#Nothing lost but my sense of dignity

[nobodytellsme-anything]

violently uncomfortable with the fact that I started on tumblr as a die hard part of the Adventures in Odyssey fandom. The Christian kids’ radio show from the 90’s. My brother mentioned this to me and I did not like that. What do you mean I wrote fanfic for local troubled white boy that I couldn’t even see because it was an Audio Drama. Anyways I still love you Jason

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[salahmanarfamily]

PLEASE DON'T SCROLL 🙏🇵🇸🍉

After 468 days of a devastating war that destroyed everything, my children and I are left facing a harsh and painful reality.

The w ar has ended, but we return to nothing but rubble—no home, no shelter, no place to protect us.

My children, Yousef and Noor, who once had dreams and hopes, saw their future taken away right before their eyes.

🔴They lost everything beautiful in their lives: their childhood, their stability, and their sense of security.

🚨Today, I write this plea with a broken heart, hoping it will resonate with compassionate hearts willing to extend a helping hand.

I desperately need assistance to build a new life for my children, to secure shelter and the basic necessities of life.

🔴Any support, no matter how small, means the world to us—it is a step toward restoring our dignity and rebuilding our shattered lives.

Please help us start anew, to create a better future for my children, who deserve a chance at a decent life.

PLEASE HELP MY FAMILY 🙏🙏

PLEASE SHARE OR DONATE 🙏

MY CAMPAIGN HAS BEEN VERIFIED BY @90-ghost . @gazavetters [48].BUTTERFLY EFFECT PROJECT LINE [944].

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[redr0sewrites]

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT.

you know shadow milks female form.

scissoring...f... Scissorijg with fem shadow milk 🤤

📎 A/n: I SWEAR SOME OF U ARE INSIDE MY BRAIN GRRRR THIS IS SO YUM

📎 Cw: smut, fem!shadow milk cookie, pre established relationship, degrading, tribbing/scissoring, pwnp, reader is afab

📎 dividers

the sounds of the soft, sloppy click of your cunt against hers combined with your own salacious moans are the only noises in the luscious bedroom belonging to your lover. to you, Shadow Milk Cookie is always seemingly effortlessly attractive, but a few weeks ago, you'd accompanied him on a small mission- during which, you got to see another side of your lover for the first time- one of his alternate forms... a female one. seeing his female form had sparked an... interest, of sorts, inside you- a desperate, hasty sort of desire that had fermented for days until you'd finally blurted out your willingness to try that specific form in bed.

at the time, you had been hopelessly embarrassed, partly from your partner's teasing and partly from your loss of all remaining dignity, but that embarrassment doesn't even cross your mind as you slowly grind against her. fuck, had it all been worth it.

"look at me," Shadow Milk's voice snaps you back to the present. her command is teasing, yet strained, as she clenches against you.

"hh- lost in thought again, poppet? am i not interesting enough for you?"

you shake your head, leaning in close to melt into the crook of her head.

"answer me," she coos as thin, sharp fingernails trace up your spine.

"n-no ma'am," you mumble, heat rising to your cheeks. "was thinking 'bout you." your words are slurred from pleasure and need, and your thighs are already trembling as they frame hers. shes been teasing you all night, and you desperately want to reach your release. just the sight of her poised figure and perky breasts are arousing enough, but the dominant side that seems to be revealed along with this form is certainly doing it for you as well.

"oh? care to indulge me in your fantasies?" Shadow Milk Cookie rolls her hips abruptly against yours and you whine as your clits' kiss, rubbing together in tandem. she lets out a soft moan, indulging in the pleasure of it all as you stumble over your words.

"i was just thinking about you in general," you mewl, grinding against her with increased fervor. "nothing specific..."

one of Shadow Milk Cookie's hands finds purchase on your waist, while the other rises up, up, up to the back of your neck, firmly holding you in place against her. she finally begins to roll her hips with force, setting a slow but firm pace as she rocks against you. with a sigh, she leans in close to whisper in your ear.

"how boring... i haven't even made you come and your already so needy... but i suppose you're pretty cunt is doing all the speaking for you, hm?" you flush at her vulgar words, squirming in her grip as she holds you tight. you twitch and whine in her grasp as your pussy flutters against her, your hips moving almost automatically as you grind, and the wanton sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the smell of sex overwhelms your senses.

Shadow Milk's pace is unrelenting as she forces your hips together, the messy squelch making you flush at the vulgarity. you can already feel the coil in your stomach tightening, and you clench hard around nothing as you begin to practically hump against your partner. your juices mix as you hrind, spilling between you onto the already stained sheets. Shadow Milk mocks your eagerness, but her own voice is strained with arousal.

"h-hahh, are you close, doll?"

"ffuck, yes!" you stutter out, hips shaking as your clit pulses with each vigorous roll of your hips. "please... please can i...."

"you can cum," Shadow Milk hisses through gritted teeth, her own orgasm approaching rapidly. her words of approval send you over the edge and you cum with a vivacious moan, throwing your head back and rocking your hips with all your might, riding through your high. Shadow Milk Cookie cums in tandem with you, her own mewls of pleasure mixing with your own like a symphony as you both let your orgasms wash over you.

it takes several minutes for you to be fairly certain of your own consciousness, and you collapse backwards against the mattress. your cunt slides against your lovers with a sticky squelch as you pull away, and you whine in overstimulation. however, Shadow Milk Cookie looks at you with narrow, lustful eyes. you lay down on the pillows as you catch your breath, and she takes the opportunity to crawl on top of you, giving you a delicious show of her body. you gasp as she straddled you, inky blue hair falling weightlessly down her body and chest heaving with each breath.

"aw, you didn't think we were done, did you?"

GRRRRR NEED HER BAD. sorry this is short but URGH its been rotting in my brain rver since ive got this ask. i swear i got possessed when writing this. also the theme for this fic (like the banner) is so ass IM SORRYYY THERES NO GOOD CANON PHOTOS OF HER</3 also pls send in shmilk, pv, or black sapphire asks PLEASEEE <3

[0scxmlqrd]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 lovestruck

; in which [name] [surname], a woman with existential crisis, finds the meaning and purpose of her life—for her, player 120.

pairing: player 120 | cho hyun ju x f! reader

warning: slight angst, out of character (?), etc.

author's note: so thirsty for a player 120 | cho hyun ju x reader fanfiction I overcame my writer's block that's been goin' on for years now, lol.

YOU have no purpose in life—you believed. Well, at least that's what you'd made yourself think ever since you could remember.

You frequently would ask yourself why were you even here and what's the use of existing in this world full of nothing else but suffering.

You've tried to search it on the internet once, asked people in different online forums. Other than a hotline or basically the searching app telling you to call a therapist, you received some decent answers, but still, you couldn't get yourself to believe any of the answer they provided.

All you know is that one thing they have in common is that they are—

Subjective.

It depends.

In all honesty, you don't even know why you keep on living. Yet you've never tried ending it. You hate the feeling of pain, you hope that if you're ever going to die, it must be a quick and painless one.

The time you've spent questioning your existence turns much more worse than you had expected as in the process of finding your purpose, you lost your sense of self.

You don't know who you are anymore.

No wonder you ended up as a failure. Too lazy to finish college, jobless sprinkled with no motivation in life, no money but debt that kept piling up as each days pass by—the debt collectors are likely going to collect and sell your organs to the black market as soon as they find you.

But that's not what you fear.

Luckily, you don't have anyone that would be disappointed in you since you're all alone. An orphan, you are.

That's probably why you ended up being slapped by a random stranger on the train station over losing to a game only children would play. And what do you get in exchange? Money, of course. You have dignity of course, but when it comes to money, well... gone.

There's nothing much more important in this world than money. People who loved to claim "love" is only spouting nonsense.

Love wouldn't fill your empty stomach.

You were getting pissed playing the game you kept on losing. Your cheeks were already numb from how cruel each slap the man had been sending you.

Was it worth it? Should you quit?

Maybe just one last game and you'll get that money. Then you'd get yourself something good tonight in compensation to the sore and swollen face you'd have to endure tomorrow.

"Congratulations, you won!"

The man's clap echoed in the station. You nodded, although happy that you won, you couldn't smile as a small cut that you wondered how could it be so painful.

He handed you the money—you didn't thank him, his slap absolutely hurts, no way you're thanking him.

The man then asked you whether you want to play a game. You almost cursed him out loud after he recited your personal information out loud correctly, creep.

But after that, he handed you a card.

And you took it.

You need money to survive for tomorrow.

That's how you ended up in here.

A large, open space with large walls acting as barriers from the outside world. In front of everyone was a gigantic doll, towering everyone even from afar.

You wondered what game it was.

A sound coming from a speaker in an unknown location echoed all over the place, explaining the mechanics of the games—how to win and how you will get eliminated.

You wondered how they were going to sort out everyone who loses when there's literally hundreds of people currently.

Your eyes wandered from around the place onto each of the players your eyes could find, trying to familiarize with everyone—who knows, they might turn out to be your enemy in the future games.

Boring.

You thought to yourself as you scanned their faces. That was until your eyes came to an abrupt stop from a certain player not close behind you. You've heard of people like her, but you've never seen one in person. They must've gone through a lot for having the courage to be what they are in this country.

She seemed to felt your gaze on her and you two made eye contact. She smiled slightly at you slightly nodding her head.

Awkward, you felt. Flustered at the attention you were receiving from him. Then, another thought came through you, 'She's quite the looker,' to which you immediately shrugged off, shifting your eyes away from her to your front once again.

'Focus,' you scolded yourself. Changing your complete attention on your current and only goal—to win this game and spend every single money to yourself until you get sick tired of it.

Your thoughts were then cut short when a crazy uncle suddenly started shouting. He was basically saying that this game kills the people who lose and how everyone must listen to the rules so they could live.

Green Light!

He shouted for everyone to go and you ran as fast as you can.

Red Light!

He shouted to stop and everyone, including you, stopped. This continued smoothly until you heard a woman's scream.

Then, a loud bang echoed.

Then, a thud.

And then everyone around that woman turned chaotic. Everyone was panicking, screaming and running around. But slowly, each scream—both men and women— slowly counted down while loud bang you believed to be coming from guns shot them down each.

Good thing you followed what the crazy uncle said although it was unbelievable at first.

You thought you'd be fine as long as you follow his order. Much to your dismay, there were some factors you forgot to think of.

Green Light.

Some of the people on your side were also panicking, they started running faster. Their adrenaline finally getting through them so much that some people behind you got ahead of you.

You bit your lower lip, getting ready to sprint, collecting every single ounce of your energy. But suddenly, a woman behind you crashed onto you, causing you to trip and fall down.

'B*tch, you better not make me see you or—'

People started trampling over you. Some tripping on the process. It's painful, incredibly. Your losing more time, you knew. You cursed yourself silently for losing on the first game. Hell, you knew your dead once the timer runs out.

Nothing else could be done but curl yourself, protecting your vulnerable sides. But still, it was still painful.

You thought the pain would never end, the gigantic robotic doll still hadn't said red light and you're losing hope on whether you'd survive these people, and even if you did, you're probably going to arrive late.

To your surprise, you stopped feeling pain—but no signs of people stopping on their run. You frowned, confused as to how this happened. Maybe one of them hit your head, making your sense of pain go off.

But no, you felt someone on your back, their body covering yours.

Who?

A shadow, larger than yours was right above yours. Curious to the identity of the person, you looked up.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

The person stood up, looking right ahead and back down onto you, "Are you alright?"

It was the same pretty woman you met eye contact before, "Can you walk? We need to hurry up before the timer runs out"

You ignored the soreness around your body, "I can walk just fine, but I'm probably slower than before. You can go ahead—"

"No, let's go together. Here," she offered her hand, "C'mon, we don't have much time left!"

Time seems to slow down, your eyes glued at the figure above you, "O-Okay!"

You grabbed her hand, stood up and ran as fast as you can.

Despite the chaotic surroundings, you paid no mind to them. Your eyes were completely glued to the short-haired woman in front of you. Huh? The pretty stranger claimed that the time was running out, it seems different for you right now.

But, the time was not flowing quickly? It's not just slowing down—it stopped.

What? Did you just say you found out your life's purpose, are you serious?!

© 0SCXMLQRD

[cameronsbabydoll]

i saw you posted something similar to this yesterday – but i can totally imagine reader making rafe get a pinterest account and follow her. she’d help him make boards based of his interests (and some of her own.. aswell a wishlist of things she wants..) and rafe would be like “who tf is this lana chick?” “why is it all pink?” “what are whispers?-” he’d be so confused 😭 imagine one of his friends using his phone for a second and they’d be like “rafe why do you have pinterest downloaded..”

You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through Pinterest with Rafe beside you. He was pretending to look interested while you excitedly clicked through your boards. Today, you were showing him your favorite pins, pulling him into your wishlists, lana del rey, outfit inspo, and coquette aesthetic.

“M’kay, now we’re going to make a board for your favorite things,” you said, turning to him with your phone. “I’ll help you. We can start with like overpriced cars and watches, kay?”

He glanced at the screen, clearly uninterested but indulging you. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever.”

As you work on his boards, you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw Rafe’s eyes widening as you showed him some of your personal boards. “Now this one,” you said, scrolling to your Lana Del Rey collection, “is my favorite. lana is basically like my mother, and these are all of the aesthetics of her albums — this one is lust for life..”

