#Like some people are saying no they truly want to know are you the sort of person who recommends things

[confiaenanaa]

Hi!! Could you do one in which Em meets reader's parents and he's nervous they won't like him and keep asking reader how to dress, what to say or do??

nervous - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall's nervous about meeting Y/N's parents.

A/N: had a lot of fun writing this one! I know my chapters are short and stuff, but I hope that soon I'll be able to get one out that's super duper long for you guys!

Marshall had never imagined he’d be sitting on his bedroom floor, surrounded by piles of his best clothes and shoes, all for a girl. Well, not a girl; the girl. Y/N was his diamond, his crown jewel. He adored her in every way possible, which is why he was stressing so hard over meeting her parents. This was a very big deal to him; if her parents didn’t like him, what would come of the relationship? 

-Fuck it. 

That’s what he kept muttering to himself as he dialed Y/N’s number in his phone. It rang once, twice, three times, and finally…

-Hello?

-Hey baby.

-Oh, hey, Marsh! What’s up?

-So, I was picking out what I was gonna wear tonight when I realized that I have nothing!

-You’re so dramatic, you have a huge closet! You’ll find something in there.

She was right. He had a plethora of clothes in various styles. There had to be at least one decent outfit somewhere among the mass of fabric tainting the cleanliness of his bedroom. Sadly, he still thought none of it was good enough.

-I actually don’t. Nothing here is nice enough to wear to meet your parents.

-Marshall, my parents aren’t some strict, stick-up-the-ass, crazy people. They don’t really care about what you’re wearing as long as you don’t look homeless.

-Have you seen what I wear? I do look homeless!

-No… you look like a classy homeless man. There’s a difference.

-Baby, I’m serious. I’m real stressed here.

Y/N sighed at his apprehension. He truly was ridiculous at times. 

-What do you want me to do about it?

-Well, can you come over?

-Fine. Be there in 10.

Y/N hopped in her car after throwing on some clothes and took off. She herself needed to get ready, but that need not be mentioned. She’d figure it out. Once she pulled into his driveway, she saw him standing at the door, visibly anxious. Y/N stepped out of the car and greeted Marshall.

-Hey, baby.

-Hey. Help me please.

He sort of jogged up the stairs and led her to his bedroom. Y/N audibly gasped at the mess he’d made. Clothes strewn all over the floor, shoes on the table, perfumes thrown on his bed, the man was a wreck. 

-Good god.

-I know. I have a bit of a mess. But, ignore that. Can you help me pick everything?

-Yeah. Yeah, okay.

Marshall went through the mess finding outfit after outfit. Y/N said all of them were fine, but he wanted his outfit to be great. At this point, Y/N was saying they were great just to get him off her ass. She was running out of time to get ready. 

-Baby don’t lie to me! Tell me if the clothes are actually good, please.

Y/N groaned and stood up from her spot on the bed. She went over to the pile farthest from them and grabbed a nice shirt. Then, she went over to a pile of jeans on the other end of the floor and picked up a pair of jeans that were nice and hadn’t touched the floor yet. Next, she found the shoe pile and grabbed a matching pair of nice jordans and a nice smelling perfume in the pile next to them. She put it all together in front of Marshall and his jaw dropped slightly. 

-Wha… how did you…?

-Magic. Y/N shrugged. She finally went over to the closet and grabbed the nicest clothes she could find from the small and, quite frankly, lacking collection of clothes she kept at Marshall’s house.

-Wow, baby. You look… great.

Marshall looked like a man reborn; a phoenix reborn from the ashes. He was a new man. He looked classy and spiffed up. He wore nice jewelry and a nice watch, but not so nice as to draw attention or to gloat upon his success. 

-Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.

Y/N smiled as Marshall grabbed her hand and guided her to his car. She knew that her parents would love him no matter what, but she still liked teasing him and making him work for it. 

-Well, are we going?

[cvrnelians]

blue monday

dark!Bucky Barnes x reader: People make mistakes all the time. As much as he loved you, Bucky knew that you were no exception to the rule, especially after telling him you wanted to cut ties. It was hurtful, sure, but everyone should be allowed a little slip-up every once in a while, right? Sometimes people just needed a little help correcting their mistakes, and help was exactly what he intended to provide. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most?

Content warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsessive behavior. 18+ only.

Deranged.

You had used that word with him a lot these past several months. A lot. And he would never admit it, but for whatever reason, that—out of any and every insult you hurled his way, that one in particular—still stung.

Bucky didn’t understand it. Or rather, you didn’t understand it. It was you. You were the culprit. This was your fault, all of it. To think you had been damaged to the point of calling someone “deranged” for trying to love you, for trying to show you how invaluable you were…it was shameful, really. Didn’t you know how much it killed him to see you like this, so determined to shut yourself off, to deprive yourself of affection, to push all those thoughts and feelings and memories away?

To push him away.

And for what? To wallow in pain? To suffer so needlessly, to punish yourself for how you truly felt?

Stubborn. You were always so fucking stubborn.

But there were no two ways about it. You did, in fact, care about him. You always cared. Knowing you, you probably always would. Why was that such a crime to you all of a sudden? Why did your love for him now equate to some sort of moral failure?

Kindness wasn’t a synonym for weakness. It was startling. He thought you of all people should know that.

You used to.

You made a mistake. It was just a mistake, that’s all. Completely accidental. You hadn’t meant what you said, the day you tried to break up with him. You couldn’t have. You weren’t thinking clearly. Your family, your friends…they were getting into your head. Of course they were. You wouldn’t have ever come up with something like that on your own. He had tried to warn you about them. He really tried.

But again, you chose to be stubborn.

How did that work out for you?

At least once a week, if not more, he found himself saying it:

“You can’t carry all this weight on your shoulders forever, you know.”

All that crying, complaining, those moments where you pretended to hate him. At some point, you were going to have to let it all go. Otherwise, you would inevitably snap under the pressure, and by that point, he didn’t know if he would be able to put you back together again.

Bucky always thought you were a smart girl. His smart girl. But lately, you weren’t acting like it. Lately, you were acting like you didn’t have a clue what was good for you anymore. And so, he had to show you how much he loved you. Eventually, maybe you would start loving yourself just as much as he did.

Probably not, though. No one could ever love you as much as Bucky.

That was why he brought you here. Not because he wanted to exert control over you, or own you, or any of those sickening things you loved to yell at him whenever he tried to get close to you. You didn’t understand it. You didn’t want to understand it. Where was all that forced vitriol even getting you? You were only angry because you felt like you should be, because your family and friends would want you to be.

But how did you really feel? Were you really that disconnected from your own emotions? Were you really that far gone?

“Aren’t you lonely? Aren’t you lonely like that?”

