, but unexpectedly his presence next to her caused her less anxiety than she thought, it almost seemed to calm her down and slowly, her attention moved from her breathing to him, dragging her back into an heavy sleep, back into memories. She was hot… the sun? … there was a scent of home.

***

He'd woken up every night since he'd found her, searching the dark room for her figure to be sure she was still there, but that night hadn't happened. He had awakened at dawn, while she freed herself from his arms like a bomb squad, without a scene, although the previous night's recommendations had clearly gone to hell when, who knows which of them, had reached out, sleeping. The smell of her was everywhere in that bed and it was the same for the heat of her body. Now that she had tiptoed away, however, his skin was getting cold and his wolf was fidgeting. He had had a taste and now wanted more. It was a fixed thought, an obsession that seemed to run in Roman’s blood. His inner alpha was naturally devoted to her, as if it all depended on Y/N and it wasn't something Roman was used to. As the Tribal Chief he was the giver and taker, he was the centerpiece around which everything else revolved, but she, it seemed, was the center of him. One that kept moving away and that his wolf pressed to fill and bind to him.

Mate.

That gorgeous woman at the hallway’s end, with a frown and bare, endless legs, was his personal battle and more days passed, more the need to win her became indispensable.

- Not even a good morning. It's disrespectful - he complained, reaching for her when her eyes were still focused on looking out.

- You know what would be respectful and nice? You who don't get behind me - she snapped back, even if not so annoyed.

She no longer reacted as before, she was less worried. At least with him. Because her eyes were still on the garden, where Solo was making his first tour of the property. They weren't connected, she couldn't know it was him if she didn't see, but her senses were extraordinarily developed and Roman now knew why.

- There’s nothing out there that deserves more attention than me, you should have turned around – he murmured against her hair, a bit to distract her from useless thoughts a bit to really have her undivided attention.

Spending her whole life alone, with no one to support her, after what happened to her family, made Y/N strong and that was something he appreciated. But she didn't need to be there like that, not in that house, not when he was there. His wolf wanted her to rely on him, he was the provider for his bloodline and before anyone else now, he would provide and protect her.

Y/N moved again at contact with his hand, recovering to finally leave her still position.

-It's a miracle how you haven't been crushed yet by the weight of your ego – she tried to get rid of him too despite her slightly amused voice and leave him behind, continuing towards the living room, but Roman had no desire to do so.

-I have broad shoulders - he joked, blocking her however between himself and a furniture when she tried to turn the corner - and you... what did I tell you about that mouth of yours? - his words came out in a low growl.

Stuck, she raised her eyes while he held her face. Thumb rubbing the soft caramel skin, gaze following the full curve of her lips, her breath suddenly rumbling in his ears and that scent of her… it was stronger, there was something that wasn't there yesterday. Something sweeter, fruity and spicy? What was that?

Mine. Mine.

- I wasn't listening, a bit like you when I told you to keep your hands in their place - Y/N distracted him, moving his away and slipping to the side to escape his grip.

He had expected a scene or a bad reaction and instead he received that. It wasn't even a rebuke. She was softening, letting go more often, she trusted him now, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted more, he wanted to keep her, he wanted all of her and he wanted her to resign to be his mate, wanted her to think the same.

- They're where they need to be. Like you – he insisted, pulling her hips against him after a few steps.

He buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply against her skin and Y/N gasped. Her pulse had quickened at the mere contact of his breath against her soft spot. He tightened his grip on her beautiful hips, stomach contracted, chest heaving from just breathing in her scent and when she still didn't move, he thrust forward. She wasn't petite, but she disappeared into his arms and the closer he pulled her to him, the tighter he squeezed, the more she seemed to curl up against his broad chest.

Mate… smell good…

Everything else around them was gone again, the same warm feeling he had felt when he woke up there again. The void full again. He rubbed his beard against her hair, marking her even if only with his scent, a gesture of dominance and pure instinct, his hard boner now pressed into her round ass. His senses were quickening, his blood was pumping faster and when Y/N tilted her head a little, Roman sank there with no intention of getting out. And so it would have gone if Y/N hadn't slipped out of his grip once more, spinning in his arms and pulling away from herself one finger at a time, after the most obscene stifled moan he had ever heard.

- Roman… I haven't changed my mind – she said trying to regain control, her hands trying to keep him at bay.

- You'll change it.

He saw her lift her head, looking into his eyes for confirmation or a sign and something seemed to snap inside her, prompting her to back away in a way she hadn't done in a few days.

- What if it doesn't? – there it is.

Sounded a lot like a provocation, a challenge and no one ever ended up good when they challenged him, but with her Roman had discovered new levels of tollerance. For that matter, however, he had none. Because he understood what the problem was and was ready to force it out of her head if necessary.

- Who says the… moon goddess is right? That those stories about destined mates are true? You're an alpha, it's ridiculous that you accept as law a story told by who knows who, when we still lived in the woods.

Alpha.

Christ… that tongue was a blessing and a curse, but even as his wolf snarled for all that disrespect, Roman understood. She was asking the wrong questions and for reasons she shouldn't have, but he could understand, he'd been there too.