Rafe stared at the screen, furrowing his brow. “Who the hell is this Lana chick?” He zoomed in on a picture of Lana sitting in a vintage car, looking all sultry and wistful. “Why’s everything pink? What’s with this?” He handed you your phone, clearly baffled. “She looks like she’s from another century.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get it Rafe! She’s embracing her songs! Not my fault you listen to like classical music.”

He scoffed. “I don’t get it, alright. And what’s this girlblogger board? What does that even mean?”

“Oh, it’s for like girly stuff,” you explained.

“Girlblogging?” Rafe stared at you like you had two heads. “What the hell are you talking about? He was still looking at your phone like it was an alien artifact.

“Because it’s a girl thing!,” you said, amused by how lost he was.

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Yeah, I’m good.” He scrolled through your Wishlist board next. “Hold on, what’s this? You’ve got, like, a thousand pins in here. A thousand, baby?”

“It’s just a collection of things I like! You know, for future reference. A girl’s gotta dream,” you teased, clearly enjoying how flustered Rafe was getting.

“Yeah, I don’t know what half this shit is. What’s a coquette?” He was genuinely confused, clearly trying to make sense of this whole Pinterest thing. “Why is it all so... pink? And what the hell’s with all the ‘girly’ shit?” He flicked through more pins and let out a dramatic sigh. “Sorry doll”

You giggling at the look on his face. “It’s an aesthetic, Rafe. You know? You’re just too masculine minded!”

Rafe just stared at you, utterly lost. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He set the phone down and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re on your own with this Pinterest nonsense, sweetheart.”

The next day at work, Rafe’s phone buzzed on his desk, and one of his coworkers grabbed it for a second to check the time. Glancing at the screen, they paused, staring at the Pinterest app.

“Rafe... why do you have Pinterest downloaded on your phone?” His coworker raised an eyebrow, smirking as they scrolled through the pins. “What’s with all the pink?”

Rafe snatched his phone back, his face red. “It’s not a big deal, alright?” he muttered, trying to cover his embarrassment. “My girl made me download it. It’s nothing.”

His coworker wasn’t letting it go. “You’re telling me you’ve got a whole Pinterest account for... your girls wishlist and her aesthetic?”

Rafe glared, irritated. “Just delete it and shut up, alright?” he snapped, desperately trying to defend his dignity.

[flemingology]

first time ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: you and jessie take the next step in your relationship

warnings: smut (18+), g!p sex, oral (r receiving), penetrative sex (r receiving), dirty talk

wc: 4.6K, used a couple prompts from @delusionisaplace!

a/n: Let's say jessie is still at chelsea here, just to make sense of the tiny bit of plot there is at the beginning of this fic, lol. also, this is... pure filth. I don't know why this was the fic that got me out of my writer's block but yeah, have it. also if the whole g!p thing is NOT your thing, then don't read it! the warning is there for a reason. it's my first time writing this dynamic, so I'm sorry if it's kinda shitty. as usual, not proofread. sorry for any mistakes.

You kept rolling your hips down into Jessie's lap, another whine escaping your lips as you could feel her growing cock pressing into you with every brush against her hips. Your head was buried in your girlfriend's neck, lips parted and softly panting as you fisted your hands in her hair. "Fuck, Jess, if we don't stop now we are not making it in time to Leah's," you said, with the last remaining bit of dignity lingering inside of you.

Leah had invited some of her Arsenal teammates and their plus ones over for a big dinner at her place, to which you'd eagerly agreed when you first got the invitation. After a bit of convincing, you'd managed to get Jessie on board too – the self-consciousness about being the only Chelsea player in a predominantly Arsenal-covered living room quickly washed away with the prospect of a little mingling with old and new friends in sight.

Right now, though, a dinner with friends was the last thing on Jessie's mind. Admittedly, it wasn't really at the front of yours either. Your every thought now laced with pleasure, you tried your absolute hardest to keep a little bit of self-control before you lost yourself completely in Jessie's touch, in the feeling of her burgeoning hard-on pressing against your awaiting core.

"Yeah", Jessie breathed against you, forcing her eyes closed because your blissed out face was pushing her towards an edge she didn't want to be at yet, "yeah, you're right," she said, but made no move to stop or get up, if anything she pushed your hips harder against hers.

You lifted your head from her neck in a vain attempt to regain some control, but seeing Jessie's baby hairs sticking against her forehead that was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, a frown etched upon her face as she concentrated on being good for you with her eyes closed, there wasn't a single cell in your body that wanted anything else but this.

"Fuck it," you mumbled underneath your breath, "we'll make up an excuse later," it was the last bit of encouragement that Jessie needed, already lifting you up from the couch before you even got a chance at finishing your sentence. You squealed as she lifted you up and you put your legs around her waist, hanging onto her while she manoeuvred the two of you up the stairs and into her bedroom.

You and Jessie hadn't gone much further than a few heated make-out sessions on either of your couches yet. The relationship was fairly new and as much as you were completely infatuated by her, you'd promised each other to take it slow. But the past week, anytime Jessie did anything but breathe near you, you wanted nothing more than to jump her bones – you were ovulating, in your defense. So when you rang her doorbell that night, having gotten ready in your own apartment for Leah's dinner, and Jessie opened the door in a white button-up shirt that was tucked into a pair of black slacks that perfectly hugged her muscular thighs, you knew you wouldn't have the self control to restrain yourself tonight.

Jessie's button-up shirt and your dress long forgotten – not without the promise that you'd wear it again for her – your girlfriend placed you on the bed and crawled on top of you. "You drive me crazy, baby, honestly. I need you so bad," she said, pulling a moan from you. Jessie had always been – and still was – quite reserved. She had her moments with you where she would turn into herself, but those were rare. With other people, though, it was rare that they would see Jessie let loose. So when you discovered that Jessie was quite the dirty talker in bed, it's safe to say you more than were surprised. Pleasantly surprised, that's for sure.

Your Canadian peppered kisses all over your face, your cheek and jawline until she reached the base of your neck, where she let her wet tongue glide over the sensitive skin all the way back up until she reached your ear, where she softly nipped on your earlobe. All your senses were overwhelmed with Jessie – you saw, heard, felt and smelled nothing but her. And you loved it.

A couple moments later Jessie still found her face nuzzled into your neck, sucking, kissing and licking all over the skin there. And as much as you liked it and it felt good, you were starting to feel quite the throb between your legs – and you wanted, needed, her to do something about it.

"Jess", you said breathily, to which she lifted her head. "Please, I need you," you continued, to which a small smirk tugged at her lips. "What do you need, love?" she asked. You groaned and threw your head back. "Your mouth, your fingers, your dick. Anything, Jess." A shiver rolled down Jessie's spine as you finished talking, purely due to the excitement of what was about to come.

The Canadian wasn't particularly someone for one-night stands, she simply loved too hard to be able to fuck someone without catching any sorts of feelings for them. That, combined with her busy schedule, meant she hadn't dated in a good while. Meaning that, for the last couple of years, the only relief Jessie could give herself was the pumping of her own hand. Merely the thought of her length being enveloped in your warm tunnel had her almost bursting.

She slowly made her way down, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over your body. You could feel her sucking your skin and marking you up, but you didn't have an ounce of self-control left in your body anymore to tell her to stop. She reached your underwear and teased you by dipping one finger underneath the waistband, but not trailing further.

"Can I take this off?" she asked softly, earning a nod from you. "I'm gonna need words, beautiful," she said, when you didn't speak up further. "I know you can do that for me," she continued, which caused you to blush. "Yeah-, yeah, that's okay. Only if you undress too," you replied. Jessie glanced down at her own body and noticed that she was still half-dressed, her lower body still covered. She stood up quickly and kicked off her trousers and socks – her swollen cock a little less restrained which caused her to sigh a breath of relief – before settling her body between your legs again.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she pulled your underwear down your legs, a string of your arousal connected to the garment. "You're soaked baby, god, you're so hot," Jessie mumbled.

Your girlfriend skipped the teasing and torturing and delved straight in, your scent way too intoxicating for the Canadian to wait any longer to taste you. Jessie licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, gathering your arousal in her mouth and spreading it all over your lips. You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips upon the feeling of Jessie's warm tongue against your heat.

"Fuck, Jess, that's so good," you said breathlessly. You had been uncertain and insecure about this moment for a long time, but you couldn't have wished for a better time to take the next step in your relationship. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jessie took your sensitive nub in her mouth and teasingly flicked her tongue across it, earning a grunt from you. You tangled your hands in her curls and gave a sharp tug when you felt her teeth graze your clit, the sting subsiding quickly when she started sucking on it again.

It wasn't long before you started to feel a tightening sensation starting to bubble up inside of you. Jessie's tongue was working wonders against your core and you were seriously questioning why it had taken the two of you so long to get to this point. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the squelching of your drenched core, riling you up further – if that was even possible. Jessie hadn't even used her fingers yet and she had you teetering on the edge.

"Jess," you breathed, trying to form a coherent sentence while the Canadian was sucking and licking on you at a relentless pace. "I'm close, baby, you're gonna make me cum," you continued. Jessie hummed into your pussy, not relenting by any means. In response, she squeezed your thighs that were resting on her shoulders. Your moans rose in pitch as she brought you closer and closer to your high, not letting her pace waver once you started squirming and bucking underneath her.

"Oh fuck, Jess, fuck, I'm cumming," you mustered, right before you felt the coil in your belly snap. You arched your back off the bed and threw your head back, your thighs locking around Jessie's head whose ministrations kept going. You let out a loud moan as you started to come down, your girlfriend guiding you through your orgasm and eventually releasing your lips with a pop as you started growing sensitive.

You dropped your legs from Jessie's shoulders and rested them on the mattress, trying to catch your breath from the mind-blowing orgasm you just had. "Fuck, that was good," you said, not needing to glance at Jessie to know there was a smug smirk plastered on her face. She rested her head on your thigh and pressed soft kisses, waiting for you to come down from your high.

A couple moments later you managed to catch your breath, and opened your eyes to look at her. "You're amazing", you said, a light smile tugging at your lips. You couldn't miss the small blush that crept upon your girlfriend's cheeks at your words. "Thank you, baby, I love making you feel good," she replied.

Another few moments of silence went by before you spoke up. "What about you?" you said, wanting nothing more than to return the favor but not really knowing how to approach the subject. After all, you were quite nervous, to put it lightly. You had never had sex with a dick before, and you definitely didn't know whether you were going to be any good at it – whether you would like it even. Jessie and you had talked about it countless of times, talked about what you thought you would like and not like, because the last thing she wanted was to make you uncomfortable or to hurt you in the moment.

"What about me?" Jessie quipped back, but you didn't miss the glint in her eyes. She climbed up your body and laid her head on your chest before you replied. "I want you to feel good too," you said softly, to which she let out a little chuckle. "Pleasuring you is more than enough, baby," she said, to which you rolled your eyes. "I'm not having that, Fleming. You know what I mean."

Jessie chuckled and looked up at you. "Are you sure? I know we said we'd take things slow on this regard," she asked. She was right. You had told her that you wanted to take things slow. You were more than comfortable with the Canadian but you didn't want to rush into things. You nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing the conversation. "Yeah, you're right. I did say that. But this feels good. It feels right," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind Jessie's ear. "So if it feels right for you too, I'm more than willing to try some things."

"It feels more than right, you know that, but I just want to make sure that you feel okay with all of this. I'd never want to rush you into doing things you'd rather not," Jessie said softly, tracing patterns on your bare chest. You pressed a kiss against her crown and took her chin between your thumb and index finger, tilting her head up towards you. You gave her an appreciative look before you spoke. "You're perfect, Jess. I love how mindful you are being, but I promise that I'm okay with this. I'd tell you if I wasn't."

Jessie gave you a nod and a warm smile before rolling off your body and sitting up, seemingly a bit nervous about her next step. She looked around hesitantly around the room. "You okay, Jess?" you inquired, now sitting up against the headboard. "Y-yeah, I was just," she breathed, voice slightly wavering. You frowned, wondering what had gotten Jessie visibly upset. "We're on the same page, right?" she asked. You cocked an eyebrow at your girlfriend. "I think so, yeah? I don't know what you mean, but I don't see how we couldn't be."

Jessie seemed to relax a little at your words. "Is it okay if I grab a condom, then?" you chuckled at her question, shaking her head in disbelief before speaking up again. "Of course, Jess, why are you so nervous about that?"

"I don't know, we hadn't verbally agreed on what we wanted next and I didn't want to just grab a condom if I wasn't sure that this is what you wanted," she explained. A small smile tugged at your lips as you leant in and cupped her cheek, pressing a tender kiss against her lips before you replied. "You're adorable. Thank you for checking in. But yeah I can confirm that this," you gestured towards Jessie's hand that was resting on the nightstand and then down towards her still-hardened member, "is what I want."

Jessie's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red and she cast her gaze away from yours, slightly embarrassed at her own uncertainty. Nonetheless, she opened her nightstand and rummaged around until she found an unopened pack of condoms. "It's been ages since I've used these, but I'm pretty sure they're not expired yet," Jessie said with a toothy grin on her face. "Well, we should make sure to get some new ones then next time we're grocery shopping," you said, a teasing smile adorning your lips as you spoke to your girlfriend. "Big plans huh?" she inquired, before bringing the condom packet to her mouth and ripping it open.