He knew he could convince you to love him. And if he had to hurt you to help you, if he had to keep you here to make you see just how happy you could be, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

Sure, he could indulge you. Play your little game. He could let you try and escape, but that would almost be cruel. Seriously? Where would you even go? You were miles away from anything or anyone. Even if you did manage to stumble upon something, you didn’t know your way around Sokovia.

You probably didn’t even know you weren’t still in Brooklyn.

You’d come around one day. You had no other choice. You loved him, too. You always had. You always would. You promised him, didn’t you? All those years ago. You promised.

You did.

Bucky wasn’t one to break promises. He wasn’t one to go back on his word.

You weren’t, either.

Not on your life.

[unfriendlies]

it was pretty obvious at this point that there must have been some sort of feelings beyond friendship that darius had for angel, especially if he believed angel would only be safe with him and nobody else. "it's okay if you talk about what happened to you, i don't want people knowing what he's done to me. you're my best friend, the way you looked at me last night," he looked away, shaking his head. "you were disgusted with how i looked. i can't begin to imagine what other people would think of me." his voice grew softer as he spoke, speaking just above a whisper by the end of his statement. there wasn't a whole lot that he remembered from last night, just little moments and angel lifting up garam's shirt to see the bruises on his torso was one of those moments. really, garam had no idea what angel might have said to darius, or even other people. and that scared him. garam didn't want to feel pitied, he didn't want to be looked down on for the choices he made. he thought he was in love, he was looking at the world through rose colored glass. the last thing he needed was for the details of his relationship to become public knowledge. with the fans he had as a popular streamer, he also had his fair share of haters and he knew that they would use this against him if they'd found out. darius barely knew him and he already holding garam's relationship against him. he found himself rolling his eyes dramatically, "i didn't mean like an actual dog. he's just big and scary like a good watch dog would be." he truly didn't mean any harm by it. garam nodded his head in agreement to the shower, knowing that the water would probably help the dull throbbing ache in his head from their night of drinking. he waited until angel had left before going into the bathroom and turning the water on. garam didn't particularly like using other people's shower products simply because the ones he had at his place were formulated specifically for his hair texture, and he was a bit sensitive to smells but he liked angel's scent so he figured using his shower products wouldn't hurt too much. but of course, being left alone, garam got too into his head and he began to worry. was this guy right? was angel really not safe with garam or was it his own feelings for angel that forced his bias? until his ex decided to give on garam, there was no way angel was really safe. he began to panic, the only thing he could think of doing to calm himself was to sit on the floor of the shower. his arms wrapped around his legs as he hugged his knees against his chest, letting the water run over his body. he didn't realize just how long he'd been sitting there until the water had run cold. garam had gotten up, turned the water off, and quickly dried off before walking back into angel's room and into the closet. he wasn't too picky with what he chose to wear, knowing that he'd be practically swimming in anything he chose, so he went with clothes that would hide both his arms and legs. once dressed, he made his way back out to the living room. he didn't look at either men as he sat down on the couch, picking up his phone in the process to look through the dozens of unread notifications. he remained quiet as he read through some of the texts, none of them worried garam until he scrolled down to another picture. he glanced over to darius but quickly looked back to his phone just as another text was coming in. i'm going to work but i'm going to swing by your place once i'm out, i hope to see you there. he sighed heavily, at least his ex wasn't hanging around and they were safe to go back to his apartment to pick up the things he needed. "you should know i would never let anything happen to angel while he's with me." his words were almost mumbled. if he was brave enough, he would have told darius he was used to his ex's aggression, just as he'd told angel, and would easily take the man's fists if it meant angel was safe. but how could he say that without leaving way for the other's curiosity to swell? "he's my best friend, i'd leave if i thought angel was in any danger."

For some reason Garam questioning him upset Angel. He knew Garam was just upset about hearing someone talking about him. Anyone would be. Maybe it was lack of sleep but the taller man snickered and shook his head. “He doesn’t think I’m safe with anyone but him” Angel let out a deep sigh rubbing his hand over his face. Ever since the other man’s confession he had been rather over protective of Angel. Questioning his every decision which he wasn’t a fan of. But he knew Darius heart was in the right place. Longing after Garam for so long it felt nice to have someone who openly shared his feelings with him. Who cared for him as deeply as he cared for Garam. He hated being in the middle of the two. He wished they could get along. However, from the way they were both talking that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. “Listen I know what you heard didn’t sound the best. But I wasn’t talking behind your back. He asked if I was okay and what happened last night. Garam it affects me too. I need to talk to someone.” Angel frowned now crossing his own arms. His glance went to his feet as he tired to calm himself down. Snapping at each other would make a tense situation worse. At the end of the day it wasn’t either of their faults. “I’ll be sure to steer clear of talking about you specifically. It’s not my intention to make excuses but I wish you would see my side. Garam you showed up here battered and bruised. He was sitting right in the living room with me. Would you not ask if you were him? Especially after I kicked him out as soon as you got here? And I also defended you immediately.” Angel could feel himself getting worked up again. The feeling of Garam questioning him felt personal. Angel did his best to always put his best friend first. He went silent for a moment taking a step back. “He won’t come into your apartment. I’ll be sure he respects you. But respect is a two way street. Don’t call him a dog. He is only here to help.” Angel muttered glancing back at the door. Leaving Darius to his own devices for too long would only make the situation worse. “Take a shower. You can borrow whatever you want from my closet. I’m going to finish breakfast. We can all eat together and have a proper conversation. Clear the air. How does that sound?”

[serendipitous-girl]

warnings: suicidal thoughts, ideation, reckless behavior, depression, the works

You don't know the sound of the end until you hear it yourself. The last words you ever hear, are they harsh? Are they loving? Do they beat at your heart until it's a bloody and bruised mess of an organ? Or do they hold onto your fading love and cherish it like a generational heirloom.

Perhaps you did know what it sounded like, although you hadn't realized at the time. Saying the last love yous to your parents, kissing your baby brother's forehead for the last time. Joking around with your friends. It all came to an end, so suddenly and abruptly.

You were a ghost and surely this was some sort of hell. Trapped without those you know, struggling to survive in the strange unknown.

Your heart was empty, drained of all the blood and love it usually needs to survive. You were less than a ghost, you were a corpse. Maybe you should bury yourself alive, let the dirt swallow you whole until you are nothing but fleshy food for the creatures of the ground.

Sometimes, you wondered if you even still had blood beneath your veins. If you were to take a dagger and slice it across your palm, would that ruby red drip past or would it stay silent? Would your body cry out or would you stay forever mute?

How long have you been in this place? Months or years- it was hard to keep track when your brain had shut off long ago. A puppet for others pleasure, to be used and used. He didn't see you, not truly. He just wanted you to be useful, not to be a human.

Did you do something cruel in your old life? Was this some sort of divine punishment? Maybe this was the universe telling you, you don't deserve love or affection. You deserve this.