For his family traditions were everything and he, like the twins, Solo and everyone else in his pack, had grown up respecting and carrying them forward. For them in some aspects there had been no progression even though the world had moved on, and they fought to keep things the same for those who came later. They had a legacy to secure, and Roman had always been willing to do anything to do so. But he'd stopped believing bullshit before he got a beard, and for years he'd been convinced that the mate issue was part of the package. In his family, mates were less than the fingers of a hand, Jey and Takecia had discovered to be mate when they were still kidz, but nothing extraordinary had happened in Roman eyes. But it had probably been different for them, and now that Y/N was there, now that Roman had found her, he understood that. Because there was something about her that always called him, it wasn't simple attraction.

- I do it because we are bond, not for a story. You can refuse all you want, but that's the same for you. We have it in our bones, in our blood, in every fiber of our body and you know it.

His hand instinctively went to her wrist, prompting her to rub her fingers on his arm. Hidden beneath his tattoo was the scar he'd made as a boy. He had gotten it himself, before he was old enough to get a tattoo. He had spread his arm open in front of his bedroom mirror, telling his furious mother that he had wanted to honor their tradition with a symbol, when in reality it had been an attempt to ease a pain in his arm. The pain came from her, but he had only discovered it when the doctor had examined her on the night of their first bad encounter: Y/N had a bad scar on the inside of the same arm, something had gotten inside and had nearly passed trought. He had felt Y/N’s pain before he even knew she existed and now Roman suspected that this had not been the only time nor the worst. As an adult, when he had finished the real tattoo, the only drawing among the symbols of his people had been a flower inside his wrist, not for anyone to look at and that one too had depended on her.

They weren't superstitions and old laws. What he had felt that afternoon as a kid and years ago… the crave, the anxiety, the need and the wholeness when he had found her, was real.

- I stopped trusting my body when I was twelve. Im trying to be logical - she murmured, eyes still fixed on his arm, fingers examining his skin now without him having to hold her, her expression indecipherable.

But Roman was learning to sniff out her reactions better and better. She was confused by that discovery on him, a little amazed for that prove and he tugged her chin up, seeking her undivided attention.

- We both know why you refuse. Don't lie to me, babygirl, that's not a good idea.

- They were close, I could see it, in everything they did… we just argue - she said with a heavy breath and he nodded.

She was dead serious and reasonable, everything an omega like her shouldn't be and he was willing to find a solution to the problem or get it out of the way if necessary. He was open to plan B even though she rejected it.

- You’re trying hard to leave things as they are - he teased her, deciding not to push her back on the road of her past, hands going instead on her hips, pulling her towards him.

- And it's my fault? You started it, claiming me before you told me your name – retorted Y/N, moving his hands away with exasperation and finding them elsewhere.

She sighed, ceasing to quit with an almost tired look and Roman pulled her completely close to him, rocking her with a satisfied grin. She was a human repellant to unremarkable attempts and not the kind of woman for anyone, but he was the exception, he was exclusive and now, as he bridged the space between them, rubbing his nose against her hair, he was more sure than ever that he was willing to do anything to establish that primacy above all others.

- I did you a favor. You have new, better documents now.

Mate smells…

The smell of her was comfortable, soft and exciting like a hunting trail. It was exactly like Y/N, but that day it was stronger, it had something Roman hadn't smelled yet, something he didn't know.

Mine.

- So may I go? - Y/N asked, his breath pounding against her neck, her fingers pinching his tank top, his nails scraping slowly his skin.

- I'll be good and I'll pretend I didn't hear you – the menacing growl still came out of his throat, his wolf just couldn't stand that game, but Y/N didn't move.

Instead, she bent her neck, one hand slowly moving up his arm to check the scar again, as he buried his face in the space she was giving him.

- Try to be more good... and stop pointing that thing against me - she whispered however, in his ear and only at that moment, Roman realize he had pushed her who knows when all the way to the dining room, his manhood pressing overbearingly on her leg.

The laughter she had caused him however sounded like a heated gurgling and completely ignoring her request, he grabbed her by the ass, lifting her unceremoniously onto the table. Y/N barely let out a surprised noise, her hands gripping his arms and her eyes fixed on him, studying his expression, while slowly he caressed her bare thighs.

- Ask me something else babygirl – he growled, spreading her legs to make room for himself

- Anything? – she upped the ante, still motionless, allowing him another step forward.

- Whatever you want - he granted hoarsely, pulling her to the edge, to fit her perfectly against him.

- …lemme g-

He shushed her before she could even finish, determined to devour her there on the table once and for all, his boner now purposefully rubbing against her warm core, barely covered by the underwear beneath her dress. Y/N bit his lip, by reflex or habit Roman had no idea, but Roman didn't even care about the blood in his mouth as she bent her back, hands gripped tighter to his arms. It was a full-fledged fight, the chair at the head of the table had already blown away, but it was a fight that Y/N didn't seem so intent on winning this time. She tenaciously kept him away from her neck, preventing him from licking or mark her and yet, she had her legs wrapped around his hips, following the movements of his pelvis with the most dangerous moans that Roman could ever imagine.

Everything about her seemed purposely made to make him want more, to fight more and lose himself. The whole house could have collapsed on him at that very moment and Roman would have heard only that choked sigh, almost a cry, that Y/N had released as she felt his fingers move towards the inside of her legs. Her skin was warm, soft, she tasted so fuckin good, more than any omega he'd ever eaten and just realizing it, made him wonder what it tasted like down there.