You watched on in awe as Jessie slipped the top of the condom over her tip and rolled the rest down her length. It was safe to say that Jessie's member was above average length. It was quite wide and thick. On another day, if your heart wasn't pounding in your chest, you would've probably made a comment about it. You had never had sex with a dick before, so it was safe to say that you were quite nervous about taking her, if you were going to be able to at all.

Jessie made her way back over to you and spread your legs again, settling her body in between yours as she sat back on her heels. She caressed your thighs gently and relented from doing anything, letting you set the pace for now. She could tell you were nervous. She offered you a warm, small smile before speaking up. "I'll be gentle with you, I promise. I wouldn't want to hurt you, ever," you nodded and gave your girlfriend an appreciative nod. She knew you'd never had penetrative sex with a dick before. She also knew you were nervous, so it meant a lot to you that she was reassuring you like this.

"I know. I trust you," you said, before you scooted a little closer to her, trying to wordlessly let her know that you were ready. Jessie got the hint and pushed her body towards you, hovering over you on her knees as she adjusted so her dick was lining up with your entrance. You watched on between your bodies in awe as Jessie grabbed her length and softly pushed it up and down between your folds, repeatedly bumping against your clit. You couldn't suppress the soft whimpers that escaped your lips. A couple moments later, Jessie looked up to you and searched your eyes for any signs of uncertainty. She wanted to make sure that you were fully comfortable before she pushed further. You grabbed her hand that was situated on your hip, keeping herself up, and gave it a tight squeeze.

Jessie took it as encouragement and lined herself up with your entrance, ever so slowly inching forward. She kept her eyes trained on your face as she entered you, making sure she didn't miss any signs of discomfort as she stretched you out. You closed your eyes and bit your lip as you focused on the feeling of Jessie's hardened member entering you. Despite a first orgasm, you hadn't loosened much and you could feel the way she was stretching you out. A frown was etched on your face as you tried to compose your breathing. You tried your best to relax and to loosen up for her, but Jessie couldn't push further.

"Just let it happen, baby, don't think about it too much. I can feel you tightening around me," Jessie spoke up softly. You nodded wordlessly, taking a deep breath in and trying to relax further. Jessie was still on her knees between your legs, patiently stretching you out. She, too, was having a hard time at remaining composed. Not so much because of discomfort, but mainly because she lost herself in the feeling of being wrapped up in your heat. She wasn't in deep, by any means, but your warmth was enveloping her tip and she loved the feeling.

A couple minutes, a lot of trial and error and deep breaths later, Jessie's hips were finally flush against yours. It hadn't been easy, but the feeling of being filled by your girlfriend was nothing like you'd ever experienced. Jessie was hovering over you now, wanting to be close to you instead of on her knees between your legs. "Does this feel fine?" Jessie whispered in your ear, not wanting to disturb you too much while you were adjusting to her length inside of you. You nodded wordlessly, letting your nails rake over Jessie's back. "Yeah," you breathed out. "Yeah, this is okay."

A couple more moments passed before you spoke up again. "I think I'm ready for you to move," you said tentatively. Jessie lifted her head and looked at you, searching your eyes for any discomfort. "Okay," she breathed, pressing a tender kiss against your forehead. Jessie slowly pulled her hips back, pulling out of you just until she reached the tip. She moaned softly at the sensation, pushing back inside of you and filling you to the hilt. "Fuck," you whimpered, "do that again, please."

Jessie eyed you curiously and pulled back once more, making sure her tip stayed inside of you. "Like this?" she asked, earning a wordless nod from you. She grinned slightly, pushing back inside of you and letting your warm tunnel envelop her length. "You feel so tight around me, darling, you're so hot."

By now, you had comfortably adjusted to Jessie's length. Even though you could still feel her stretching you out with every thrust, most of the uncomfortable feeling was now replaced with pleasure. Jessie found a steady rhythm that felt good to both of you, pushing in and out of you while making sure you were comfortable.

The room was now filled with the sounds of your shared moans and the squelching of your core every time Jessie pushed inside of you. You were undeniably wetter than you'd ever been. Not only the feeling of being fucked by your girlfriend and being so close to each other, the thought of her filling you up again and again was doing things to you too.

Jessie's breathing became slightly ragged the longer you continued. You could feel her thrusts were becoming a little less regular and you wondered if those were the telltale signs of her growing closer to her orgasm. You wished you could say the same, though. Although it felt good, you didn't know whether this was doing it for you. You realized that you should tell Jessie, because she wouldn't forgive herself if she came and you didn't.

You pressed your hand against Jessie's chest which caused her to halt her movements, looking up at you worriedly. "I don't think it's going to work like this, Jess. This feels good, but I don't know if it's going to get me there," you said, an inevitable blush creeping up your cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Jessie shook her head and spoke adamantly. "Don't be sorry, please. We have all night, okay? No need to rush," she said, while leaning down and pressing a loving kiss against your lips before she sat back on her heels and slowly pulled herself out of you, watching on amazedly as your core tried to suck her back in. "Like what you see?" you teased, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I do, this is hot."

Jessie pulled out of you completely and took your hands in hers. "Is there anything you would like to try? Something you think might feel better?" Jessie inquired. You shrugged, dropping the eye contact and looking away from your girlfriend. You had an idea, but you were slightly embarrassed to voice it. She frowned, grabbing your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilting your head towards hers again. "It's just me, baby, please tell me what you've got on your mind."

Your already-red face turned a shade darker, another blush creeping on your cheeks as you locked eyes with her. "Do you maybe want to, uhm, try a different position?" you asked softly, uncertainty laced in your voice. Jessie chuckled lightly and smiled brightly at you. "Of course I want to try a different position, love," Jessie reassured you, giving your hands an appreciative squeeze as you looked up at her.

You didn't really know how to progress further. You could tell that Jessie expected further explanation from you, probably an insight to what position you wanted to try. You were still feeling quite apprehensive about the whole situation, but you mustered up the courage to go further. "Maybe... uhm, do you maybe want to try from the back?"

Jessie's face lit up at what you said, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah," she chuckled, "I'm more than down to try from the back," Jessie sat back a bit to give you more room to work with, you shuffling from underneath her. You rolled your body over and pushed yourself up, holding your body up on your hands and knees. Jessie moved too, positioning her body behind yours and making sure the both of you were comfortably in the middle of the mattress.

"God, I wish you could see how good you looked from this angle," Jessie whispered. Her eyes were trained on your entrance, that was clenching around nothing. Your folds were sopping wet, your arousal smeared out all over them adding to the sensations. You turned your head and looked at your girlfriend over your shoulder, chuckling as you noticed her staring at you in awe. "You're a dork, you know that?"

Jessie let out a breathy laugh and shuffled closer to you, her dick lining up with your entrance again. "I know I am, that's why you love me" she said, not wasting another second and pushing herself inside of you again. "Oh," you said, your breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of being filled again. "Oh, yeah, that's good."

"Fuck, that's so much better, Jess. Keep going, please," you whimpered, Jessie's dick hitting your sweet spot repeatedly from the renewed angle. The Canadian propped one of her legs up next to your body for extra leverage and held your waist and started pushing in and out of you at a relentless pace. Now that she knew for sure that this felt good for you, there was no longer that mental barrier.

Your moans and whimpers only spurred her on, pleasure taking over her thoughts as her dick was enveloped in your warmth. "God, you feel so good inside of me, Jess, fuck," you got out. "Nothing will ever come close to the feeling of you around my dick, baby."

You started moving your hips back against Jessie's in time with her thrusts as a long moan escaped the Canadian's throat. "Fuck, you're incredible," she said, as you were adding to her pleasure. "You look so good like this baby, taking me so well. You're doing so good.

Her praise did inexplicable things to you. To know that you were making her feel good was working wonders on your ego. You'd been worried that you weren't going to be good enough for her, especially in the beginning as you'd have to find your footing in sex with Jessie, but tonight had blown all your doubts away.

Just as before, you could tell that Jessie was growing close to a release. This time, though, you could feel the same for you. The familiar tightening sensation started boiling up again, your breaths becoming uneven and your thrusts back against Jessie losing their strength.

"Are you close, baby? You wanna cum for me?" Jessie asked, seemingly reading your mind. You groaned deeply and mustered up a response. "God, yes, please Jessie, let me cum," you begged her. "Begging already, huh? I wasn't even denying you of anything," Jessie said with a touch of degradation in her voice which turned you on further, if that was even possible.

You threw your head down against the mattress and groaned again, not having the strength to muster up a smart response. "Go ahead, baby, cum for me, cum all over my cock," the Canadian said, finishing you off with a few harsh thrusts before you bursted all over her length, spitting out moan after moan. It wasn't long before Jessie came too, rutting harshly into you as she spurted ropes of cum into her condom. She groaned as she pulled your body flush against hers, now both of you on your knees as she fucked you through both of your orgasms.

Jessie brought of you down against the mattress when you had both come down. She laid wordlessly on top of you as she tried to compose herself and regain her breath, her dick softening and falling out of your still-drenched core. She rolled over onto her back and opened her arms for you to fall into, your head resting on her chest. You listened to her heart that was rapidly pumping.

You were the first to speak up after a couple moments. "God, that was amazing. You were amazing. I love you so much," you accentuated her words with a couple tender kisses against Jessie's lips. She smiled into the kiss. "If anything, all credit goes to you. You told me you'd never had sex with a dick before, but honestly I couldn't tell. You're everything and more," Jessie said, pulling you closer to her.

After cleaning each other up, you spent the rest of the evening in comfy clothing in each other's arms, sprawled out over the bed watching some tv. "We're gonna have to find a good excuse for Leah, by the way. I checked my phone earlier and noticed a couple missed calls."

Jessie chuckled and continued rubbed soothing patterns up and down your back. "Next time we'll make sure not to miss a dinner you agreed to. I just really couldn't withstand you this time," the midfielder confessed. "Well, that makes both of us," you pressed another tender, lingering kiss against Jessie's lips. Before long, you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[inseobts]

hello!!! could you write one about how after a fight the crew had, zoro being turned into a kid and how chaotic it would be? nothing weird just some platonic fluff if it makes sense 😭

Baby-Zoro Chaos

zoro x gn!reader (platonic)

a/n: it's not really after a fight but I thought it would have been funnier like this lmao hope you'll like it (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡

words count: 1.0k

tags: platonic, child zoro, humor

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The argument is loud. Deafening, even. Voices crash over each other like waves in a storm, and it’s absolute pandemonium. Nami’s scolding Luffy with all the fury of a woman who has had enough of everyone's nonsense, Sanji’s throwing rapid-fire insults at Zoro, and you, poor, exhausted you, are trying (and failing) to restore some semblance of order before things spiral completely out of control.

Zoro, of course, refuses to back down, his arms crossed, his expression bored but somehow still managing to radiate pure stubbornness.

“You’re a walking disaster, Mosshead!” Sanji shouts, jabbing a finger at him, his other hand dramatically planted on his hip.

“Tch… shut up, cook” Zoro grumbles, like the human embodiment of an eye-roll.

Before another insult can be launched, before the chaos can climb to its inevitable crescendo, a blinding flash of light explodes.

Everything and everyone stops. Frozen mid-argument, blinking furiously, the crew barely has time to process what just happened before Luffy, ever the first to state the obvious, shouts “WHAT WAS THAT?!”

You turn to look toward Zoro and Sanji to see what they did, and there you instantly forget how to breathe.

Zoro is… small.

Not just small. Tiny. Miniature. Pocket-sized (not really but really close).

His usual towering, muscular frame is gone, replaced by something impossibly round and chubby. His oversized clothes hang off his tiny form like a poorly fitted costume, his green bandana slipping down over his ridiculously large, confused eyes. He stares down at his own tiny hands in horror.

Zoro opens his mouth to demand an explanation, to yell, to curse, but instead of his usual gruff voice, a high-pitched squeak escapes his lips “G-guh!”

The room is silent for all of two seconds before Luffy collapses onto the floor, absolutely howling with laughter.

“ZORO, YOU’RE A BABY! THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!” Luffy shrieks, slamming his fists against the ground as he wheezes.

Everyone else trying to hide their laughs.

Zoro, whose sheer presence is usually enough to strike fear into enemies, now looks like a furious, grumpy cherub. He stomps his tiny foot, but instead of an intimidating display of anger, he wobbles, loses his balance, and tumbles forward in the most unceremonious, helpless little roll.

“ZORO!” you yelp, lunging to catch him, but he’s already on the floor, his tiny fists flailing in frustration.

“Grah!” he shouts, or at least, tries to. What actually comes out is a high-pitched, indignant wail that only makes Luffy laugh harder.

Luffy scoops Zoro up with absolutely zero hesitation “I’m carrying you now! You’re my new little buddy!” he announces, swinging Zoro around like an overexcited kid with a new toy.

Zoro, whose entire being is built on strength and dignity, is now reduced to a tiny, helpless baby being manhandled by a rubber idiot. His eyes are practically shooting laser beams of rage “Goo-goo, gah!” he shrieks, flailing his tiny limbs in protest.

“Oh my god, I am never letting this go,” Sanji says, wiping a tear from his eye “Look at you, Marimo. Acting like a little brat already.”