To be worked like a dog day and night. To be forced to save those you don't even know, all the while sacrificing your own sanity. None of these people can understand the way your body is nothing but a bag measly holding onto your soul when all you wished to do was let go.

Could they see the haunted look in your eyes? The dark bags under them? The sickly pallor of your skin? The way you dragged your feet as if it took too much energy to walk properly.

Or worse, did they see the way you treated your life with reckless abandon? The way you were so willing to die, like you were wishing it might happen already.

The night grows tired and the day awakens, more moments that you are away from your home. A fish out of water, a monster among gods.

You would have to get through another day, you would have to force yourself through it all. Just for those you didn't seem to even care for you nearly as much as you did for them. Would they die for you the way you would die for them? would they live for you the way you are for them?

One day, maybe, you might be able to feel that rope hug your neck. Or feel the liquid fill your lungs like an elixir of peace. One day, you might die. So you can once again feel alive.

But that day is not now, and it feels nowhere close. You have to protect those who can't protect themselves. You need to be there for them, even if they may not return the sentiment. Were you a hero? Perhaps, but it didn't matter. You'd take the chance to die if it were an option.

“Someday,” you whispered, your voice croaky and dry from lack of use, “I will return home.”

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[chasedeys]

https://www.tumblr.com/chasedeys/768170997377597440/httpswwwtumblrcomchasedeys768169507136159744

Omg you’re so right I’ve noticed that he’s very careful with his words when talking about Ja’Marr and I think that’s so telling like on one hand he is not playing into the media leading questions, and ok the other he wants to keep as much of their priceless relationship to himself

he doessss!!!! to be fair he always chooses his words carefully for all his interview questions that's why he usually takes notable pauses in between the words of all his answers. it always makes me laugh when the nfl/bleacherreport/bengals post clips of his interview they have to trim the dead silence in between his sentences 😭 incredibly precious of him btw

completely drained from the last ask so i can't be assed to actually link these sorry but i really want to list some moments out :') :

he always stutters (?) or like talks haltingly about ja'marr and their connection like he's choosing his words very carefully and deliberately. like think of that interview with ryan clark on his connection with ja'marr or that insane one with joe montana about finding that one special wr or smtg crazy like that or that podcast one where his hair was so fucking perfect and he talked about ja'marr being open etc etc god my brain is too fried for this sorry. oh and that panthers presser where joe laughed and said he likes watching ja'marr play!!! grauaghghhg.

ja'marr's rookie preseason drops, he said he knows the type of guy ja'marr is the kind of player he is despite all his drops. ja'marr gets his first touchdown and joe storms the field to get to him and hug his ass like they're in a romcom idk. the post game presser he makes it clear he remembers all the shit they said about ja'marr 'i thought he was dropping everything'.

this preseason getting constantly asked about ja'marr's contract and him not practicing at all. he gives pr answers sure but you can see he was 100% firm when he says ja'marr would be ready regardless and i think he also mentioned about throwing with him outside of practice?? cute! absolutely devastating for me but cute!!

the 'there’s a whole lot of ways a receiver can tell you hey get me the fucking ball' 😭 somebody wrote a headline like 'ja'marr chase question causes joe burrow to cuss for the first time during press' or something like that and i just about died 😭 kinda clickbaity but honestly it’s soooo funny of course ja’marr would be involved somehow. that presser he was off he was weirdly open?? and teasing??? and when he talked about ja'marr he still took his time to choose his words but he was a whole lot looser on the tongue than usual so boom he drops the f bomb to the shock of every single person who watches his shit.

i cant really think of anything else lmao and this isn't really in line with list sort of but i remember him getting asked about him and ja'marr or pat and travis LMAOOOOOOOO truly why would they ask him this but his voice got so?? fuck it was so????? he 100% tripped up never in my life have i seen him get so flustered and giggly and weirdly defensive. saying something along the lines of 'what do you want me to say? course I'm gonna say us (him and ja'marr) like they (travpat) would answer them' but he was soooo ???? blushy about it???? and like scrunching his entire body in that chair?????? insane man tbh. pr answer ofc but the way he answered it was giving new couple getting asked about how they got together idk. AND LIKE if you compare this with ja'marr getting asked about him and joe or josh allen and stefon diggs (😭😭 bless you all get to a point in your life that you get so close to a someone people know you as a duo instead of just a singular person that you get asked these type of questions) and he calmly without missing a beat rationally straight-faced-ly said that 'i like us more than anybody'........fuck them both so muchhhhh shut uppp 😭

ok bye :')

[sheplaysviolin]

One of the girls

“I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

Caitlyn Kirammen X female reader

Disclaimer- smut, cussing, smoking, and drinking some mentions of season 2 act 2 spoilers, and mentioning of prostitution

Extras- inspired by the song ‘One of the girls’ by The Weekend, Lily-Rose Depp and JENNIE

Enjoy :)

The city of Piltover has seen numerous attacks due to someone from the under city. Only the higher ups of the city truly know what is going on leaving the city in complete silence. But you still have to get up everyday at exactly 7 pm to start your day at the club. You obviously didn’t imagine this life for yourself while you were in school but due to the death of your father who kept the family unit afloat your education was forcibly put on hold.

He died young, only at the age of 48. Your mother completely disappeared after his death. Her ghostly figure hovering around the house. Her steps heaving and her head held low. Your father always told you that if something happens to him. You had to be responsible for the family. So now you work late into the night to sustain the life your family once had. You can tell your mom is truly thankful for your sacrifice but doesn’t show it much. She is far more embarrassed by the life you had to chose because she couldn’t get her shit together.

You get out of bed and look at your hands. Trying to see if the fight you were in yesterday is visible. Seeing that it is not you stand and start to get ready for your shift. Picking out an outfit that will hopefully get you enough money to put in the monthly payment for your younger brother’s tuition. Already running late you take some things you need to keep getting ready at work. You walk out of your room and the house is quiet and dark. A pot of stew on the stove waiting to be eaten.

You give your home one last look before leaving and locking the door behind you. The walk to the club is sketchy. Of course it is, this form of work in Piltover is illegal. But for girls like you this is your only option. You walk quietly through the city. Seeing flowers in memory of the council memories that passed away due to the attack. You observe young men slumped over clearly intoxicated crying out for someone.

After many flights of stairs you finally make it to your job. Hearing the music from outside of the building always gets you prepared for what you are about to expiernce. You knock three times rhythmically on the door letting the security know it’s one of the dancers. A tall broad man opens the door for you and gives you a quick glance. “Good afternoon Y/N, loads of people here tonight.” The man says while keeping his eyes straight avoiding eye contact.

You push your way through to get in and chuckle at his statement. “That’s every night.” You sassily reply to him. He shakes his head in disagreement and bends down closer to you. You feel his slow breathing on your neck and twitch slightly. “No, it’s different tonight.” He says ominously. You playfully push him off of you and walk away. ‘Can’t be that different, right?!’