With her nails scratching his arms, Roman growled into her mouth and pushed his hand a little further, the light fabric of the underwear taunting his control. When he finally reached her core, Y/N jerked abruptly almost regaining consciousness, but Roman didn't give her time to snap, thumb curiously tracing her soft, wet, puffy folds.

Lord-

-Roma-ahn - her entire body shook, a beautiful mess, before she straightened up and buried her head against his solid chest.

Mate. Mine. Mine. Take her now.

He smiled, his wolf now almost completely on the surface, as the thumb slowly opened her, bathing in her juices and coming up to dirty her. His ears heard the slimy sound of her warmth, mixed with her moans, her breath broken, heart racing faster each time Roman went deeper. She was a drug and when Y/N pressed against him, seeking comfort, Roman was sure he didn't want to do anything else for the rest of his life. He nuzzled her nose into her hair, unexpectedly feeling her do the same on his neck and curled up her hand, determined to give her some relief, but the kick she landed on him behind his legs, caught him off guard.

- L-lemme go! - growled under him Y/N, digging her nails into his arms and Roman was forced to plant his hands on the table, to maintain the position – lemme go Roman!

Suddenly out of her mind, she began to push him and back away, struggling to escape as tenaciously as she had the night they met, but this time he wasn't willing to take any kicks and so he pulled her wrist, pinning her where they were without a chance.

No!

- Whatcha tryna do huh? - he growled suddenly and Y/N's eyes widened, with surprise.

Her reaction made him wrinkle his nose and he loosened his grip, running a hand over his face to physically push away the anger that had invested him.

He didn't want to yell at her. He didn't have to with her, but he didn't understand the reason of that behavior. He was trying to be understanding, he was trying to treat her right, he was doing the best for her, he was going slow-

- Solo is here –Y/N answered, almost reading his mind and Roman raised his head in confusion.

Solo was outside. He checked the garden every morning, never entering before doing so and being called, it was the routine of every day, it was Roman’s order. It wasn't possible, but when Y/N moved her eyes over his shoulder, Roman regained awareness of his surroundings. He turned around, looking from there the kitchen entrance door and Solo was there.

***

She had done the math. That afternoon she could have already been in the largest city across the border, the ship that had been carrying her there, two days behind her. Without documents, moving around was complicated, slow and not always comfortable, but she would have managed as always. And, actually, there she was, sitting by the river, beer in hand, watching Jimmy and Jey's kids jump off a rope.

The thought of going home haunted her, popping into her mind without warning. She wasn't used to having so many people around her, she wasn't used to not having to worry about herself, being safe, and even having someone to make sure she was okay, but against all odds, there she was. And she liked it.

Home.

Part of her felt guilty for getting this far and actually thinking about quitting. Because even if she didn't admit it out loud, it was getting easier and easier to find something positive there and less comforting away from Roman. Realizing it brought her back to that morning and suddenly her chest felt heavy, her stomach in a vice.

She'd woken up buried in the sheets, tucked up against his bare chest, and even when she'd surfaced, trying to regain control, she'd been able to hold out for less than half an hour before she found herself back in his arms. And on that last occasion for a brief, unbearable moment, Y/N had wished to always been there… but then Roman had gone away. In a bad, bad mood and not looking back and Y/N couldn't help but wonder what was going on, cause something was going on. He hadn't called to check on her, he hadn't even given orders and in as long as she'd known him, she'd never seen him act like this.

Some of the boys called to her from the water and her hand reflexively went up, greeting them with a smile, as they splashed everywhere, screaming of another great dive.

- They like you girl! – Jimmy chuckled, sitting down next to her and Y/N wrinkled her nose, looking at them having the best time of their life.

- And I like them, never see kidz cuter then them – she admitted, tasting some beer.

- Perfect, then-

- Jimmy! Leave her alone and mind your own business! - Naomi lashed out against him, fortunately preventing what Y/N already knew was not the kind of speech she wanted to hear.

She might begin to find the situation pleasant, but she had no intention of giving birth to any cub either in the next nine months or in the next nine years.

- It's my business too, they'll stop rushing-

- Nobody rushes me.

- They rush me! And maybe it will do him good, he will calm down and have something else to think about…

This time was Jey to stop him, hand crashing into his shoulder and Y/N watched them as they exchanged silent glances, Naomi shaking her head from the bank. The tension lasted just a second, before Jimmy got up again to reach the river too, but it was enough for her.

Except for their first meeting, the twins had been the only ones together with Naomi, never giving her reason to doubt. But Y/N had seen too much, having to fend for herself, not to smell when something was wrong and she didn't like that exchange as much as not knowing why Roman wasn't showing up.

- It's a joke – she heard Jey justify who know whos, feeling her eyes on him.

Now that she was watching him carefully, she was realizing that he was unable to sit still. He kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his hands rubbing his pants or each other, his eyes going from the kids to his brother, back to the kids, her, cars, even the river. It could pass for territorial behavior, maybe it was, but there was also something she knew that an alpha shouldn't have. He was anxious.

- Why did yall fight years ago? – she asked and Jey stopped.

- Who told you that? - he inquired, unable to pretend and hold back the wave of frustration that had hit him hearing that story brought to the surface.

- Roman… but he didn't add anything.