Zoro turns his furious, oversized eyes on Sanji and, for a brief, glorious moment, tries to scowl. But the attempt is absolutely ruined by the way his lip trembles.

“Gaaah!” he cries out, trying to push against Luffy’s chest. Unfortunately, his tiny hands are as threatening as wet marshmallows. The realization that he has lost all his usual strength hits him like a ton of bricks.

His face scrunches up. His frustration mounts. And then—

A wail erupts from his tiny lungs, loud and dramatic “WAAAAAAAH!”

“Oh my god, he’s... he's crying” Usopp gasps.

You rush forward and scoop him into your arms before Luffy can swing him around again “Shh, shh, Zoro, it’s okay” you murmur, gently rocking him, but Zoro is having absolutely none of it. He kicks, he squirms, he shakes his tiny fists in a rage.

Sanji, grinning like he just won the lottery, leans in “Aw, poor little Zoro. Did someone get all cranky?”

Zoro’s face turns an even darker shade of red. He lets out an absolutely furious, nonsensical string of babbling that sounds suspiciously like an attempt at cursing. His chubby little arms flail toward Sanji, but his baby coordination betrays him, and he just ends up smacking himself in the face.

Luffy loses it all over again, slapping the floor as he cackles “HE HIT HIMSELF! OH MY GOD, THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN!”

Zoro, still struggling in your hold, lets out another furious wail before hiccupping mid-cry. His tiny body trembles as he sniffles, his pride in absolute tatters.

You sigh, stroking his soft green hair “Okay, let’s focus, guys. How do we fix this?”

Nami, who has been suspiciously quiet, finally steps forward. She looks at tiny, blubbering Zoro and tilts her head “Do we even want to fix this?”

“YES!” Zoro shrieks, though it comes out as “BAAABYYY!”

Chopper, ever the doctor, has his hooves on his chin, deep in thought “It could be temporary. Or maybe it’s a curse? Or a weird Devil Fruit power?”

“Well, until we fix him, he’s our new baby,” Luffy declares, grinning “I’m gonna take such good care of him.”

“Grrr!” Zoro whines, but his tantrum has tired him out. His little head droops against your chest, his energy spent. His tiny fists clutch weakly at your shirt as he lets out a small, defeated sigh.

“Looks like he’s finally calming down” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji smirks “Just don’t let him near sharp objects.”

You glance down at baby Zoro, his big eyes fluttering closed as he drifts off into an exhausted nap. Even like this, tiny and helpless, there’s still something undeniably Zoro about him. Stubborn, strong, and unwilling to back down—even if his body has completely betrayed him.

Luffy grins and reaches out, poking his tiny cheek “He’s so squishy.”

Zoro grumbles sleepily, too tired to protest.

You sigh, looking at the ridiculous scene before you “We’ll figure it out...” you say, though, deep down, a part of you knows that until you do, things are going to be absolute, unhinged chaos.

But then again, when is life with the Straw Hats ever anything else?

[ficsloverblog]

A story where the reader has been fake-dating Tywin for a few months now? They married for political purposes, naturally, and because Tywin requires an heir for Casterly Rock, but there's never been any genuine love between them. People have grown suspicious of the fact that R! has yet to have taken with a child, considering they've been wed for many moons now... Perhaps just a twinge of drama is involved? It could be that Tyrion overhears rumors in court, and he promptly puts an end to it. For some strange reason, the notion of anyone speaking poorly of his lady wife makes him angry, and he's slowly starting to realize he likes her? Maybe he sees her interacting with a child, and for a split moment, his face softens, and he's ready to *properly* give her a child, lol. I'm not even sure if that counts as fake dating but 🤷 the idea is there, hopefully it made sense. It could just be their first time together instead? virgin!reader vibes, I suppose

Idle Tongues (NSFW)

Tywin Lannister x wife!reader

A/N: Giggling and kicking my feet as I got to write yet another Tywin fic. Thank you for your request, and for feeding my totally healthy obsession with this man!! Enjoy! <3

It had began as whispers, and like all things in court, it grew into something with fangs.

You heard it first in the corridor outside the sept, when a noblewoman’s handmaid flinched at your approach, silencing her tongue mid-sentence. Then in the godswood, where two ladies paused too long in their embroidery when you passed. A week later, the smile that Lady Serylla gave you at supper was edged with something sharp and pitiful.

You were a ghost among lions.

And then the words began to reach you. Not directly,they were never that bold. But woven into the silences, the way one might slip poison into honeyed wine.

Months had passed since your wedding, and still your womb remained empty. No subtle glow of pregnancy, no adjustments to your corsets, no whispers of midwives being summoned discreetly in the night. And so, naturally, the conclusion was drawn: the Lady of Casterly Rock was barren.

Your silence had always made you a quiet curiosity. Now, it made you suspect.

Some said you were too young, your body unready. Others, that you were cursed, or worse, frigid. That Lord Tywin had chosen poorly in his second wife. That perhaps he regretted you.

They never said these things where he could hear them. But the walls of the Rock were old, and the stone kept secrets badly.

You endured it as you always had: with stillness. With dignity. With hands folded in your lap and your eyes fixed somewhere above their reach.

But silence cannot drown a rumor. And in time, even Tywin heard.

It was a council meeting that ran long and frayed his patience. Trade tariffs in Oldtown. Bandit uprisings in the northern hills. A merchant's son demanding the repayment of a debt long forgotten.

He left the room without waiting for his bannermen to follow. There was a tightness behind his eyes that even the finest Arbor wine couldn’t soothe. His footsteps echoed through the hall as he cut down a side corridor, seeking quiet. He passed beneath a high window, where morning light dappled the red-and-gold stone. And there, just as he turned the corner, he heard it.

“—still no child, and they’ve been wed how long now?”

Tywin paused mid-step.

“They say she’s untouched. Or barely touched. He’s not known for tenderness, is he? Perhaps she couldn’t bear it. Or perhaps he’s lost interest.”

A low chuckle. “Can’t imagine Lord Tywin letting his new lady call the terms. And yet, here we are.”

“They say she was nervous at the wedding feast. Didn’t even look at him as he gave the toast.”

“She looked afraid.”

Tywin said nothing. He didn’t move. His hand curled around the edge of the stone arch, grip tightening.

“And what use is she if she can’t carry an heir? Pretty thing, sure. But that doesn’t last. He’s wasted a name on her.”

“Worse than a waste. A softness like that in the Rock? It’s like leaving silk in the lion’s den.”

Their laughter was quiet, but it echoed far too loudly.

Tywin stepped forward. Deliberately.

The men, minor bannermen, froze.

“My lord—”

“Your names,” Tywin said, voice low, calm, and somehow more terrifying for it.

“Ser Daryn, my lord. Of House Buckwell. This is Ser Ronnet—”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll know them when I strip you of your tongues.”

They paled.

“My lord—please, we meant no—”

“Speak of her again,” Tywin said, “Say anything of her again, and I will send your heads to your wives in a box lined with Lannister gold.”

He left them trembling in the hallway.

The words still echoed in his ears long after the corridor fell silent. A softness like that in the Rock. Worse than a waste.

He clenched his jaw. Not because the gossip was new, he’d suspected the tide of it for weeks, but because it had found a voice so near his own halls. Because those who owed him loyalty had allowed themselves to mock you as if you were decoration.

As if you weren’t his wife.

The marriage had been strategic. Practical. You were younger, softer-spoken than Joanna had been, with gentle manners and no ambition to rival his own. You asked little of him. You never pried. In truth, he had found your quiet company... agreeable.

But now…

Now, the court thought you weak. Barren.

Useless.

And something beneath his breastbone twisted at that thought.

You were in the gardens, unaware. There was a small girl in your arms—the daughter of a visiting vassal—all auburn curls and inquisitive eyes. She had tripped chasing a butterfly and scraped her knee, and while the nurses fretted, you had simply gathered her close and brushed the dust from her cheek.

You cradled her with the ease of someone who wanted children, who might have been a mother already if fate had been kinder.

Tywin watched you from the window of his solar.

Your head was bent, hair falling like silk across your shoulder. The child tugged at your necklace and you laughed. A soft, breathless thing he realized he’d never heard from you before. The warmth of it curled in his chest unexpectedly.

A strange thing, affection. It crept in, uninvited.

You looked up.

For a moment, your eyes met. He expected you to flinch, or to look away. Instead, you smiled. Not the practiced smile of court etiquette, but something simpler. Earnest. Something that made him take a step backward so he could hide from you.

That evening, he found you in the small solar that overlooked the western cliffs. You often came here to read, though he’d never seen you with the same book twice. The firelight painted your face in gold, your fingers were threaded loosely through a teacup’s handle.

You did not startle when he entered. You simply turned your gaze to him, still and composed.

“Tywin.”

Not my lord. Not since the third month. A small defiance he had allowed, though he’d never said why.

He crossed the room without speaking, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the decanter near the hearth. For a long moment, there was only the hush of the waves far below, and the soft clink of glass.

“You’ve heard,” you said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

He took a slow sip. “Yes.”

You set the teacup down.

“I imagine they thought themselves clever.”

“They thought themselves safe,” he corrected, with a touch of venom. “They were not.”

You looked away, out to the sea. “It doesn’t matter. The court will believe what it wants. They always do.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied you. Not the careful posture or the elegant gown, but the shadow beneath your eyes, the tension held so tightly in your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” he asked at last.

You blinked. Then, softly: “Because I thought you didn’t care.”

He went still.

“I assumed,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper, “that as long as I kept the peace, you would tolerate me. That was our arrangement. Wasn’t it?”

Something in his chest, something long caged, shifted.

You rose then, slowly, moving to the window. The sea wind stirred your hair, lifting it gently, and when you spoke again your voice carried a soft ache.

“They think me weak. That I cannot hold your attention. That I’ve failed my duty. That I’m only a pretty thing you regret.”

Tywin stepped forward once, then again, until he stood beside you.

“I do not regret you.”

You turned to look at him.

“I chose you,” he said. “Not for beauty. Not for meekness. I chose you because you were smart. Quiet. Because you would not scheme behind my back or sell your womb to every rumor in the Rock.”

The words were not romantic. Not tender. But they were honest.

“Then why haven’t you touched me?”

His breath caught.

It was not said accusingly. Merely… truthfully.

“I’ve been negligent,” he said. “We married for strategy. That was clear.”

You nodded.

“But I find myself regretting the… limitations of that agreement.”

The wind stirred around you, carrying the scent of wildflowers and sea salt.

“What are you saying, Tywin?”

“I’m saying,” he said slowly, “that I would like to… revisit the terms. If you’re willing.”

A silence. Not heavy. Just full.

“And if I am?” you asked.

His eyes burned into yours, unflinching.

“Then perhaps,” he said, “we should see whether Casterly Rock might finally gain its heir.”

Your breath caught.

“And if it doesn’t happen?” you asked, barely above a whisper. “If I am barren?”

“Then I will not allow them to speak your name again.”

You nodded once, careful not to smile too quickly, too much.

Later, when your maid had gone and the candles burned low, there was a knock. Just once. No hesitation.

You rose and opened the door.

He stood there, as he had stood before battle and judgment both—tall, stern, unreadable. But when his eyes found yours, something shifted. Not soft, no. But open. A gate unbarred after too many seasons closed.

“Come in,” you said, your voice even, your hands steady.

He stepped inside. You didn’t ask what had brought him. You already knew.

He did not rush to you. Tywin Lannister was never rushed. He looked at your room as if memorizing it, as if it were foreign to him even after months of shared roofs and shared vows. Then his gaze returned to you, and did not leave.

“I won’t be gentle,” he said, voice low, almost rough. “Not cruel. But not false either. I have waited too long for that.”

You swallowed. “I don’t want gentleness,” you whispered. “Not if it’s hollow.”

That was all.

He crossed to you, then—one stride, two—and his mouth was on yours.

Not sweet. Not soft. But real. His hand caught the back of your neck, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw as he kissed you like a man claiming something long denied. You parted for him, lips opening with a soft sound you didn’t recognize until it broke in your throat. One of his hands found your waist, the other pressing against the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate conquest of yours.

When he pulled back, your breath chased after him.

“Take it off,” he said, looking at your gown. “I want to see you.”

You obeyed, fingers trembling only slightly as you untied the laces, the gown slipping from your shoulders like spilled wine. You stood before him in your shift, and he reached for it without asking, lifting it over your head in one smooth motion.

His breath caught. Not audibly, but you felt it in the stillness that followed, in the heat of his gaze as he looked his fill.

“You are not weak,” he said. “Not in this, not anywhere.”

You reached for him next, unfastening his doublet with fingers more certain now. He allowed it. Watched you. His body was all tension and shadow under the firelight. Broad chest, scarred skin, the strength of a man who had spent a life at war. When you laid a hand over his heart, it beat steady beneath your palm.

He pushed you back onto the bed then, climbing over you with the slow, controlled force of a lion circling its prize. His mouth found your throat, then your collarbone. Then lower. Teeth grazed, tongue soothed. Your hips arched, and he caught them in strong hands, pinning you with ease.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much,” he said against your skin.

“I’ll tell you if it’s not enough.”

That made him smile. Just barely, but it was there.

When he pushed inside you, it was not with hesitation but with something far more dangerous: intention. You gasped, the stretch sharp at first, but grounding. He filled you slowly, deeply, until you were more full than you’d ever been.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did. And he moved.