The club is dimly lit and flashes of color appear every so often. You hear all sorts of songs tonight and men whistling at the women dancing sensually on stage. You walk to the back and open the door to the dancer only section where girls are getting ready. “Hey Y/N.” Farrah says while snorting some substance up her nose. Farrah actually introduced you to the club life without her.. you don’t even want to think about it. You smile at her and walk over in a skippy manner. “How is the money tonight?” You ask while giving her a friendly kiss on her head.

She slightly blushes and waves you off. “It’s great. Like really great. Probably best all year in my opinion!” She says excitedly. You walk over to the changing rooms and start changing. Everyday is a theme and tonight it’s ’Under the sea’ kinda stupid in your opinion but whatever. Your outfit is light blue and barely covers anything. You slip on your high heels and start to pick out your songs for tonight. “Y/N! You are on stage right now.” Your boss says while quickly scanning her eyes over her clipboard. “Okay.”

Going on stage is always nerve racking but once you are up there all of the nerves go away. Your music starts playing and you start dancing sultry and smooth. Desperate men throw their money at you that they promised to save. Your body touches the cold pole and sparks your excitement even more. While dancing you see a figure in the back with piercing blue eyes. You stare directly at them. Watching them like your life depends on it.

You try to focus on your dance while still trying to make out who the figure is. ‘Maybe it’s a regular? What no way I would’ve recognized those eyes. Hmm their hair seems kinda long, maybe it’s a woman?’

You hear men whooping and hollering over your and seeing men slouched over at the bar with an empty drink besides them. It’s usually never women in these kinds of places. With this conclusion you start to feel more into the music than ever. Squatting slowly down the pole and pressing your pelvic era near it slowly. You start to slowly walk around the pole and rolling your body. You keep eye contact with those blue eyes. You guide your hands down your body and bring it back up to suck on your fingers.

This movement always makes the men in here holler for whatever reasons. The figure starts to smirk slowly which gives you all kinds of excitement. Your song ends and the men start to stand up and clap and throw money at you. You wink at them and start picking it up slowly while mouthing ‘thank you’. You step off stage money in hand and go to the dancer section only to get ready for private rooms. “Great job Y/N! You already have a customer wanting a private room with you.” your boss says while taking an inhale from her cigarette. “Okay, let me get ready then.” You tell her while putting your money in a bag saving it to count for later. You retouch your makeup, and fix your hair a bit before walking out to the private rooms.

“Hey Y/N.” A man says while putting down his glass. It’s Harlow he’s always in here. His shaggy hair covers his deep eye bags and his forehead wrinkles. “Hey, sorry can’t talk right now private room!” you say quickly trying to avoid a conversation. He’s a nice man but he’s very pushy and if you don’t stop him. He will take up your whole shift talking about himself. “Of course baby. After him it’s my turn.” He says while attempting to wink at you but actually just closes both of his eyes. You give him a wave and keep walking.

‘Him, huh? Damn I wanted it to be ocean eyes.’ You think to yourself before opening the deep red curtain to the private room. “Hello..?” You say while entering. Before even being able to finish your sentence you see the person that was smirking at you while dancing. You were right it was a women. Infront of you is a women with her legs spread and slumped down in her chair. Her features are intriguing her teal-blue piercing eyes that shine in the dim lit room. Her long blue hair that she keeps pushing out of her face. She must be nervous. Something about her looks so familiar. “You don’t look like you are supposed to be here.” You say while closing the curtain behind you. You feel her eyes stare at your figure and you suddenly became nervous.

“What does that mean?” She scoffs at your comment. Her voice catches you off guard for a moment. “Love your accent.” You say while walking towards her. She rolls her eyes and looks at you up and down. Inspecting every part of you. “You are fucking gorgeous by the way. Wouldn’t think a face like yours would end up here.” She says to you while stretching her hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment than take it. Her long slender hands are cool to the touch. ‘Wonder what this would feel like up my.. fuck.’

You smile at her. No one has ever called hour gorgeous before. Mostly because people can’t even spell it where. “I didn’t think so either but here we are.” You giggle for a second before straddling her. You really aren’t supposed to get this close to the clients but damn this girl is different. “I don’t even really know what we are supposed to do in here. But I like this a lot already.” The ocean eyed lady says while slowly gliding her hands up and down your body. Some of you is bare due to your outfit so it tingles in a good way.

You give her a quick smirk. You start to move your hip closer to her. Grinding back and forth. She pulls you closer to her and squeezes your ass. “Can I kiss you?” She asks shyly as if you aren’t basically riding her. “Of course.” She grabs your face tightly but also comforting and pulls you into a kiss. Her mouth opening to let your inside. Everything about her is so addicting. The way her tongue slowly enters your mouth.

You slowly moan into her and she takes that as a sign to take off your top. Which is totally against the rules but fuck it. She exposes your breast to the cold air. “So beautiful.” She says before leaning into your chest. She opens her mouth and sucks on your nipples needly. “Fuck..” you mumble while resting your head on your shoulder. You have never been this intimate with someone before and this experience is out of body. She smiles into your chest hearing the sounds that you are producing just from her mouth. She grips your other breast with her free hand squeezing them.

“Damn they are soft.” This comment makes you a bit embarrassed. You start sucking on her neck and run your fingers through her hair. “Hah..” is the only sound you can make just from her sucking on you. She opens her mouth exposing your breast to the cold air and lifts your body up to take off your skirt. “Can I?” She says before sliding her index and ring finger into you. The noises your body makes is fascinating.

You start to moan into her neck. “Come on baby ride my fingers.” She whispers into your ear sending shivers down your spine. You start to adjust your self into her fingers and start to move your hips. “Fuck your tight.” She whispers while pushing more into you. You try to maintain a steady rhythm with your hips like you are on stage but this is just so different. Her long slender fingers fit so well inside you. She starts to move her fingers in and out of you.

“Ha.. I can’t.” you softly grunt. “Are you about to cum?” You nod and she smirks at you. “Come on baby.” She begs while looking at you. Your body squirms with every slightly movement she makes. “Mmhmm..” is all you can muster out before climaxing. “Good job baby.” She praises you as if she didn’t do all the work. She slowly lifts you up and takes her fingers out slowly. The slimy residue that is left on her fingers is a creamy white color. She stretches apart the two fingers that were just in you and a string of the substance is shown.

She looks at you and starts to put her fingers in her mouth sucking in her cum filled fingers. You can’t even look at her embarrassed from what just happened. She takes her fingers out of her mouth and tilts your head towards her with her thumb and smiles at you. “Beautiful.”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 !!