The night Roman admitted it, Y/N hadn't really wondered what had happened. The reason for that admission had seemed obvious to her and it continued to have the same value for her, but she knew nothing else about that story except what he had revealed to her and now, instead, she felt the sudden need to know. The omega in her rejected any doubts about her mate, but more Y/N thought about it, more Jey remained silent, more red flags raise up.

Jimmy had said they needed to calm him down?

- There’s nothing to say. Just an old story, we are a family, we good – Jey cut short, turning away, his head nodding and his gaze fixed elsewhere.

They were good.

No good.

No good, at all.

***

With his gaze fixed on the road that rushed past the car, he scratched his beard annoyed, tension, anger increasing more and more and that horrendous feeling of weight on his shoulders oppressing him.

By then he should have been at home or anywhere else. Not there. Not in that car. Not to meet them without any warning.

- Who told them? – he growled, barely holding back his irritation.

The Wise Man's anxiety suddenly increased hearing his voice. He was sweating, Roman could smell it. He felt his hands gripping the Ula fala briefcase. His mouth opening and closing without looking, searching for the right words as always. His body, in yet another expensive suit, curled up against the seat opposite him.

He loved Paul like an uncle, a real member of his family. He'd worked for his pack since before Roman could stand on his feet and had always been worthy of that role, but right now Roman would have chocked him with his red tie without regret.

- My Tribal Chief-

- I asked you a question! - he growled louder and from the front seat, Solo silently raised his eyes, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

- Someone saw you in town yesterday. You are an important man, who attract attention, people talk about you because it’s always an honor, a privilege when you are present! - his praises didn't even reach his ears that time though, and for the rest of the ride, Paul didn't say a word.

As far as he was concerned, he might as well have even read an horoscope, Roman wouldn't have listened to him anyway. Not after finding out he's been caught as a dumb kid skipping school.

No good.

Fuck!

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic

152 notes · View notes

heretyc · 1 year ago

Text

What Outlast Characters Do For Halloween

I AM NOT LATE. SHUT UP.

This blog is a HALLOWEEN BLOG. STARTING...now.

Jokes aside, I thought I'd do some Halloween HC's since I'm late. I mean I'm not late...what are you talking about? You're crazy. I'm gaslighting and girlbossing you.

Mentions of genitalia. Minors GTFO.

Enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————

Miles -

Miles is definitely the kind of guy that goes as something funny. Couple costumes are a must, but you need to expect something hilarious. Cock and balls. Outlet and plug. Moth and lamp. Shrek and Fiona. As long as it's hilarious, he WILL want to do it. He hates Pinterest but made an account just for funny ideas.

He is def the type to walk around and hand out candy, but no one wants a giant penis handing "sour patch kids" to their children. He eventually swaps costumes with you - you're the designated balls by the way - and he paints them red and says he's a bunch of cherries.

He buys the full size candy bars but gives assholes the small versions.

A pre-teen dressed as Homelander knocked on your door once and insulted Miles. Homelander then went crying to his mom after Miles ate a full size Snickers in his face and slammed the door.

Lore accurate Homelander.

He'd also go as Michael Myers just to silently stare at people and freak them out. He DOES eat candy with the mask on. It's funny as hell, dude. When you go door to door, he will take candy, eat it with the mask on, and with the WRAPPER on, and then leave after the candy falls to the ground, smashed. The people who give you the candy are so confused.

Miles likes to go all out for Halloween, too; the outside is coated in cobwebs, and the inside is full of orange and purple lights. Expect to watch cringy horror flicks with him.

Waylon -

Waylon adores cute costumes! Mario and Peach, Bugs Bunny and Lola, Howl and Sophie. He loves seeing little bunnies and princesses and superheroes come up to the door. He's soft and gentle and hands them as much candy as possible.

He will dump the entire bowl of candy into a kid's pillow case if they're adorable. He is the type to do that. Because of this, you have to buy 5 boxes of candy. There goes your bank account!

He doesn't go all out, but he does enjoy horror flicks and posters!

When you go door to door, he's always the one to say "trick or treat" because he's precious. Who WOULDN'T give Waylon candy??

Blake -

Blake enjoys costumes that take little to no effort. Funny or cute, he likes them both as long as they're subtle. He loves going as Shaggy for Halloween. Just need a green shirt and khakis! He's already Shaggy, anyway. He solved a mystery...he just couldn't rip Knoth's face off. Or Val's mud boobs.

He buys small size candy bars and keeps the big ones for you and him. He doesn't go all out.

He goes trick or treating with you, but lets you do the knocking and "trick or treat"ing. If he sees a priest costume, he will have a mini panic attack.

Trager -

Trager is the KING of funny shit during Halloween. You're the olive to his martini. The boob to his other boob!

Yes, he'd make you go as boobs. He's a man of class.

He definitely goes all out. His lawn has a skeleton with a lawn mower. He also enjoys scaring the shit out of kids and has that automatic bowl with the skeleton hand that closes on kid's hands.

There's a fake head in the garden, and he affectionately called it "Jeremy". You can guess why.

He goes all out just to scare people. He would 100% hire a scary clown to guard his lawn.

In terms of candy, he hands out bags of sprite. He buys candy for him and you.

Trager's door on Halloween, real footage.

You don't go door to door since last time, Trager cut someone's hand off for not giving you a full size Aero bar. Serves them right, to be honest.

Eddie -

He loves couple costumes!! He refuses to dress up unless you're involved! Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio, Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit, and Ellie and Carl are just some of the costumes you guys wear on Halloween!