The rhythm he set was unrelenting, but not careless. Each thrust purposeful, building heat between your hips, curling it deeper. He grunted softly when your nails dragged down his back, when your legs wrapped tight around his waist.

“Say it,” he ordered, breath ragged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, “Tywin—I’m yours—”

He caught your mouth again, swallowing the sounds you made as he thrust harder, faster. One hand found your breast, the other gripping your thigh as your body began to tremble around him.

“I’ll put an heir in you,” he growled. “I’ll make them choke on their words.”

And you shattered.

It crashed through you like a tide, white-hot and blinding, your body arching against his as you broke apart beneath him. He followed seconds later, his rhythm stuttering, teeth clenched, his release spilling deep inside you.

Afterward, he did not speak. He lay beside you, breathing heavy, his hand brushing your waist as if to anchor you both.

But when you turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded, you saw the look in his eyes.

Possession, yes. But something else too.

You weren’t simply a bride of strategy anymore, you were a woman finally seen.

[cutehoons02]

(PREVIEW)

“You have two minutes,” he said abruptly, his tone cold but his gaze lit by something he couldn’t extinguish. “And then I want you out of here.” A smile appeared on your face. You clapped your hands softly, like a child who had just been given permission to enter an enchanted forest. He raised an eyebrow, irritated. “You’ve already lost five seconds, now it’s one fifty-five.” You sighed softly, but the smile didn’t completely fade. With a gentle yet firm voice, you spoke. “I don’t want to marry Jiwon. I don’t love him. I don’t respect him. And I already know what awaits me if I become his: a house, a bed, and a future made of nothing but pregnancies and silences. I want to be bound, yes, but I also want the freedom to choose, to study, to live my life. And the only one strong enough to protect me… the only one Jiwon could never challenge… is you, Lee Heeseung.” He didn’t say anything. You swallowed, your heart racing but your gaze clear. “I know you hate me. And that’s fine. But you can use this resentment, this anger inside you… you can use it against my father. Against my bloodline. You can take revenge… with me.” An incredible silence fell over the greenhouse, the herbs seemed to hold their breath. Heeseung was shocked, staring at you with those amber eyes wide open, his jaw clenched. Then he burst out laughing, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was a brief, incredulous explosion. “You’re crazy.” You turned slightly, your face serious yet soft, your tone sweet… but sincere. “No, I’m dead serious.” He looked at you, as if trying to find a crack in your apparent calm. But there was none. And that’s what truly unsettled him. “You want to offer me your body… your virginity… as a pact for revenge? Is that what you’re proposing? To be branded by me, tied, used… just so you don’t end up in Jiwon’s hands?” You didn’t look away. “In a sense, yes, and you’re the only way to do it, no alpha has your power, and if I’m tied to you, your scent and your fragrance will be all over my body and no male will approach me, only you, Heeseung.” Heeseung’s lips curled into a half cynical smile. His eyes narrowed, dangerous. “Too bad I’ve never been the type to save princesses.” He took a step toward you, slow and ethereal. “Especially those who carry the blood of my worst enemy.” You lowered your gaze. Your fingers tightened around your bracelets as if they could save you from yourself. “The only one who can save me… is you,” you whispered. “You can take revenge… on your brother… by tying me to you.” But you didn’t manage to finish. His voice cut you off, sharp like a slap: “Pathetic.” You froze. A silent tear slipped down your cheek slowly. It slid along your face like an unsaid confession. Your omega aura blossomed, finally free, like a sweet and fragile scent that expanded in the room. You felt it, but he felt it much more. It was soft, welcoming, instinctively submissive but with a core of dignity impossible to extinguish. “You’re right…” you whispered, your voice low. “The two minutes are over.”

You turned slowly. And walked away, trying not to give in to the shame, nor to the pain, but then something happened. “Stop.” His voice was an order. A command, and you… you stopped. Not out of fear. Not because you wanted to. But because something in your omega nature forced you to obey. Omegas live to follow. To feel they belong. And with that voice… your body reacted before your mind. You turned slowly. “You’re really pathetic, but also… brave.” He took a few steps toward you, his eyes still burning with distrust, but also something else. Something that tightened his chest. “No one has ever faced me like this. No one. Least of all an omega.” He stopped in front of you, his body just inches away. His warmth was overwhelming, and his eyes, now darker, locked onto yours. “Do you know what really happens to an omega… when they’re tied by an alpha?” You swallowed. Your legs trembled. But you didn’t look away. “Yes,” you murmured. “Tell me.” You swallowed again, and with an uncertain but sincere voice, you said: “When an alpha ties an omega, his knot swells inside her… locking in for minutes, sometimes even half an hour. During that time… the omega loses complete control.” You said, looking at him with desperate eyes. “The body opens, surrenders. The scent changes. The orgasm is violent… uncontrollable. The bond forms. And… the omega can get pregnant at the first attempt, if the alpha desires. But if the omega isn’t ready… if she’s afraid… her body may react badly. The pain can become too much and yes… in extreme cases… she could die.” The silence that followed was different from all the ones before. Heeseung stared at you as if you were saying the most absurd thing… and at the same time, the truest. “And despite all of that… you want to risk being tied by me?” “Yes.” you said, sure of your words.

-------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for 900 followers! To show my appreciation, I’ll be posting a one-shot about Heeseung (this one) and another one about Jay (student AU).

I hope you enjoy the plot and this little draft I’ve written. If you’d like to be tagged, just drop your @! One of the two stories will be out on Wednesday, and the other on Saturday. This is my first time writing an Omega/Alpha one-shot, so if you have any tips or questions, feel free to message me :)

[edenmemes]

house of the dragon s2 starters

❝ there is a chill in the air. summer is well and truly through. ❞ ❝ it’s alright. there’s no reason to be nervous. ❞ ❝ i’ve little patience for the self-important, and even less for flatterers. ❞ ❝ you think me some kind of monster. ❞ ❝ it is my fault, i think, that you have forgotten to fear me. ❞ ❝ do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? ❞ ❝ i have been, at times, unkind but never untrue. ❞ ❝ mark my words, this is a black omen. ❞ ❝ it is your way, is it not? when something does not please you, you run. ❞ ❝ if i may seem so bold…you have not seemed yourself of late. ❞ ❝ i have come to see if we may uncover some path towards peace. ❞ ❝ i do not know if i trust you. and i sense there is danger in you yet. ❞ ❝ i wonder, do you have a moment for a quiet word? ❞ ❝ now i have seen your heart only belongs to you. ❞ ❝ it was worth the risk, no matter the outcome. ❞ ❝ some of us must serve in smaller ways…even if they are not what we would choose for ourselves. ❞ ❝ fuck dignity. i want revenge. ❞ ❝ you are not the player, but a piece on the board. ❞ ❝ is there no honor left in this world? ❞ ❝ stop wasting your life waiting for something that’ll never come. ❞ ❝ perhaps those who strive for the crown are the least suited to wear it. ❞ ❝ i find myself wondering…do we pursue the same end? ❞ ❝ and how would you define ‘victory’? ❞ ❝ once you get to know me, you’ll find i’m not so bad. ❞ ❝ thought you’d be happy. or at least less morose. ❞ ❝ i can sit still no longer. i must act. ❞ ❝ you struggle to see there’s an anger that blinds you. ❞ ❝ you must accept the path to victory now is one of violence. ❞ ❝ you only blame me because your true enemies are out of reach. ❞ ❝ there are many pieces at play here…some of which you can’t yet see. ❞ ❝ you will have all the vengeance you seek, but you must keep a grip on your impulses. ❞ ❝ which would you prefer? to be loved or feared? ❞ ❝ i don’t know what to think of you. i don’t know what you are, or who it is you serve. ❞ ❝ well, the gods favor the bold. ❞ ❝ you’ve thrown it away. after all i’ve done for you. ❞ ❝ what if the hand that’s done it is not to be blamed? ❞ ❝ the desire to kill and burn takes hold and reason is forgotten. ❞ ❝ the gods punish us. they punish me. ❞ ❝ the path i walk has never been trod. ❞ ❝ well…no use wondering what might have been. ❞ ❝ tales take on a life of their own…like weeds. ❞ ❝ this is not the time for blind accusations. ❞ ❝ hm, you wish to be rewarded. ❞ ❝ they will underestimate you. and this will be your advantage. ❞ ❝ i hope you do not confuse mercy with pliancy. ❞ ❝ there is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❞ ❝ i’ve never trusted you, wholly…much though i wished to, willed myself to. ❞ ❝ you can’t possibly still be angry about this. ❞ ❝ boldness is one thing, but overconfidence… ❞ ❝ this world is cold and cruel, and there are few in it who are steadfast. you, i think, are steadfast. ❞ ❝ do not coddle me. grant me at least that dignity. ❞ ❝ history will paint you a villain. ❞ ❝ do you cling, even now, to what you think you lost? ❞ ❝ a sense of humor would do you good. ❞ ❝ if the gods call me to greater things, who am i to refuse them? ❞ ❝ you have done something i feared impossible. ❞ ❝ i’m not entirely sure we can declare this a victory. ❞ ❝ you should’ve been at my side. ❞ ❝ i see all your great adventures have done nothing for your looks. ❞ ❝ a jest. one you may regret as you’re supping alone tonight. ❞ ❝ soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place. ❞ ❝ i don’t need their love. i need their swords. ❞ ❝ perhaps all men are corrupt…and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning. ❞ ❝ let us put all the old unpleasantness behind us. ❞ ❝ are you perhaps the culprit who has been tampering with my peace? ❞ ❝ every man has a weakness. ❞ ❝ everything i’ve given you, you’ve thrown back in my face. ❞ ❝ oh, take heart. you’ve already written yourself into legend. ❞ ❝ you wish to wash your hands of what you yourself set in motion. ❞

❝ war is coming to the whole of the realm. ❞ ❝ you are a strange kind of woman. ❞ ❝ there are those that have mistaken my caution for weakness. let that be their undoing. ❞ ❝ i think you used my words as an excuse to take your own revenge…to indulge the darkness you keep sheathed within you like a blade. ❞ ❝ i came here to raise swords, not corpses. ❞ ❝ i cannot blame anyone for doing what i myself would do if i could. ❞ ❝ we cannot all hide in our castles waiting for war to come to us. ❞ ❝ call it what you will…i call it war. ❞ ❝ have the indignities of your childhood not yet sufficiently been avenged? ❞ ❝ you mustn’t be shaken from this. ❞ ❝ is this an order or a request? ❞ ❝ and they will pay for this. ❞ ❝ i will not be thought weak. ❞ ❝ i mistrust this silence. ❞ ❝ oh, you make an art of provoking me. ❞

[sasahuaa]

Can you add scaramouche to your omega character series? He'd be a disastrous omega that needs lots of healing but I'm sure his partner can provide

You're doing great! I love reading your fics and characterization

Scaramouche as an omega

I was really considering Scaramouche before to start with genshin! I was a bit scared to start with Scara because I could see that I would start yapping, and almost did, I had to cut so many things bc my initial idea was to write him in all stages of his life, also not sure if you meant the canon timeline or fatui!scaramouche, but I can do that in the future, for now this fic has some brief mentions of Kabukimono and the fatui. And thank you for the kind words, it means a lot!

gn!reader; cw: contains deep dives into his mindset so he has pessimistic thoughts in some parts (like him thinking that reader is a sort of player, bur nothing too heavy)

This poor omega is indeed disastrous, since the moment his creator abandoned him, Kabukimono was left with a lot of questions regarding his worth. He does not understand, truly, by venturing around he discovered that omegas were not treated with much respect, was that the reason why his mother abandoned him? Does she think an alpha would be more appropriate to be an archon? But he was a puppet, designed by her will, it didn't make sense why she would make him an omega to begin with if that was her reasoning, so what was wrong with him?

The little fledgling was happy during his stay in Tatarasuna, Niwa was a father figure that teached him many skills, and the village helped each other, he was pampered by everyone. What a pity that disaster caused by a doctor's interest befell such a kind community.

Scaramouche felt his dignity crumble more each year, month, day, second that passed. At every step that he was corrupted by the fatui's ideals and methods - his body torn apart from Dottore's experiments - the thoughts of self-doubt grew in his mind. He wasn't enough to be a god, discarded before he had the chance to try, his hands didn't purify the water nor cut through mountains, no one would sing his name in worship, but he also wasn't enough to be human, his skin is artificial, unflawed like porcelain, not even a mechanical heart occupy the emptiness of his hollow chest. Forever lost in between the limbo of where his existence belongs.

For a being so emotional, Scaramouche wonders when was the last time he felt anything besides rage, it doesn't matter too much for him, as he learned how to use his anger as a tool. His underlings - though only in the fatui, as the people of Sumeru never faced the omega's wrath (or better worded, don't remember) - whispered out of his earreach, murmurs wondering if the beautiful omega was capable of love.

And now, carrying the title of Wanderer and face to face with the reason that made the vacant part of him tremble, he finally found the answer.

Courting

Nahida's orders indirectly led him to you, to be a student of the Akademiya would eventually force him to interact with other scholars, you being from Vahumana or not didn't matter, as students from different darshans would often benefited from cooperating. And like many people he met nowadays, he was indifferent at first, which considering his past as The Balladeer, when everyone was an annoying fly in his way, is a considerable improvement.