HIIII I hoped you liked it!! Bro I’m so terrified to finish arcane that I distracted myself and wrote this instead!! I’m so tempted to write caitvi fic bc I’ve already seen all the videos their little scene it was so hot. Well anyways bye :) until next time!!

Speaking of next time what would yall prefer- Caitvi, Viktor x reader or boxer Vi x reader ? Please tell me <3

[ghouljams]

Hi, Ghoul. Apologies for kinda venting (?) on your asks, and please ignore this if you'd like, but how does one cope with the idea (and, quite possibly, reality) of being alone for the rest of their life?

I've never been the most confident individual in my years of being alive. I'm not conventionally attractive, and I've been battling with my perception of self for like, basically my entire life. Never really had romantic relationships, other than unrequited and secret crushes. At first, I thought to myself that I could deal with being alone and unloved in that way, but I figured as I grew older that maybe I'm just trying to be tough about it. I want to have the kind of love that other people have, envious as I may sound. I want to be able to look at myself and think, "wow, despite my flaws, someone still took the risk to get to know me and chose to stay."

Of course, this is not to say that the love my tight-knit circle of friends and family aren't adequate. I'm just curious. And hopeful that someday I get to have that other kind of love.

That said, I really love your works and I am privileged to be able to read them :)) it's always such a delight to see your rambles and reblogs in my dash. <3 Hope everything is going well for you.

Hello my love. You already know I'm going to suggest therapy so I'm going to get that out of the way early.

Here's the meat of it. There are thousands upon millions of people who feel exactly the same way you do and I truly believe this is because of the way western society has structured its media/propaganda. So much of the media we consume is loaded with this idea that romantic love is this totally different thing that will complete your life and show you how worthy you are if only you can find it.

This is a load of horse shit.

One of the unhappiest times of my life was spent in my first relationship. I actually had a harder time loving myself because I was scrambling to prove I was worth being loved by a person who liked me in theory but in practice frequently flaked on dates and didn't care about my emotional wellbeing.

I say all of that because I had your same attitude of "despite my flaws they're choosing to stay with me" and ultimately she left me. Over text. It was a whole thing.

So many of you talk about being "old" and "destined to be alone" and you're like 25. Hell even if you're 50, people find love at any age, but the only way to find anyone good is to be comfortable with the fact that romantic love isn't the end all be all of love. You can fall in love with anyone, that doesn't make it a good relationship. It just means you're in love.

Also what do you mean "someone took the risk?" Are you a serial killer? Do you set fire to police cars? You sell meth? What risk do you pose to anyone? You're sad and have low self esteem. So what? That makes you a risky prospect? Your flaws of *checks notes* talking down about yourself is such a huge hurdle that it's a grave danger to anyone that wants to date you?

And I'm sorry I feel like I'm getting sort of mean but you got me in older sibling mode with this and so you're getting big sister shit.

I just- like if you truly believe that you are such a burden to date then you aren't going to get what you want out of a relationship. You'll become obsessed with the first person that reciprocates your affections and it will spiral into something that hurts you. I am speaking from experience.

My dear, i am a stranger on the internet, and I love you. This world is cruel towards tender hearts and disappointment hides in every corner, but we keep loving the world and the people in it anyway. Love finds us when we least expect it, and if you truly want that sort of love it will come to you.

But I need you to be kinder to yourself. I know you said you struggle with self image. Stop measuring yourself against other people. Stop setting up goal posts for your life. Stop thinking your flaws make you some undateable ghoul. They make you, you, and whoever you date will love you for them not in spite of them.

[talebytale]

The dark fae of the Moors found himself lurking with the shadows and against the walls, simply observing the attendees of King Stefan's party from the sidelines. The merriment, the smiles and laughter and dancing and general happiness was sickening, but they knew that there was more to this party than uniting the realms or celebrating the prince - the prince that had awoken from the curse that Mal himself had inflicted upon him - and that was intriguing, to say the least.

Peace and prosperity. It was what King Stefan was pushing for, and Mal wasn't sure if their former lover was simply trying to put on a good farce or if it came from a genuine place - was he simply afraid of what they would do next, or did he really want to move past the... ugliness that their parting had left? They weren't sure, but Mal knew that this was an... opportunity to learn more about those that lived in the other realms he had only ventured into a few times - and an opportunity to forge an alliance with those that were as like-minded as he was.

Perhaps that was why, when someone approached them from their position - leaning against the back wall with the hood of their cloak draped over their head, covering their horns and exposing him to the rest of the party - he simply arched a brow as he looked in their direction. "As a matter of fact, I do actually know where his library is located but if you were wanting to find a truly extraordinary collection, you should come to mine." After all, the books that King Stefan had had come from him - when they were young, hopeful, and with love in his heart. "The King likes to... boast about things that others have built for him though... I suppose that is very royal of him?"

They knew that some people would think their words would be stepping on the line of treason, but it was a good test to see what sort of person the man before him was and whether or not they'd be worth Mal's time.

"Though seeing as we just met, perhaps it is too soon to invite you back to my place, hm?"

LOCATION: King Stefan's Palace MUSE: Kamran Jafar Barmaki STATUS: Open

After making his rounds, Sultan Kamran Jafar Barmaki was officially spent. The new portals connecting the realms are fascinating but they are also liability. Meaning he has more so-called allies and possible enemies to gauge and maintain diplomatic relations with. A real headache. Though King Stefan has been a gracious host and the palace is comfortable enough... but Kamran dearly misses his bedchamber and, well, his consort. He has dismissed his attendants and decided to find somewhere to relax. Perhaps explore. Learn the secrets of King Stefan while at it if he can...

Kamran adjusts his red tie (he has taken quite a liking to fashion from the other realm, less fabric wasted and could be more practical with pockets) and approaches another guest. "Excuse me, dear. Hope you're enjoying the party but may I ask... would you happen to know where the library is in the palace? Or perhaps a gallery of sort. I was hoping to take a peek at the collections of His Majesty."

[godblooded]

me dipping back into the mess that is asoiaf : but what if dany’s vision wasn’t rhae but was in fact aegon in a vision of something that never was and it was not rhae whispering lyanna’s name but instead a false past dany saw at the house of the undying and we do not know whose name was whispered since ‘a dying prince’ could easily be aegon as well as rhaerhae and we know that the visions are unreliable.

[maeamian]

A related tangent that I'm going to share here to spite you all for keeping this post from dying the quiet death a post I made at midnight about an email I didn't like deserves, but when I was first considering if I was autistic and doing the whole self-evaluation thing to kick things off, one of the questions was "Are you the 'eccentric professor' of your family" which, by any objective analysis of what they meant by the question and were trying to get me to think about the answer is yes 10/10 I am indeed I know a lot of shit about specific areas and am absolutely weird.