He goes all out for the kiddos! Candy apples, full sized candy bars. He loves making their nights!

He doesn't like horror flicks. He prefers romance. Romantic horror might be up his alley, though. ;)

He's wonderful with a knife, so he carves pumpkins!

You go door to door and give THEM candy instead. It's funny, but most of the time, they're appreciative.

Jeremy -

Jeremy doesn't celebrate Halloween, really. But he does love doing sexy costumes with you. Any costume that has him in a suit and you dressed to the nines is good enough for him.

He doesn't give out candy, no. He buys EVERY SINGLE BOX at EVERY SINGLE STORE and spoils the both of you. The Rich Who Stole Halloween, much???

There's a skeleton with scissors on his lawn, who he affectionately named "Richard". There's another skeleton, looking like it's about to knock Richard's head off with a golf club.

And that skeleton is named "Jeremy". Hm. Wonder why.

You don't go door to door. Jeremy thinks he's above everyone else, and he has an entire room dedicated to the candy he bought for you. It's huge.

Marta -

Marta IS Halloween!!! She started it!!! She was there to scare Jesus in the manger.

She'd go as a nun. What did you expect??

She buys full sized candy bars, but the poor dear scares kids every year. "TAKE YOUR SNICKERS...HEY WHY ARE YOU RUNNING..."

Her house is always gothic, so she's technically ready for Halloween all year. Queen!!!

She goes door to door with you, but she's more of a scary, tall body guard.

Val -

Val loves sexy costumes and will 100% dress scantily or gothic. Jessica Rabbit, a cheerleader, Morticia Addams...they will dress in anything that shows off their figure or chest, mud boobs or not. You go as Billy and Stu from Scream sometimes! They have a mask kink. This was bound to happen.

Spooky season doesn't stop their horniness, y'all. It's actually kind of scary. You'll go door to door and they will make out with you as a guy in a Michael Myers costume stares at you holding out a bowl. You can't even say "trick or treat". They insist that kissing you is a treat, though.

You 100% watch horror flicks all night. But you're not watching, if you know what I mean.

What's scary is what's in their sex toy collection. You're going to be busssyyyyy.

#outlast #outlast 2 #outlast 2 val #eddie gluskin #x reader #val x reader #eddie gluskin x reader #outlast fanfiction #outlast headcanons #outlast x reader

90 notes · View notes

asgoodeasgold · 10 months ago

Text

A life in the Pink with Matthew Goode (Part 5)

"I don't know anymore. I might have lost all perspective."

Matthew is now wearing bright red cranky pants in addition to the obligatory shirt. Poor George, he was only trying to be nice. As for the cameraman, read the room (or the garden rather). Hilarious 🤣

📷 My edits from "A life in the Pink with Matthew Goode" 2019 Autumn-Winter campaign (video on Vimeo)

My Pink blog Part 1:

My Pink blog Part 2:

My Pink blog Part 3:

My Pink blog Part 4:

Link to advert:

vimeo

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #a life in the pink #pink shirts #pink shirtmakers #male fashion #Vimeo

34 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 3 months ago

Text

Dragon Chosen (BuckTommy fic) - 3/5

Summary:

In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon…a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy.

Rating: M

Words: 3.8k

Ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

It wasn’t at all hard to determine how quickly Evan took to the bond. Within the first few days, he seemed to just instinctively understand how he could help Gwyn heal. Halfway through the second week, he and Tommy took the bandage off. Cyra didn’t recommend that Gwyn fly yet, but Evan took it upon himself to do some kind of physical therapy with Gwyn.

Focusing on Gwyn getting better was the only thing that kept Tommy from jumping Evan and kissing him silly. Evan didn’t make it very easy, either. The number of times that Tommy had walked out of his room to find Evan with just a towel around his hips. It was as if he were timing leaving the bathroom perfectly to run into Tommy. Then there was the touching. Evan bumped his shoulder, grabbed his hand, slung his arm around his shoulders. He also kept staring at Tommy like he was the last slice of cake or something. Tommy only had so much self-restraint and Evan was pushing it.

Cyra thought it was hilarious and she kept encouraging him to just go for it. Evan was either the biggest flirt and had no idea what he was doing, or he knew exactly what he was doing and Tommy thought it was the latter.

That morning, he found Evan in the kitchen. The smell of coffee wafted his way and he paused to take Evan in. He was still in pajamas, a t-shirt that was too tight and pants that sat low on his hips. Tommy swallowed. The universe was being very unfair.

“Good morning,” Evan called out to him, shooting him a smile. “Your coffee is just there.”

He pointed to a cup that was still a little steamy but already had the right amounts of cream and sugar.

“You remember how I take my coffee?”

“Well, after the mess I made of it the first time,” Evan said, ducking his head.

“Thank you.”

“Eggs will be ready in a moment,” Evan said.

They ate together like they had every morning since Evan had come to stay. Tommy had never lived with anyone before and though he’d welcomed Evan and Gwyn, Chim had tried to prepare him for the annoyance of having someone in his space. It wasn’t annoying at all to have Evan there. Evan was the perfect house guest and Tommy liked having him around, wanted him around for that matter.

On the few days that Evan actually left the house, Tommy could even go as far as to say that he missed him. But Evan had his garden to care for and he liked going by the 118 even if he was on dragon leave.