But for many aspects of life, even as he accepted that this would be something that he never would reach, he was interested in humanity. What makes people human, their flaws, traits, mannerisms and personality, what makes them yield or fill them with confidence. His almost deification didn’t bring him the same satisfaction as he felt with Niwa and the rest of the Tatarasuna people, but watching the Sumeru's citizens may be close enough.

If it's something he can't be, then he will appease himself by observing.

As he looks at alphas, he thinks that this is another thing that he is flawed at. In his studies, Scaramouche determined that omegas supposedly went crazy over alphas, but he never felt it before, or maybe he never gave himself a chance to try. A long time before he learned the consequences of creating genuine connections, that humans tend to betray the same way gods do.

But… he learned that they never did abandon him, that maybe he can trust again.

And while you both worked on your project, these types of thoughts ushered to the top of his mind like never before. You were nice to him,and laughed it off when he was being purposely cunning. You were also attentive, meticulous in your work and doting on him, always bringing him tea or other types of bitter delicacies, and just shrugged when he said there was no need to feed him.

He liked to see your reactions, there were moments when your behaviour took a tired and upset turn, when you mumbled curses about the things that went wrong with your work. It was somewhat relieving and entertaining to witness, that the gentle façade crumbles when faced with challenges.

“It's always better to work with a full stomach” you said, not sparing a thought that he didn't need to eat.

“This is pointless” the omega grumbled, he took a step away from the food.

“So just eat for the satisfaction of it, the success rate of content workers is higher than stressed ones” you insisted, and Scaramouche hated that.

Why do you treat it like there was no trouble in taking care of him? Getting out of your way to please others is dumb, especially for the likes of him.

The omega knows that he is a pessimist, that people always have motives behind their actions, and even Nahida didn't escape his judgement as he does not believe she is merely being kind and benevolent. You are no different, and when he is alone with his thoughts after bidding you goodbye and retiring for the day, he must find your intentions.

As he looks himself in the mirror, Scaramouche looks carefully at his appearance, “alphas and betas are always kinder to pretty omegas, we all know that they only want one thing” it's what the older men from the bazar say. He raises his hands to cup his face, fingers touching smooth skin with no marks, doe indigo eyes look back at him with something akin to divinity, and as he glances lower, he does not think his body lacks in beauty.

That must be it, they clearly are being good to me only to get in my pants!

Scaramouche is not a saint, he knew that, but since he started to work on his path to atonement, he was completely honest about himself. The omega knows that not everyone is like that, people that mask themselves behind lies and generous mannerisms are the worst kind of evil, and to think that you would be capable of that-

Hurts.

There is an annoying pain in his chest and a prickle behind his eyes. He needed proof, he will uncover the worst in you, that's a promise he made to himself.

Scaramouche was snarky and insufferable the following days, refusing to cooperate at all. And though he won't admit it, it was hard for him to do that, your scent wavered with a hint of sadness everytime he was rough, and he felt a need within him clawing to be free, he had to fight himself against releasing a comforting scent to appease you.

But his instinct quieted down whenever he saw you acting honorably to other omegas, when you held the door open for a nobody, or when you generously lent a hand to someone feeling troubled. The rage he felt was immeasurable, he growled lowly and was almost convinced to attack whoever was taking your attention from him.

So he wasn't special at all, he wasn’t needed, he wasn't wanted, it's always like that.

It all came to a boiling point when he snapped at you, harsh words thrown at your directions about what he thought you were doing, messing with omegas hearts just to set them aside when you were done getting what you wanted, truly shameful. Nonetheless, he felt regretful when he saw your pained expression.

“What made you think that?” your voice was quiet, and Scaramouche would prefer if you looked pissed by his accusations, anything to reassure him that he was right “You could have told me you were uncomfortable, I would've stopped”

Uncomfortable? He isn't uncomfortable by your actions towards him, he is… pleased that you did not shy away from a broken thing like him. What he did not like was when you did things for others that he believes should be only for him, and the perceptions he created himself even when you never gave him a reason to.

During all this time Scaramouche was overwhelmed by feelings, and though he is used to feel too much, what he felt about you was completely foreign to him, not the familial care he felt for Niwa and the kid from ages ago, not the gratefulness he felt for Nahida and the traveler for giving him a chance to atone for his mistakes, and not the kinship when he met Durin.

“So are you saying that you were running away from it?” Nahida questioned, placing a flower crown above the omega's head, aranara's joyfully circling around both of them “It's fine to be scared, and if you talk to them about it I am sure they will understand”

“How are you sure that people won't disappoint you? Don't you believe it's easier if you cut the problem by the roof so you never have to discover it?”

“I decide to give an opportunity for everyone to prove themselves, and maybe you would be happily surprised by the results” the goddess cupped his face, pinching the fat of his cheeks and giggling when Scaramouche bat her hands away “You look different since you met them, even your scent doesn't hold that sour end from before”

And he followed Nahida's advice, not because she told him what to do, but staying away from you was killing him inside. This is not normal, is it? To think the world is falling apart just because your desired person is not close by.

Moreover, he guesses that since becoming a citizen of Sumeru he started to work on redeeming himself, what is one more person to apologize for when you acted out of line?

Scaramouche prepared a basket of fruits and Padisarah flowers and headed to your work station, exchanging these types of words is still unfamiliar to him, but he made it very clear that he wanted to improve your relationship.

It's possible that the state of your relationship was just confirmed when someone he was jealous of before questioned him.

“Of course we are courting, don't ask stupid questions”

Honestly, it's possible Scaramouche just came to terms with his feelings after he said that. The omega was still astonished that he is loved back, he doesn't know if he deserves this.

And yet, he can't deny himself the pleasure of being in your arms, taking deep breaths of your scent and resting his eyes with your rumbling under his head. If he is being selfish and taking a good alpha form a good omega, so be it! No one deserves you anyway, if another omega even thinks of taking you from him they will be met with sharp teeth and claws.

You both become inseparable, while it's mostly because he enjoys spending time with you as much as you - and he sees you as one of the few people that it's not a waste of time to be together -, it's also a result of a deeply buried insecurity of being betrayed, he knows that some were misunderstandings, but it's hard to change a mindset after hundreds of years believing in it.

He prefers the reassurance coming from actions instead of words, so when his alpha permit him to scent all of their clothes and also their body, or hold him tight and shows that he belongs by their side when he is feeling bothered by the presence of another, it's moments like this that he feels the most complete.

Scaramouche is truthful in a relationship and he expects you to do the same, if he feels that he needs something and you can provide he will ask, he may not be the romantic type, but everyday he makes it very clear how much he adores you.

He doesn't have a favorite gift to receive - unless you make a table full of sweets, he will complain non-stop if you do that. Spending time together is enough for him, but he appreciates anything you give him, gift him a small plushie and say you thought of him when you saw it, perhaps he will tease you and joke a little, but he will keep it safe. If you give Scaramouche jewelry or any small token, he will bring it with him anywhere he goes. His gifts to you include artifacts he finds when Nahida sends him on expeditions, also Scaramouche doesn't have hobbies for himself, so instead he will engage on yours.

Growling

During the fatui era, growls were very frequent sounds he made, it was almost impossible that someone that worked with him and never heard him growl. And he felt so powerful doing so, a long time ago, while he still lived in Inazuma, omega's were heavily punished if they growled at someone, and though this conservative behavior diminished a lot compared to the past, it was far from being extinguished.

So with his title as a harbinger, Scaramouche growled until they all cowered by his feet, just like a god should be revered.

But since living in Sumeru, he doesn't growl as much anymore, this is because he is not as stressed as before, he lifted the weight off his shoulders that was having to act like something he would never become, he was not trying to sacrifice his body for his objectives anymore. There's the occasional growl when other people irritate him, as a warning to watch their words and actions.

In a relationship with you, Scaramouche also growls when he is feeling jealous or insecure, but overall, he does not growl at you unless he is in a deep mindset that something feels wrong, he will require reassurance in times like this.

Purring

Scaramouche doesn't remember the last time he purred, and now he is almost sure his purr box is broken. The omega has two reasons to think that, one is that it has been centuries, he does not know how to purr due to the disuse of that part of his vocal cords, another is because of the experiments Dottore made on him, turning his body almost inside out.

Nowadays he does not care whether he purrs or not, it's a thing he lived almost his entire life without, and he does not miss it.

If he somehow discovers that he can purr again, it would be an almost inaudible sound. If you want to hear it, you would need to rest your head over his chest, it's more vibrational than vocal. Scaramouche will not purr in public, for him, it's a thing that just both of you should be aware of.

Nesting

Scaramouche does not have a proper nest, actually, what he calls his nest is merely two pillows and one blanket that he carries around his home. at max he will try to put the blanket in a circular shape.

He took a while before introducing you to his nest. He was a bit insecure at first, other omega's have big and filled nests, with an enormous assortment of colors and textures, while his… during the fatui, he would say it was just another thing that proved something was wrong with him.

And he enjoys it so much when you are with him in his nest, you could be just relaxing around the house, and he would bring his blanket and wrap it around you wordlessly. It made him feel warm with adoration whenever he saw you inside something purely his.

He won't get out of his way to buy or make things for his nest, but he will increment it if it is a gift from his alpha. He thinks it is kind of lovable that his alpha would try to get things to make him more comfortable, and Scaramouche deeply appreciates that.

Marking

He marks you all the time, even before you started to officially court. His scent is now almost ingrained into your skin, and if he already had permission to give you a biting mark, he would.

It's not just a sign for other omegas that you are already committed to him, it's also a reminder for you, that you have an omega to come back to, and that he would do anything to keep you with him.

But even after he becomes confident that you won't leave him behind - no omega or yourself is going to separate you from him - he still covers you in his smell, Scaramouche became very fond of the whole process of scent marking and to claim you for himself.

It's therapeutic to him, he will nuzzle quietly your cheeks and bring the scent glands of his wrists to your neck, not a single gland of your go untouched. For him, it's a mandatory procedure that you must go through before leaving home, especially if your agendas oblige you to not be together for the rest of the day.

Subspace

He never entered subspace before you, and it also took a while for you to achieve that. He denied himself the mindset many times before, he felt kinda scared by it, to be so vulnerable. Anytime he felt that his mind was starting to feel like it was becoming cotton filled, Scaramouche immediately backed away from you and tried to distract himself.

When he does enter subspace, he is whiny and clingy, following you around your home and hugging you when you are busy, from behind if you are cooking, sitting on your lap and throwing his arms around your neck while you work.

Scaramouche feels like he took a shot of serotonin when he smells your skin, he is addicted, touching every exposed part of your body to his contentment. He also likes to bite, so you probably will be covered by marks of nibbles by the end of it.

And when he sobers up again he gets flustered easily, he can't believe he let instincts control over his body. He will hiss if you mention anything that he did during subspace. Nonetheless, he will eventually get into it again and the cycle will repeat itself.

☽ ☼ ☾

Scaramouche supposes things should turn out like they were before, that everything would come back to normal, he followed Nahida's advice, the instinct in his gut that begs to be with you, and yet, it seems worse than before. The omega may have had a strong reaction before and jumped into conclusions far from the truth, but he has also gotten used to silently pine for you, not expecting anything from it - maybe he can be and was aggressive towards other people that had your attention, but he won't mention it! -, for he can count the number of times in his long life that situations turned into his favor.

But Scaramouche reminded himself that he has to learn that your entire existence is too good to be true. You give him hope in many ways that he never imagined before. Your arms are stretched before him, holding a light blue and soft blanket.

“And for what reason would you give me that?” he stepped forward, picking the material from your hands.

“Can't you guess?” you chuckled and shook your head, the movement dispersed your scent that was reeking of amusement “If anything, see it as a gift to compensate the time we spend apart, to show how much I cherish you”

His eyes widen at the proclamation, under his nose he can smell that the blanket is scented. An item for a nest and carrying your smell, isn't that a sign of a courting gift? He couldn't help but hug the blanket tighter at the thought.

“Thank you for trying to look out for me”

For a long time he desired for a normal life, all his objectives from the past had the intention to lead to it, sadly all was for nothing, and he hopes he didn't look pitiful for that. And yet, in front of him, he saw an opportunity for that, he just needed to reach for you.

Once again, he gives himself the chance to dream of a better future.

[cloudbends]

It's been rotating in my brain for a while, so I decided to compile my thoughts about the parallels between anaxa and sunday in terms of the way their writing, personality and themes align with one another. At this point, I don't believe this is coincidental.

Anaxa sees reason and emotion as coexisting concepts instead of opposing ends. he rejects himself but he doesn't reject his humanity. he rejects his life but doesn't reject his personhood. he debatably has more faith in his students than he does in himself, because he puts so much trust in them to continue his work. to question everything. to forsake everything. to prove everything he can because he has nothing to lose. he guards his theories with his life because its literally all he has left. and i just like how antideterministic it is. they're doomed but he proves its not humanity being doomed by the gods, its humanity's ability to both doom and save itself.

the parallels between sunday and anaxa are best summed up by these two quotes from their respective trailers:

sunday: knowing there were no gods who could save people unconditionally. to change anything, you can only rely on yourself.

anaxa: gods, decry it as blasphemy - if that is all you can do [...] we alone are the true gods of this world.