HOWEVER, my grandfather, may his memory be a blessing, was literally a professor of chemistry and was literally known for his funky eccentric shirts, so of my family, I am absolutely NOT the eccentric professor, I'm second in the rankings probably but I can't touch the first place's qualifications for the title. I answered 'very true', but was deeply annoyed about how that constituted a lie, technically, even though it was an answer to what they were asking, which is a) the sort of thing I'm trying to talk about in the first clause of this post and b) almost a better diagnostic criteria than the actual evaluation it was from.

This may just be the autism speaking, but I fucking hate when customer surveys ask me 'how likely are you to recommend this or that to a friend' because they are lying about what they're asking. I am 0% likely to recommend almost any product to any friend and especially not by brand if at all possible, but what they want to know is 'did you have a decent experience with the thing' and that's a whole other fucking question if you want that answered fucking ask that. Except if I answer the question they're asking instead of the secret question, they yell at their employees on my behalf which I never wanted either. Terrible system, would not recommend it to a friend.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[sirfrogsworth]

Do you remember that Aussie sword guy who used to talk about medieval weapons?

And, like, he seemed pretty good at talking about swords and shit. He seemed to have a good grasp of the history and tactics. He'd analyze movie weapons for their realism and that was fun. He did demonstrations with real weapons. For a time I really looked forward to his videos popping up in my feed.

He seemed like a harmless sword-fighting aficionado.

But then I guess he wanted to spread his wings. So he started down an anti-woke path. Giving questionable critiques about media and feminism. He started defending boob armor by showing historical examples even though most of those were decorative and not battle ready like in the games.

Then he admitted he was a fan of The Daily Wire.

And that was disappointing.

I missed him nerding out about swords, ya know?

Well, Shad decided to spread his wings again.

He has become...

*bad French accent* An artiste.

You see, he types words into a little box. Then a little robot does a google image search and steals a bunch of art. Then that robot reconfigures that art to be nearly indistinguishable from the source material. Well... aside from the occasional artist watermark.

Whoops!

A.I. art is very difficult. Sometimes when you type words into the box you get a woman with 5 lopsided anime tiddies. Or 20 fingers on one hand. It takes time and effort and experience to type in the perfect magic words so that you get something close to your imagination that doesn't belong in some sort of Lovecraftian horror ripoff.

For example, check out this cool "pirate hat" I asked A.I. to place on my head.

Clearly, I am not skilled enough at typing words into a box to get a proper pirate hat.

It. Is. Not. Easy.

I heard someone say you have to type things in a box for 10,000 hours before you start getting truly masterful generations.

I mean, you can't type "marathon runners" and expect that to actually work.

THIS REQUIRES SKILL, PEOPLE.

And I am a lowly amateur. I can only dream of becoming the box-typist Shad has honed himself into.

The thing is... Shad is very upset.

He is upset that you don't like his "art" and he is ready to die on this hill.

So... before he croaks on a mound of bullshit, he has something to show you. He has created something truly brilliant and when you see it, he is convinced you will validate his considerable efforts.

Before I show you his "Not. Easy." artistic masterpiece I'd like you to sit with what he has said for a second.

Ruminate in the verbiage.

Process the ideas and points of view presented.

Digest his plea for you to accept and love his hard won battle after typing words into a box to manifest his imaginings.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Have you sat?

Ruminated?

Processed?

Digested?

Okay, here it is...

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[lawofangie]

some things i've manifested

these are some basic stories, but i have some "crazy" ones i might share if you guys want lol

note: before manifesting i used to have a pretty "normal" life. i was conventionally attractive, middle classs, etc. i didn't really "need" anything but a social life and better grades. regardless of that, i just manifested whatever i wanted and didn't limit myself. i also added a few little stories behind them.

appearance change:

changed my hair texture to curly

grew from 5'2 to 5'6

clear, even skin and skin tone (tbh i already had a really good skincare routine, my skin was super clear bc of that BUT my face used to be like 10 shades darker than the rest of my body and i had CRAZY backne and strawberry legs)

losing 30 pounds (i used to be 72kg, now i'm 58kg)

changed my shoe size (i used to be size 9 now i'm size 7)

changed my hand size (for reference, my hands used to be a little longer than my phone, i had a "pro max" sized phone.)

social life:

having good friends in my state (im from up north and was completely lonely in the state i live in now)

popularity (i used to be pretty irrelevant but now everybody likes me and wants to be around me)

getting my sp's (i manifested them from scratch and took inspired action to meet them)

having people crush on me more overtly/ getting approached more (this is kind of a weird one, before my appearance change i was pretty attractive like maybe a 7/10, but i got tired of people just ogling me and not approaching me. i only had the unattractive and overconfident guys approaching me, all the attractive ones just stared lol)

just being likable lol (people used to feel threatened by me or feel like i was standoffish for some reason. idrk tbh but it was VERY annoying. i literally used to get accused of "acting like i own the place" for being quiet and just existing 💀. i didn't really care what they thought, but i hated when they complained about it and tried to make it my problem.)

school:

higher gpa (i used to have a 3.0 but i manifested a 3.8, which is a weighted 4.0)

high grades (i used to fail many tests/exams and have a mix of a, b, and c's. now they're all a's)

dream college acceptance

teachers liking me (they actually used to hate my guts it was so annoying 😭)

school crushes liking me back (tbh they probably thought i was already attractive but they never spoke to me or seemed like they wanted to get to know me)

leaving early (my school day ends at like 12 now)

lifestyle:

living closer to the city

having my dream routine (i have my dream skincare products, haircare products, diet, and health routines.)

having a high self concept (tbh i technically always did, i knew what i wanted and deserved. i just felt more like i was being injusticed. so i got rid of the "unwilling victim" mentality. i also used to ruminate on irrelevant things, like mistakes i made, what people thought of me, etc.)

very high confidence (in my looks, abilities, judgement, etc.)

money for my parents and myself

having a busy, productive life (i used to hate school because my grades weren't contributing to anything i wanted to do in life, so i wanted a productive life outside of that.)

always getting my way

getting all sorts of things for free

and more!

i'd say this all took me around 2-3 months, not because manifesting takes time, but because i assumed a lot of things would take time. i also had periods of doubt in myself and tried to handle things in the 3d on my own for some time.. which obviously didn't work. still, all i did was assume and accept these things as true and they happened overnight, in a day, or within that week. the longest anything's taken me is like 7 days, and that was because i kept wavering in my mind. manifestation is truly instant.

but anyways, i hope this is motivational and helpful. i do have some pretty "ridiculous" stories like some revenge stories, "crazy" stories regarding sp's, some not very appropriate stories, really good things happening to me, and others.

thanks for reading! i hope this helps. 🩶

[tritoch]

the other thing I find very funny about trying to write a canon compliant wol is taking all the wolship hints extremely seriously.