“I finally convinced Eddie to take over taking care of the garden,” Evan announced. “I mean, I’ll still go check on it, but he can be there to give it water and harvest things.”

“That’s great,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded. “I hate being away from Gwyn. Does that get better?”

“It will,” Tommy confirmed. “How are you doing with blocking her out of your mind?”

“Better, I think. I’ve been practicing all morning. I just…there’s some stuff I rather she didn’t know.” He blushed and looked at Tommy and then away, biting his lip.

“Stuff like what?”

Evan blushed far too easily and Tommy loved it. He loved the way that the pink spread on his cheeks and on his neck. Maybe it went even further down, wouldn’t that be a sight.

“Uh…I mean…like if I was doing stuff that’s a bit personal,” Evan got out, his words rushed.

“Hmmm,” Tommy said. “You mean while you were jerking off?”

Evan gasped. Tommy internally didn’t know why he said it outloud. He could barely look at Evan, but Evan’s eyes were trained on him and when he glanced up it was to find heat and want and hunger.

“Tommy,” Evan said, it was almost pleading.

Tommy got up from his chair. He was feeling warm and his palms were sweaty. Evan got up too and he reached and grabbed Tommy’s wrist. Whatever had had him unsure before, it was gone.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, Tommy, what do you do if you want to jerk off? If you want to touch yourself? If you want to touch someone else…if you want to fuck someone?”

Evan stepped closer, his hand climbed up Tommy’s wrist to his elbow. Their eyes were locked together and Tommy would never be sure who moved first or who kissed who first, just that in the next moment the space between them was closed and they were kissing. It was a hungry kiss, hard and filled with want. All the tension from the last few weeks exploded in that kiss and before he knew it their tongues were sliding together and Tommy was moaning into the kiss.

They only pulled away to get air and they were panting against each other, Evan’s lips quirking into a smirk.

“Tell me you have him blocked off?” Tommy whispered.

Evan pecked his lips. “Yes. Why do you think I’ve been trying to perfect it?”

And then they were kissing again. Evan’s hands were in his hair and Tommy pulled him closer, pressed their bodies up and felt that toned chest he’d felt the first day he met him when they flew on Cyra. He touched Evan’s back, his hands reaching down to grope at his ass.

Evan groaned into his neck, leaving open mouth kisses until he was back at Tommy’s lips. He rutted right into Tommy’s thigh and reached down, his hand making a slow trek between them and into Tommy’s shorts right for his cock. His first touch sent a zing of pleasure through Tommy and it really had been too long since he’d been with anyone.

Evan’s fingers circled his girth, moaned against Tommy’s shoulder.

“Want you to fuck me,” Evan said, voice breathy.

Tommy didn’t waste any time. He pulled at Evan’s hand until he was out of his shorts.

“What…Tommy, I—”

Tommy kissed him, spun Evan around and pulled his pajama pants and underwear down. Evan kicked them away, he wasted no time in leaning against the counter and pushing his ass out and oh, it really was perfect, better than Tommy could have dreamed up and he’d been dreaming it up every night. At first he just groped him a bit, slipping his dry fingers down his crack and teasing him, before he dropped to his knees behind him.

First, he placed a soft bite to one cheek. Evan groaned.

Tommy spread his cheeks, looked at his hole and dove right in. He could hear Evan’s cries. The way that his words were jumbled and broken up, but he said Tommy’s name and Tommy could get addicted to the sound. He could also get addicted to his taste. He reached around Evan and grasped his cock at the base, gave him a pump and felt how wet the head was. He groaned into Evan.

“Tommy, Tommy…Tommy please,” Evan cried out.

Tommy rubbed a finger over Evan’s hole, wet from Tommy’s saliva. As hot as it would be to just keep this in the kitchen, the lube was in his room and Tommy was going to do it right.

“Bedroom, Evan,” he said.

Evan whined, but Tommy stood, turned him again and kissed him. Evan groaned into the kiss, he clung to Tommy. Tommy walked them backwards out of the kitchen, but he put a pause to it at the stairs. Evan went ahead of him, bare bottom and all. Tommy wanted him and he wanted him desperately. He ran after Evan and the two of them grasped at each other at the top of the stairs, kissing and groping. Evan tugged at Tommy’s clothes and by the time they were in his room they were both nude.

Evan dropped onto the bed at once, displaying himself and fondling his own cock with a smirk on his face. Tommy did quick work of finding the lube and dropping it next to Evan.

“Want me to?” Evan asked.

Tommy shook his head. “No, baby, let me. I want to get you nice and loose for me.”

Evan made a whimpering noise.

Tommy really couldn’t torture Evan or himself any longer.

Evan lifted his hips up, squished a pillow under him and spread his legs out and then he touched himself some more. Tommy knocked his hand away and grabbed the lube. He was slow, but Evan urged him to go faster, to get his fingers inside him already. Tommy leaned over to kiss him and he pressed in.

—

Buck had known that Tommy wanted him for weeks. Probably since they first met. In any other circumstance, he would have probably propositioned him on day one. Gwyn had been a factor though and how much he needed Buck mentally. It had led to Buck finally asking Tommy about keeping Gwyn out of his head and finding out how difficult it actually was to form that block between him and the dragon.