How can they believe there's such a thing as a god after all they've lost? A line that particularly stuck out to me in anaxa's stories was cerces's goading of anaxa, asking him if he prayed to the titans upon seeing his hometown ruined and his sister dead. It disclosed a deeper, more personal sentiment anaxa has towards the titans than a mere desire to erase their existence. For anaxa, forsaking the gods means to wrestle control back to humanity's hands, to his hands, in the face of an uncontrollably tragic fate.

In this sense, both anaxa and sunday must deal with a desire for control, doing so by getting their respective gods out of the equation. I think Sunday's words at the grand theatre are incredibly important to this point, and indicate just how similar (if, of course, different circumstantially) their characters and arcs are:

Sunday: My desire is not to resurrect a fallen Aeon, or become one myself... my sole objective is to create a paradise free from Aeons, where the Order ensures the dignity and happiness of all humanity. A paradise exclusive to us human beings".

Sunday, for all his religious theming and imagery, wishes to forsake the gods in favour of an order of safety, to be the sole person remaining awake to guard the dreaming. I think it's very interesting that thematically, anaxa is framed as chaotic, wishing to disrupt the status quo, a perceived opposite to sunday, who in fact shares many more similarities with his mindset than you'd imagine. They both want to liberate mankind from the gods, so their fates won't be inextricably tied to the gods' whims, having grown disillusioned with them. Here however, the stark difference in their methods comes into play: while sunday's desire for humanity's happiness is regrettably robbing it of agency, anaxa's desire for humanity to gain its agency back is knowingly robbing them of their faiths.

Sunday doesn't have faith in humanity's ability to overcome hardships, and in order to be their protector, he decided to usurp the role of a god - he saw horrors so severe, that he felt he had to shoulder their protection for himself. Sunday operates by his sense of anxiety which inadvertently disclosed his lack of faith, taking things into his own hands to ensure they will go as well as possible - he can ensure the success and happiness of humanity only if he takes the burden upon himself and sees it through with his own hands. He feels only he can, or really must, be the responsible person who can shoulder the burden of protecting humanity, which inadvertently strips them of agency. Meanwhile, anaxa's entire thesis is based on his own disillusionment with the gods and faith in humanity, that his plan and eventual usurping of the titan position was in service of proving humanity's agency over the titans by their being identical beings. Anaxa has so much faith in humanity, to the point of disregarding his life and physical existence and completely trusting his students to continue what he can't finish. The blasphemer is driven by faith in humanity, while the believer is driven by distrusting the gods.

To their respective ends, they both decide to pose themselves as antagonists in the eyes of the public in order to ascend to a higher position at the expense of their own lives and well being. They're both themed and viewed as performers of sorts (depicted in stage settings, the performer and the conductor), which on the surface level, epitomise sunday as an organizer, a puppeteering figure, a follower of Order, and anaxa as the wild stage performer, a soliloquy giver, disrupting the audience's understandings of the world into chaos. I contend, however, that the complete opposite is true, making these parallels all the more compelling. Sunday's performance is entirely puppeteered and driven by his sense of anxiety, desperation, and an urge to escape reality, not being able to withstand its horrors - the order hides personal chaos. On the other side of the coin, anaxa's performance is the epitome of calculated, an argument and theory decades in the making, meant to be his final proof so he can leave the world that pained him behind to his students to nourish and give a final sacrifice for his equivalent exchange - the chaos hides personal order.

These two opposing ideas disclose the paralleling approaches anaxa and sunday take in regards to their ideals, and their differences in mental fortitude and personality. Anaxa is very self assured that his method will lead to his desired outcomes, marches entirely to the beat of his own drum, passing his thoughts to his cherished students and trusting them to continue what he doesn't believe he can survive to accomplish. Sunday, on the other hand, is defined by his insecurity, being surrounded by the hostile environment of the family, the younger figure thrust into a position of power through manipulation, and being forced to conform to it. Anaxa's figure is that of a teacher, an authority, while Sunday was inherently stuck in the position of a novice political figure, forced to sway according to the authorities around him.

Probably one of the most dominant aspects paralleling anaxa to sunday is both of their incredibly meaningful and impactful bonds they share with their sisters. While in sunday's case his bond takes central stage and in anaxa's stage we can only infer based on the little that is mentioned about it, I think it is no less significant to a thorough understanding of his character and motivations.

In both cases, two young siblings are left to fend off for themselves as their parents either die at the hands of war (sunday and robin) or decide to abandon their children (anaxa and his sister). And as such, they're each other's most meaningful connections in the world. Sunday owes robin his dream of a utopia, her ever supporter because her happiness is his, cementing his dedicating his life for the sake of others. In a similar vein, anaxa owes his sister his education, his access to knowledge, to experiments, to what is going to shape his life ambitions. However, I think what ties these characters further together is this sense of debt towards their sisters, in a way that feeds their selflessness and becomes their central means to achieve their goals.

Anaxa, in what I can infer from his character stories, genuinely views his life as disposable after his sister's death. His philosophical emphasis on equivalent exchange is, in large part, a reflection of his guilt towards his sister and her sacrifice - allowing him to study at the grove, at the expense of her own life the moment he left. In order for him to be worthy of her sacrifice - or the exchange to be equivalent - he must give away everything in order to achieve his goal. He must continuously chip away at his body, and his spirit, while insisting on retaining his heart and person, in order to make her death have meaning, for the rules of the world to make sense.

They're both so riddled with guilt, to the point it becomes their driving force. Both of their most significant human connections were to their sisters, feeling such an intense amount of debt towards both of them, that this sense of owing encourages them to keep chipping away at themselves in a subconscious effort to live up to both of their sister's "sacrifices" (robin's is more metaphorical). The kindness they received makes them eager to sacrifice more and more of themselves, creating a core of guilt that serves as their motivation to keep losing themselves for their grander goal.

The following portion of anaxa's 'chrysos' volume drew more parallels between the two in a way I can only interpret as being intentional, at the foremost through the use of the songbird motif. While sunday's charmony dove allegory bears no need to repeat, and I could write about it for hours, the following quote by anaxa is meaningful:

anaxa: I once carved a songbird that miraculously flapped its wings and took to the sky, though it circled five times at low altitude before falling...

As it is explicitly told, sunday's turning point in his life and ideology was finding charmony dove and having to confront the moral dilemma, a choice he viewed to be between freedom and security. His anxiety began to take root, as he had to watch the bird he nursed back to health attempt to fly again, and watch it plummet to its death, cementing in his minds that the weak, those he cherishes, are better kept secure than free. Ironically, he doesn't realise that he himself is stuck in such a cage, terrified of flying, and how his thought process ends up straining his relationship with the same person he so wishes to protect.

I don't think it's coincidental that anaxa chooses to emphasize the fact that the bird he manifested into life, also met its death a short amount of time after it was created by his hands. They're both left unsatisfied - they both must strive to do better, to either preserve life (sunday) or to create life (anaxa), so long as they can make sense of death. Both of these incidents end up solidifying and crystallizing their worldviews: they must sacrifice more of themselves in order to achieve their dreams. Be it a boundless utopia in sunday's case - posing himself as the sole guarding figure who shelters humanity from the terrors of existence regardless of the gods; or achieving transcendence and reaching an absolute truth in anaxa's case - by, similarly, posing himself as the one who must chip away at himself in order to prove, and give meaning, to humanity's existence regardless of the gods.

And perhaps most tragically, eventually, both sunday and anaxa were forced to sacrifice a part of themslves and lose the things they were most scared of losing. Anaxa, who was willing to sacrifice his physical well being, is forced to sacrifice his imprints on history and theory, sacrificing others memories of him, his legacy, his achievements. Sunday, whose drive for the betterment of others arose first and foremost from how much he cherished his only family, had to sacrifice his connection to her, the person closest to him, so he could protect her - they are torn apart, while ever present in each others' minds.

Something about these two, and their relationship to faith, the gods, their families, and worldviews, is deeply compelling in its similarity. They should meet up.

[monstatron]

DISTANT SILVER LININGS

( both obasi and noctis are butch lesbians, she/her ! )

GO MY YEARNING OLD WOMAN YURI‼️‼️

a warmup sketch from this morning, i’ve had this particular “vibe” in mind for noctis and obasi for a while and finally mustered the motivation to try to realize it. initially this was going to be a scene from the book but it stood well on its own as a brief glimpse into their… complicated situationship relationship :)

while “blade in the city” is a psychological horror/sci-fi book, i can’t deny that noctis and obasi’s intertwined stories are pivotal to the narrative.

The rented room was empty and dignity was fragile. Late hours of the night were fleeting, morning closed in on them like a phantom. Here the two stood beside a bed that was not their own. Sometimes being away from their homes made it all ache less. They didn't do much, only drank and talked until the sun began to rise. Thus, morning brought the reminder of what could not be. There was nothing to talk about once the sun breached the horizon.

Obasi had lost track of how many times they had ended up like this. Obasi never knew where it began or when to end it, only that they were doomed by the time they held one another. Too close for comfort, yet it felt agonizing to be apart. She decided she would try to put an end to it.

"I should go." Obasi murmured, her husky voice dampened to no more than a shallow whisper. Her heart skipped a beat. Bile made its home in her throat.

She felt Noctis’s grasp on her mane loosen, her hand shifted. “But you won't." Noctis trilled. Her voice was null of judgment, yet her piercing gaze gave Obasi a sense of belittling. Not that she minded; Noctis was right. Rather than pulling away from Noctis like she should have, her own hand drifted hazily upwards to hold Noctis.

Obasi remained in silence. She used all the strength that she could to avert her gaze from the shorter animan. Although she had known the Iron Bruiser for decades, inhibition chewed on her conscience. It gnawed on them both, picking apart their minds until there was nothing left besides the sound of hesitant breaths and beating hearts.

"No," Obasi's eyes flickered face Noctis. She held her breath. She didn't want to say goodbye to Noctis, her heart refused it. Her hand squeezed the other's wrist slightly, her voice cracked. "No, I won't."

[phoenix--quill]

Prompt 26: Facesitting

Pairing: Helmut Zemo/female reader

Rating: E (minors DNI)

Warnings: thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (male)

Length: ~2.100 words

Summery: Zemo offering you the best seat in the house

Notes: I think we can all agree that immediate post-prison Zemo would be an absolute feral, touch-starved mess once you managed to break through his walls. Also, I think that I got the years right on how long he had been in prison but honestly the Marvel timeline is so hand wavy that idk.

Also (also) we, as a fandom, talked way too much about that coat (which is distractingly amazing) and not nearly enough about that belt buckle (which have me on my knees).

AO3

“Zemo,” you moaned against his mouth, your hands clutching at the soft collar of his ridiculous coat. He had you trapped between his own strong body and the kitchen counter in the safe house, one hand in your hair while the other was harshly grasping at your hip.

“My name, drága,” he rasped as he caught your lips in another hungry kiss, “say it!”

“Helmut,” you all but whimpered, his harsh tone mixed with the feeling of his soft lips on yours were starting to scramble your thoughts. You felt your reward in the form of his thigh slide in between your own legs, making you moan again.

He’d had his hands on you for barely five minutes and yet as you rubbed yourself against his thigh, you could feel how ruined your underwear were. It was unfair, really, how wet he could make you with just a smug look, standing there in his stupid coat and oversized belt buckle.

You had to break the kiss to catch your breath though you felt his lips go straight to your neck, seemingly unwilling to break contact with your skin for long.

“Take off that ridiculous coat,” you whispered, trying desperately to claw back a little bit of dignity as he started moving his leg in-between yours.

He gave a small laugh against the column of your neck, still intent on leaving a mix of open-mouthed kisses and small bites to the delicate skin there. “If it is so ridiculous, why have you not been able to keep your eyes off of it since we met, hmm?” He raised his head to look you in the eyes, his head tilting as he took in your flushed face and hard breathing. Not that he looked any more unaffected: his pale cheeks had gained a rosy flush, his lips were swollen and his already dark eyes looked almost black. He gave a small nod and kept his eyes on yours as he slid the coat of his shoulders, folded it once and placed it neatly on the table next to you. His hands stayed on the counter top on either side of your body, caging you in but letting you take the next step, his eyes never leaving your face.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile and reached up to let your fingertips slide over his jaw. His eyes had remained as hungry as ever but you sensed trepidation in them too, though you were unsure why he would suddenly be so nervous.

“Much better,” you practically purred as your hands now had free rein to explore the full expanse of his upper body. You ran them down his neck, feeling his quick pulse under your fingertips; out over his strong shoulders and down his pecs, feeling soft fabric of his no doubt expensive sweater.

By the time you had worked your way down to his stomach, he seemed to have lost patience and surged forwards to catch your mouth in another one of his hungry kisses, both of his hands coming up to cradle your head. You could feel the muscles in his stomach clenching and unclenching under your hands and for a moment nothing else existed but the feeling of his soft, cherry-blossom flavoured lips and the crisp smell of his aftershave.

Your reverie was broken, however, as he moved his leg, still trapped between yours, more insistently against your core, making you moan into the kiss. Having had enough of this foreplay and desperately needing to actually feel him, you moved your hands further down, fumbling a bit as you tried to blindly open his belt.

“Ah ah, drága.” Rarely had anyone moved as fast as he had caught both of your wrist in his hands, holding further up his chest as the two of you stared at each other, heavy breaths mixing in the quiet apartment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked and your brow furrowed when you noticed the almost embarrassed look in his eyes.