I don't really wolship because I'm just fundamentally not that kind of fan. But I know for those who are, the sheer number of romance hints FFXIV throws at you can be overwhelming to parse in a context where you have a preferred/intended wolship, particularly if you're not attracted to the gender the hints are coming from in the first place (a particular tip of the hat to wlw fans navigating the g'raha of it all). I've seen plenty of people write around them or write them out or be like "no aymeric was for real inviting my wol to a nice platonic zero-subtext dinner," and God bless all of you.

But it's really funny to imagine them all as all-too-real but unreciprocated or perhaps unreciprocatable. The sheer scale of it is comedy. Spoilers for all of FFXIV follow.

Oh God, the Lord Speaker wants to have dinner, just the two of us, at his family estate and not a government building. I hope he doesn't bring up his crush on me. Thal's balls he's about to bring it up—oh thank God there's an emergency. Oh no someone got hurt! Oh no it's the teenage girl with a crush on me.

Your life is a cosmic joke. You watch the Sultana get poisoned and all your friends probably die to save your life and it's kind of all your fault in some ways, I mean at the very least you should've spoken up when they gave the teenager a private army, and then the teenage boy speaks up and is like, "hey, I guess we have at least one ally. What about if we go visit that guy who is really obviously down unbelievably bad for you and wants to lick the sweat off of you." and you have to be like, yeah, Alphinaud. Great idea. Let's do it. I'll call him.

(brief interlude: also haurchefant's DEATH hits so good if you don't reciprocate. It's okay. He gets it. You're going through a lot and even if you had time to sort through your feelings maybe you're just not into him. That would be okay! You can love someone, or the idea of someone, without needing it to be romantically reciprocated. That's chivalric, even. Knightly. So he won't ask you to lie to him and say you love him as he lies dying in your arms. He's not so low as all that. But could you smile for him as you used to? That true hero's smile of yours. And you do, and he dies. And you both know he died for a lie, in a way, or a flight of fancy. And he's okay with that. Are you? Should you be? Should he?)

Then you're into Stormblood and it's like wow, okay. That last part was all high fantasy, of course there were loyal knights and elegant princes. But this is war. Imperialism. Grim business, surely there's no way—oh no BOTH handsome young revolutionary leaders seem to have a special interest in you?! And so does the Crown Prince of the Empire? Come on, man. I should get to do the whole horrors of war thing without having to also deal with this. Gaius sucked and it was weird that he let his foster daughter run around being openly obsessed with him but at least he never made it my problem.

You can't even get away from it across dimensions. Shadowbringers is a horror story about going on a teambuilding camping trip with your work colleagues for some reason except they all suddenly got really hot and they keep touching you affectionately on the shoulder and being like "I care for you and your happiness. Truly." And also you're being stalked for the whole camping trip by two old men who are obsessed with you. The false climax of the story is that the one old man tries to betray you and give a dramatic monologue about how he loves you but the two of you are doomed by the narrative and then the other old man shoots him in the back like "no actually its MY turn to betray them and give a dramatic monologue about how our love is doomed by the narrative." Then the real climax is old man #1 backstabbing old man #2 in the middle of said monologue before old man #2 dies and gives ANOTHER wistful monologue about his doomed love. Then for the patches they're like okay so we have this even CRAZIER old man who's gonna strike when you're weak and give a dramatic monolo—

and that's without even getting into the literal soulmate ghost only you can see

my warrior of light never felt more betrayed than in that scene where Y'shtola is like "haha Alisaie and G'raha have crushes on the warrior of light." Like I thought we were COOL, Y'shtola! I work here! This situation is already in such a delicate balance! Right when I got here I met Alisaie's "friend from work" who was like oh haha so YOU'RE the one she can't stop talking about and we never followed up on that because the woman died horrifically like five minutes later right in front of us! Then when Vauthry got away and we had to do all that shit with the dwarves, G'raha kept pausing every ten minutes to be like oooooh I'm so old I'm gonna die soon...at least I got to spend some time with some people who are really important to me...in fact here's what I'd tell the person who's most important to me...actually u know them really well haha. And I just had to sit there and be like wow, dude, crazy.

even in the face of apocalypse you still gotta go back in time like 12,000 years and there's somewhere there who makes you sit and listen to his story which is that the purpose of his whole godlike immortal life was to be in a throuple with you and old man #2 from the camping trip. and you just gotta sit there the whole time knowing you/your past life is the one who broke up the throuple over politics. He's like come help me harangue the old man into streaking in public, he'll do it if you ask.

then you meet and fight and kill God and you gotta turn to the team and be like hey sorry guys can you give me a sec. I'm gonna call God by her real name because we met one time for like four days and after that the promise of meeting me again was one of the things that sustained her through her millennia of suffering. Not like that but like. Idk. Just gimme a sec!

It's a relief when you finally get to Lahabrea and he's like actually I still don't fuck with your vibe. Like thank GOD.

And my WoL is very obviously dad-shaped so Dawntrail had a very specific energy for me but I understand that for plenty of people your deepening rapport with Wuk Lamat had a romantic subtext (same for Koana depending on how you read a few of his lines). And personally I think it's the height of comedy to be like, noooo, babe, your highness, I know you and your brother the king are in love with me and want me to stick around and support you emotionally through this governmental transition haha. But it's just...the cursed wineglass, babe. I GOTTA go figure out what's up with this cursed wineglass.

It's a running gag in some of the more optional content that people are like "you have an unreasonable number of hobbies and side gigs" to the WoL from time to time. But if every time you tried picking up a new hobby some new elf started baring their soul to you, you too would be like Hey Jessie (or sometimes Krile or Tataru), my good friend who is one of the only people in my life who knows what professional ethics and work-life boundaries are, any chance you need muscle on a gig on the other side of the world? Ideally with only Cid and his ex so all libidinal energy in the room is directed towards machinery or someone who isn't me?

ironically one of the only places you get a break from psychosexual obsession is the nier content

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, nsfw, morally grey reader

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about your loser colleague… He’s the nerdiest guy, and he’s got the biggest, fattest crush on you—and it makes him utterly blind to all your tricks and how you manipulate him to do your work around the office like your own personal errand boy.

You’re not mean. You swear it! You’re not mean—you know it’s wrong of you to enjoy and abuse his attention like this without any intention of ever reciprocating it! Of course, you know it’s awful of you to string him along, never telling him you’re not into him like that, that he’s wasting his time on you, that he should move on. You’re a nice girl! You promise! Of course, if he were to actually confess, you’d tell him the truth at once! You’d let him down easy. But as it stands right now, he hasn’t asked—and so it’s innocent—both his unworded crush and your unspoken flattery. Sure, it might be a little narcissistic, but it’s not a crime for a girl to bask in attention!

Do you lead him on? Mh… well… not exactly. You’re being nice, is all. Sure, some might call what you do flirting back, but you act that way with plenty of people, not just him. If he reads into it, that’s on him. Right?