Determination to get it right and do more than flirt with Tommy had made him learn. He regretted nothing, especially not when Tommy was finally lining himself up and pushing into him with such a gentle patience that was betrayed by the heat in his eyes and the way that he gripped at Buck’s hips.

Having Tommy inside him when he finally bottomed out felt amazing. He felt fuller than ever, felt a little pain at the stretch, but it was nothing in comparison to the bliss on Tommy’s face or how he leaned down to kiss Buck almost gently.

Then, he began moving and Buck just about lost it. Pleasure coursed through him.

“Evan,” Tommy said, “you feel so good. So good for me.”

Buck drew him down into a kiss and he felt Tommy’s hand on his cock, something of a tease before he started moving his hand up and down. Buck gasped, head thrown back. Tommy started to fuck him just a little harder and Buck just about exploded. It seemed to be just what Tommy was looking for because a moment later he was cumming too.

They were both panting, sweaty, and warm. Buck’s stomach was sticky and wet. None of it mattered, not when Tommy was tying up the condom and dropping to lay next to Buck.

“We are doing that again,” Buck informed him.

Tommy laughed. He kissed Buck’s bicep. “And other things.”

“All the things,” Buck corrected.

Despite how much he might want to, Buck knew they couldn’t stay in bed all morning. Still, they both lingered at first just cooling off, but then kissing and caressing and smiling at each other. Tommy finally declared it was time to get up almost an hour later and then he couldn’t be convinced to share the shower with Buck, though he did let Buck go first.

When Buck left the bathroom, towel around his waist, he found Tommy out in the hall waiting in just his shorts.

“I just want to know,” Tommy said, “how deliberate was all of this?”

“All of what?” Buck asked.

“You and the towel after a shower?”

“Can’t dry off in a steamy room, Tommy,” Buck said, “but it didn’t hurt to show you what you could have.”

Tommy grabbed him around the waist, pressing them together. He drew Buck into a deep kiss and then he slapped Buck’s ass through the towel when he pushed him away. Buck just laughed and continued into the guest room. He dressed quickly, dismantled the mental block and felt out for Gwyn.

Gwyn was awake and eating. Buck didn’t quite like to think about the eating habits of the dragons. They were carnivores and consumed their food well cooked. Cyra was providing food for Gwyn while he still couldn’t fly, though sometimes he did walk into the woods way behind Tommy’s house where he could find critters to snack on.

He didn’t wait for Tommy and headed out of the house. He and Tommy had cleared out the shed on the first day and Gwyn had been using it mostly at night. During the day he was mostly out on the grass and Buck was usually with him. He hated when he had to leave him there to go back to his house. At least he’d qualified for dragon rider’s leave so he could be out of work. Normally, Buck would have hated taking time off, but Gwyn had changed things.

When he reached Gwyn, the dragon immediately turned to him, cocking his head.

You smell like Tommy

Buck laughed. Cyra let out a snort that was her own laughter. There really would never be hiding anything from them.

How’s your wing doing? Buck asked, deciding to ignore it.

Doesn’t hurt.

Buck reached for Gwyn, touching his head and down his neck to his back and then to the wing. He stretched it out. There was still a tension there, Buck could practically feel it. It felt like a muscle that was a bit too tight. His hands smoothed over the wing. It was soft and delicate, but he massaged it like he’d been doing every day since he and Tommy removed the bandage.

That feels nice. How long until I can fly?

It might be a while yet, Gwyn. We don’t want you to get hurt

He could feel his disappointment and he tried to send back reassurance.

Buck had found that despite being quite young, Gwyn was pretty mature when it came to most things. He did have a stubborn streak, though, and an eagerness to get back to the sky. When he told Hen and Chim about that, he’d gotten stared at until Buck admitted that maybe he shared those qualities.

Look, a while back I was injured too. My leg. Even to this day it gets a bit tight when it rains. It took a long time for me to heal up and get back to normal. I was impatient too and I pushed myself too hard. It made it worse, looking back. So, you have to go slow and listen to Cyra. She knows better than both of us.

Gwyn brushed his head against Buck and Buck sighed. He let him fold his wing back into place. When he looked up, he spotted Tommy headed their way. He blushed even just looking at him. Tommy smiled at him.

“How’s the patient?”

“Impatient,” Buck said.

Tommy laughed. He made his way to where Cyra was sitting. She lowered her head so Tommy could touch her and Buck could see from Tommy’s body language that he was being teased.

The next few weeks went along in the same way. Buck spent some time with Gwyn, he went to care for his garden because Eddie could really only be trusted to make sure everything was watered and picked, and he and Tommy spent any spare moment together. Kisses were constant, their hands were never far from each other. They didn’t discuss it, but they were practically sleeping in the same bed every night and Buck loved waking up with him.

—

The first time that Gwyn flew again was after being told he should wait another week. Tommy had seen it coming. Cyra had warned him it might happen, she was also sure that when it did, Gwyn would be okay. And, he was. Gwyn was also exhausted and the next day Evan was almost in tears from the pain that he felt across the bond because that was just how stiff Gwyn’s wing was from his flight.

“Maybe this will teach him something,” Tommy offered.

Gwyn stayed in the shed, curled up and pain-ridden, but stubborn enough to still tell them that it was worth it. Cyra told them to leave the wing be.

Leave him be. He’ll need to rest and when he wants to fly again he’ll remember this day.

It could have been comical to see Gwyn in the shed, because he’d grown considerably in the last six weeks and he only just fit in there. In a few more weeks, Tommy didn’t think that Gwyn would fit, but in a couple of weeks he might be back in the air and maybe it wouldn’t matter.

Tommy was preparing himself for what that would mean. If Gwyn could fly and hunt for himself, then it would mean that Evan could go back home so that Gwynn could start settling in where he would live. That was the goal and yet, Tommy didn’t want them to go. In the last few weeks Evan had been sleeping next to him every night and not just on the nights when they got each other off. He didn’t think he’d ever been that okay with someone in his bed like that before and yes it was fast, but it really felt like Evan belonged there.

When his morose thoughts got to Cyra she tried to remind him that he’d been approved by the Dragon Rider Guild to help Evan with everything. It was why he’d been allowed to miss so much work.

Tommy worked at Dragon Air Support. It was a part of LAFD Air Support. Tommy had known it was the right place for him. Some people thought it was redundant to have fire breathing dragons working for the fire department, but those people didn’t know that firefighters did a whole lot more than dealing with fires.

Dragons were strong for one thing and for another, they helped with controlled fires, and getting into places that helicopters just couldn’t. Not to mention that dragons were fireproof and could fly right into flames for rescues that wouldn’t be possible otherwise. Tommy kinda hoped that Evan would end up joining him at Dragon Air Support when Gwyn was full grown, but he was also aware of how close everyone at the 118 was and Buck might not want to leave them.

With Gwyn moody and in pain, Tommy had the task of getting Evan out of the house and away from the dragon before it really affected his mood more than it already did.

“Want to go flying with me?” Tommy asked.

“On Cyra?” Evan looked surprised.

Tommy grinned. “Yes. Gwyn needs to rest and he’ll be fine here on his own. We won’t go far so we can hear him, but I figure you need some distance from him.”

“Sure.”

Ten minutes later, Tommy was helping him climb up Cyra and once they were seated, Evan wrapped his arms around Tommy, pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Tommy turned slightly, enough to draw him into a quick kiss. Cyra surprised both of them by rising, taking a few steps and flapping her wings and pushing off the ground. Evan made a squeaking noise, but he settled against Tommy’s back.

What? It was getting too mushy for me.

You wanted us together.

Yes. I’m happy for you, you know that. Just keep that off my back.

Fair enough. One day you’ll meet your mate, Cyra, and I won’t complain if you get mushy.

Dragons do not get mushy.

Tommy smiled to himself. He sent his joy through to Cyra and received her own happiness back.

Cyra didn’t fly them very far. The last thing Tommy wanted was for Evan to be too far from Gwyn and not hear if the dragon was in distress. He didn’t think they needed to worry, but it was better safe than sorry. After all, despite his best efforts they hadn’t had any luck locating the witch. The Dragon Rider Guild took the whole thing very seriously. There were quite a few young dragons about the size of Gwyn who were vulnerable and even more riderless dragons who weren’t quite ready to call for their rider.

What concerned them the most was that the witch had managed to retain some of Gwyn’s scales. Dragon scales were great for certain spells, sure, but they also could be used to track the dragon who lost them. Tommy hoped they were wrong, but the witch could try to find Gwyn. So far no one had found her and they had very little to go on.

Cyra started descending, Evan’s arms tightened around him. She was out over the water and she glided down, dragging her feet. Evan gasped, especially when Cyra tilted to the left dropping her wing into the water. A spray of water hit them. Cyra righted herself a moment later. She didn’t come down right in the water, but landed on the sand, sending a lot of it up into the air in a cloud. Tommy ducked his face and closed his eyes. He felt Evan press his face to his back, arms still tight around him.

Sorry.

It’s okay.

Most of the sand settled quickly, a lot of it landing on Cyra. When Tommy finally lifted his head, Cyra was already getting down so he and Evan could dismount. He went down first and just like the first time, he waited and caught Evan, this time pulling him right into a quick kiss that made Evan laugh.

They were in a portion of the beach that was a bit isolated, but there were still a few people either out on the water or sunbathing on the sand.

“I can’t believe you brought me to the beach,” Evan said.

“I figured we could walk around a bit. Plus, Cyra wanted to come. She likes the water.”

As soon as they had walked a few feet away from her, Cyra actually began walking into the water. Evan stopped to watch her. The waves didn’t bother her, in fact her large body mass created more waves. As soon as she had gotten far enough in, she dove into the water, popping up a while aways.

“I didn’t know dragons liked to swim,” Evan said.

“I don’t know about other dragons, but Cyra’s always been partial to it. She, uh, she took me into the water with her once, it was fun.”

“How long have the two of you been together?”

“About seven or eight years. Seems like a lot longer.”

A nice breeze came in from the sea and they could hear Cyra splashing in the sea. Tommy could picture Gwyn there too, bigger than he was at the moment and yet a part of it because he was Evan’s and Tommy wanted Evan beside him all the time. Maybe they should talk about what they wanted from each other and for the future.

They had walked all the way to where some dunes blocked the path and Tommy was gearing up to bring it up, when Evan went completely still.

“Gwyn,” he said, eyes panicked in a way Tommy had never seen.

Tommy reached out to Cyra at once.

Cyra, we have to go. It’s Gwyn. Something’s wrong.

#bucktommy fic #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fic #tevan #kinley #dragon rider au

11 notes · View notes