“I’ve been in a jail cell for seven years with a camera following my every move. If you continue, it is going to be a very short night for both of us, I’m afraid.” He didn’t sound angry, per se, but there was a certain coldness in his voice, though you suspected it was mostly to cover up his embarrassment.

“You know we don’t have to-”

He silenced you by pressing his thumb to your mouth, his hand cradling your jaw. “Unless you tell me to stop, I am not resting until I have had you screaming my name.” He emphasised his point by pressing his thigh more firmly against your core, making you moan as he caught your clit perfectly. “Come, my dear, I know just what to do with you.” His smug smile and the playful glint in his eyes were back as he led you away from the kitchen and over towards the large couch in the middle of the room.

His lips returned to the side of your neck while his long slender fingers massaged your hips as he held you firmly against him. You could feel his hard member strain against his pants though you knew better than to reach for it, however much you longed to do so.

“Will you let me taste you?” he asked as he trailed his lips up the side of your cheek before catching the lobe of your ear gently between his teeth.

You nodded weakly, your head swimming at the thought of him between your thighs, and you let out a small whimper.

“Need to hear your pretty voice, drága,” he rasped against your ear.

“Yes! Please, Helmut, anything; you can do anything,” you babbled and your head tipped back as his clever tongue found the soft spot below your ear.

“Having you come on my tongue shall suffice; for now, at least.” He sounded almost matter-of-factly although as he pinched your chin and brought your face back down to look him in the eyes, you saw humour dancing in there too. “Now, take off your clothes, all of it, and come sit on my face.”

Your hands were already grasping at your own clothes before his words became clear in your mind. “Wait, sit on…?”

“My face, yes.” He rather cavalierly laid himself down on the couch and patted his chest, indicating your seat.

“Someone could see,” you said hesitantly and shot a look at the front door, mere metres from the both of you. You weren’t expecting Sam and Bucky back for hours but with the amount of uninvited guests you had already had… well you never knew.

“Then they will see the most beautiful woman in the world, taking her due pleasure,” he shrugged his shoulders but still shot you a reassuring look when you continued to hesitate. “No one will come, drága.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed though you went back to shedding your clothes, leaving it in a pile on the floor. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin and felt your nipples pebble. You wanted to cover yourself up but when you saw the look in Zemo’s eyes, you instead walked over proudly and stood in front of him. He looked starved and in a sense you guessed he was – seven years was a hell of a long time without any physical contact, from himself or others.

“Magnificent,” he breathed as he guided your legs to sit on either side of his shoulders, your hips hovering over his chin. He kissed the up the insides of each of your thighs as his hands slowly guided your hips down to sit where he wanted you to.

At the first contact of his tongue with your lips, you almost sat up again, the intensity of the pleasure that shot through you almost making you want to retreat. His hands, however, had stayed on your hips, both to hold you down and to rub reassuring circles against your skin.

You almost felt more than heard him moan against you, the vibrations in turn making you moan. “So sweet, like the freshest summer fruit; and so wet you could drown in it.” He all but growled that last part and one his hands left your hip to come down between your legs, moving your lips to either side, exposing you fully to him. He licked a hard line from your entrance to you clit and your hand flew from the armrest of the couch to bury itself in his hair, feeling his silky strands slide between your fingers. He swirled his tongue around your clit, once, twice, and you couldn’t help bucking your hips against his face and your hand tightened in his hair. A steady stream of moans and mewls fell from your lips and was soon joined by his own deep moans, as he felt you starting to take your pleasure from him.

He gave your clit a flick before moving his tongue back to circle your entrance, earning himself a broken moan of his name from you. You curled in on yourself to look down at him, immediately finding his eyes already upon you, and he held your gaze as his tongue penetrated you, moving insistently against your tight walls. With a long moan, you had to break eye contact, already you could feel pleasure rolling through you, gathering in the pit of your stomach.

He found his pace, going between circling your entrance and broadening his tongue as he licked against your walls with the occasional bump of his nose up against your clit, which had you seeing stars every time. You hadn’t realized he had removed his hand between your legs until you felt it slide up your ribcage and close around one of your previously neglected breasts. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, pinching it, and you felt yourself clench around his thick tongue.

“S-so close,” you mewled, struggling to find your words. “Need you; Helmut, please, come with me. Want you, ah-,” you had to swallow hard as his hand found your other breast, tugging harshly at your nipple. “Want us to come together.” Though your eyes felt heavy, they still managed to find his and he gave a small nod. The last hand on your hips left and you heard the tell-tale sound of his heavy belt buckle opening.

You desperately wanted to see him, to feel him in your hand, inside of you, but judging by the deep moan he let out against your core as his hand presumable made contact with his own hard member, that would have to wait.

“Come for me, then,” his breathing was hard and his words sounded muffled, as he seemed unwilling to move too far away from you. “Let me hear you scream.” His tongue made one final swirl around your entrance before he closed his lips around your clit, sucking hard at the same time as his hand tweaked your nipple.

It had the desired effect, as you vision whitened and you bowed over almost completely, the sound that left your throat more of a shriek than his name as your climax ran through your body like wildfire. If you had been able to look behind you, you would have seen his own hips arch off the seat as he came in his hand, cum spilling out onto his dark pants. Instead all you felt was the vibrations from his groan against your still clenching cunt, threatening to send you head first into another orgasm.

You whimpered, feeling slightly overstimulated, and slid off of his face and down to lie on his still rapidly rising and falling chest.

“We need to get you a bath,” you breathlessly laughed as you took in his beautiful face, currently smeared with your slick.

“In a moment,” he agreed, his eyes still closed as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. “I also do not think that counted as you screaming my name; don’t worry, though, we will simply have to try again.”

You looked up to see a cheeky smile spreading on his face though his eyes remain closed, evidently still luxuriating in the feelings coursing through him. You groaned and let your head fall back down onto his chest, the muscles in your thighs still twitching from overexertion.

[ryanisasleep]

Im dying for some Nikto x Male Reader :'( There's nothing out there for me. Can I request, Nikto with a Cocky and Arrogant S/O? Can Be SFW or NSFW Thank you ❤️

Nikto x male!reader

(I hope I satisfied it as best as I could <33)

TW: hate sex with feelings and happy ending, insults, brusing.

Ok so if you don't like this, you can block this account and nothing more.

Requests are open if you were wondering :)

Btw I changed a bit the story so it is better in some parts

Ohhhhhhh you made me think of hate sex…god I have a good fucking small story inside my stupid head….raaaaaawwww Gnawing the bars of my enclosure. Btw you are too kind :( there you go ‘boops their head’ you will be 🤍anon.

Hate you…or do I?

NSFW so MDNI - Hate sex, swearing, fighting, blood, sex with hidden feelings

Nikto enjoys seeing your cocky attitude falter as he spits blood on your self esteem and walks over your decisions saying that they are clouded by your arrogant judgment and are not safe to be considered even remotely efficient. . .you thought that being the same rank as him and having relatively the same experiences could be of some help when shaming him all day before crossing eachother’s path and growling at the mere presence of the other.

The situation escalated when he began to push you into any wall anytime he could and bruising your mouth by roughly kissing it with his teeth while digging his nails into your clothed waist. You on the other hand tried doing the same as you weren’t going down without a fight, and managed to dig some bloody cuts on his shoulders. It continued like this; bickering sessions ended up with bruised lips and trembling legs trying to push the other away to regain some dignity.

The hate and tension reached its peak when Nikto ended up pushing you into your bed and digging his teeth into your bottom lip drawing out blood and insults. He ripped off your clothes and you did the same. Some blood and bruises were forming on your bodies but that was a matter for the after.

He wanted to say ‘You did good on the last mission’ instead of ‘You fucker, you failed everything and you couldn’t even do a simple task’ as he scratched forcefully your broad back after pinching the fresh healed wounds on your torso drawing out a silent scream out your mouth. ‘Thanks for your presence and for covering my back- back there’ ‘Shut your virgin ass since you don’t do any better, at least I am a liked person around’, you flipped your positions. Now you were on top of him with your legs pressed between his and you were clamping your teeth down on his neck. It hurt a lot. . .and Nikto couldn’t accept that, his pride was too big and high to let you on him and in a swift move he turned you down on the mattress, ‘You are only good at taking it up the ass! Moron, you should have been a stripper at this point! A failed one because I bet my salary that you wouldn't even grab the attention of a drunken man ahah!’

Spit drooled out his mouth like a carnivore savoring his newly catched prey. He didn’t want to admit it but…he really wanted to see you like that again. He was lost in his own world for a while and got back to his senses after you barked back a cocky:

‘At least I am useful to something, unlike you who can only bark out orders like a certain Colonel I know and be like an angry volcano all the goodamn fucking time!' your voice was restrained as you couldn’t quiet breath since a strong hand was holding you - choking you in the messy bed.

You then yelped out in stinking pain, he sticked his fingers inside you without a warning and without an ounce of lube, such as spit. The stretch was hurtful and you hated how good the pads of his pointer and middle fingers worked around your sensible spot, fucking and overstimutaling it till you were just panting out short breaths and trying to get up on your elbows, to then try to shove the one you looked up the most off. He pushed you down again, this time forcing your neck down and letting breathing become harder, he took away his fingers and pushed your ass up. You could sense his eyes wander to all of your upper and lower back imaging all the thoughts that might be crossing his filthy and rotted brain. You hear his belt unbuckle and the low but intriguing squelches from his fingers taking some of his saliva out the mouth (you really wanted to devour that mouth harshly) and wetting down his cock.

He pushed his length inside without a warning and he grunted out at the sudden enveloping sensation trying his hardest not to bottom out. You wanted to tell him how good it felt, how much you wanted to have his hand prints on your body and how much you wanted your neck to be bruised with his teeth marks and fingers, but only a stream of curses came out of your mouth. He rams into you, mounting you and keeping you close in seemingly fear of you going away, your cock brushing repeatedly the wooly sheets creating a friction that makes you see stars and finish immediately without a warning. After a couple of more seconds he comes into you grunting like an animal, securing you under his crushing weight. He had his eyes closed, his mask long since thrown away in some part of the room and all his features visible.

You saw the burn mark on the right side covering the skin until his eye and the long slash dividing his mouth from the left. You loved him, well love was there but you couldn’t phrase it, you wanted to put your hand under his chin but all you could ever do was to choke him if possible. He feels the same, his heart swells with pain as you twooften brawl but he can't, it's too hard. Nikto wants to try and sew your situationship back to ‘’normality’’ but his voices tell him otherwise, to do anything other than good.

He stays a shameful silent. After some time of not deciding what to do, he rolled to the side and heard the aftermath still inside you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

He knows that now you will get up, clean yourself up and leave while giving him a disgusting look because you have no reason to stay, but that was not what he wanted. His stupid brain couldn’t voice his wants and needs and that resulted in the formation of this vicious cycle of this love-hate relationship. He loved you dearly, but he could only spit out venom because he didn’t know how to phrase what he felt.

Instead of letting his grip loose, he started rubbing small circles on your firm stomach feeling your toned muscle fibers underneath, the veins going under adorned the neatly taken care of hair forming a nice happy trail. You hated not shaving them so they were always short.

He put one of his hands at the center of your chest and passed his fingers between your body hair, sweaty from before, and noticed that your heart rate was very calm, calmer than it should’ve been. He inhaled your scent from the nape of your neck and reopened his eyes as he whispered an almost sad ‘’Don’t leave, please’’.

You shifted, embracing the hand on your lower stomach with your own and sighed. ‘’Why…” you were tired, tired of all of this so you decided to be patient and hear what he had to say.

All he could think of and speak was ‘’Just. . .don’t please.’’ His hands twitched, you knew that sign, he was struggling internally and maybe making some of his thoughts scram away. You took some pity on him and decided to stay as you even had no energy to get up.

A silent strange air hugged you two while he rested, he began to tighten his grip and growl a ‘’Go away, fuck i hate you’’. He was not having this yet you sensed he didn’t really mean it. After he came back, he was different, you found himself many times talking to himself or gripping his forearms in anger so tightly that you swore blood was seeping out of the wounds but as you tried to help him and make him voice what was wrong, the answer you got was ‘’Fuck off’’.

He crawled back like a wounded animal and slipped out many words between voices and strangers taunting him every waking moment of the day. You and Nikto have been first colleagues and then close friends but as he began, over the years, that cycle of insults and unnecessary sparring, you couldn’t do anything else other than fight back.

“Easy there, it’s just us and no one else. you don’t need to do and say anything, remember only things you can touch and feel are real”

It was the mantra you had made him remember like a prayer in case his episodes were becoming too much, but they could only do so little. He repeated them whispering with a broken voice as he breathed heavily.

“Sorry, for everything…” he half cried as he lost the capacity to do so many years ago and sat hiding his eyes in his hands. You turned and looked at him with a sad look, you sat too and put your hand on his back and said “It’s fine”.

With that, you two looked at eachother with knowing looks, he said he loved you but also those parts of him did not, but he did. You said you loved him too and would help him with medications if needed and how to end things up. Being in a relationship was prohibited and could result in both of you being discharged with dishonor so being together was off limits.

The other people on base remained firm in believing that you two hated each other to the bone so you two decided to stick with that routine. Night fell quickly and you found yourself in his arms sleeping the night off. In the morning though, you had to wake up early to not raise suspects.