Okay, fine, so you’re a little mean. So what? Is it really so wrong of you to play with him just a little bit? No. Or… at least not entirely. Think about it—in a way, you’re making his day with your little tricks. How you return his long longing stares with your own lingering looks and coy smiles—taking him outside with you to smoke during your break, talking to him in giggles over small inside jokes you’ve developed between just the two of you, applying your lipgloss all exaggeratingly as they do in the movies, borrowing his jacket when it gets too cold for you in your inappropriate tops, squeezing your arms tightly over your chest, making your tits squish up to meet him and his shameful leer.

Truly, adults shouldn't act this way—but you just can’t help yourself!

And it’s not as if he isn’t equally guilty! Looking at you like that! It’s not as if you don’t know exactly what perverted little thoughts go tumbling through his head—picturing you naked in compromising positions, probably playing with your image like a toy doll, dressing you up in kinky clothes to fit all his dirty fantasies, making you say all sorts of vile things for him.

You’re both awful! So it’s fine. A quid pro quo, as they call it. A tit for tat if you’re nasty.

And honestly, a nerdy guy like him should know better. A pretty girl like you—popular and a sweetheart, to top it all off—he can’t seriously believe he has an actual chance, can he? Of course not—that would make him delusional. You’re not torturing him. In any case, he’s torturing himself!

And you seriously think he might just keep it up forever.

But you might be going too far this time—laying it on too thick—stretching him too thin—asking him to drive you home after an office party, giggling and all but moaning all your words in the passenger seat next to him, wearing nothing but a short little black slip, no bra, no nothing except for a pair of strappy little heals. 

“Oh! What a night—these shoes are killing me!” you sigh while taking them both off as he drives. Even in your drunk state, you can see the way his hands tighten around the wheel and how he shifts all uncomfortably in his seat, breathing thickly—it makes you smile.

You throw your head back in relief once they’re both off—chest jutting forth as you rub your thighs together. And he swallows thickly—jaw clenched so tight, he couldn’t say anything even if he had anything to say. But you know he doesn’t—you, with your milky skin on display, have rendered him speechless. 

Your smile curls at the corners, and you know it’s cruel, but you have absolutely no idea how to reel it in anymore. He makes you feel like an untouchable goddess being worshipped—makes you want to laugh as he bows his head in the dirt and prays to you with all he has.

Oh, the poor boy, you’ve got him wound so tightly around your little finger—you don’t even know how to release him anymore. You’re both in way too deep, it’s getting hard for either of you to think clearly anymore.

“I’ll follow you in—just to make sure you get to bed safely,” he offers once stopping outside your place. And lost to the wine in your bloodstream, you haven’t the slightest little hang-up over how he knows your address without having asked.

Completely oblivious, you keep floating on cloud nine, smiling while murmuring, “What a nice guy~ How ‘bout you carry me up the steps as well—” 

You’d meant it as a tease, but he takes it in all manners of seriousness, rounding the car, opening your door, and then scooping you up before your bare feet even have the chance of meeting the pavement below—but you don’t complain.

Only cheering, “Oh~” 

It’s surprising, maybe even a little bit impressive. He’s tall, but he looks more lean than anything—like an overgrown boy—a far cry from a rugged man of strength, but here he is, acting just so, carrying you like a princess—with ease, you might add. But you suppose it’s been hard for you to tell his true build from beneath those big, cozy sweaters he always wears. Resting on it now, you can tell his chest is actually quite firm.

“I didn’t know you were so strong~" You keep flirting, paying no mind to how his hands grope into your exposed skin—you can allow him that much. Otherwise, feeling too swept up in your own feminine guiles—aroused by your sheer seductiveness—hot and bothered and thinking you’re going to touch yourself to yourself tonight and laugh about how you have the poor office loser waiting on you, hands and knees.

You find your keys in your clutch and unlock the door from the cradle of his arms—before you’re carried inside like a queen, all the way to your bedroom, where he lays you down gently on your bed. 

You sigh happily at the soft, nice embrace—feeling successful while melting into the cakey mattress—all but ready to find your vibe and ride the high.  That is, until feeling a certain pair of hands start undressing you.

“Hey—what’re you doing?” you jolt, gripping your dress in a panic—looking shock-eyed into his round ones.

“Just making you comfortable,” he says softly, looking a little bit like a kicked pup—making your nerves return calm. 

Oh, of course, he is—you can’t blame a guy for trying. However, there are limits to what’s allowed in this little game of yours. And you think that’s crossing one.

“Thanks, but…” You chuckle—faking being shy while batting your lashes. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. You see—” Voice sultry as you admit, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

How you have the gall to keep teasing him is beyond you, and so you keep blaming it all on liquid courage—otherwise, certain the devil is making you do it.

“Thanks for taking me home, though.”

You smile before turning to rest on your side, facing away from where he stands by your bedside with hope in his poor eyes—oh, you almost feel bad—if only your well-fed ego weren’t already making you feel on top of the world. 

“You can leave the key beneath the welcome matt. Drive safely. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Eyes closed in bliss while grinning from ear to ear, you’ve come to terms with your terrible nature and have found the perfect way of sleeping at night despite it. Your poor colleague, so hopelessly infatuated with you and such a sucker for it—making you relive your mean girl queen bee school days all over again.

It’s the drink! You swear! It makes you feel all types of demonic—wanting to play with your favorite toy—see just how far you can take it before making him break. But, as always, one should be careful what one wishes for.

“You know…” A dark voice occupies your bedroom. From behind you. You’d thought he’d left already—gone out to his car to beat his blue-balled cock to his fantasy of you, but no. 

“Playing hard to get is one thing…” he continues. “Being a stuck-up bitch is another.”

You try to whip around, but it’s too late by then.

“You’ve had your fun with me. It’s time I have my fun with you.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his sudden change—the moment when all your teasing and tricks finally made him snap! 

He’s on top of your back. Straddling you—a heavy hand in your hair, pushing your face back down into the soft mattress below, while the other hand picks your dress up, pulling over your butt and leaving it exposed.

“Hey! What are you—” You try to make him calm down—to stop—but it’s as though nothing you say has any impact—or, no—instead, it has the complete opposite effect of what you want.

A sharp feeling blossoms across your ass cheek. It takes a moment before you realize he’d hit you—spanked you.

His grip on your hair tightens, pulls your face up to meet him where he leans down to your ear—voice venom-laced and shy of unhinged, “You’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, haven’t you? Teasing and toying with me—thinking I’ll just sit back and take it.”

His hand digs between your thighs—slipping through despite how you mend them shut—now dragging his fingers through your puffy slit, forcing two inside your tightly needy hole, uncaring to the cry it reaps from you.

“I’m the one who made your pussy wet like this, so it’s only right I have my way with it.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kageyama ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist