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vinnyvamppp · 3 months ago

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MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

Multi-Fandom Writer Emoji Meanings: Pepper (Smut), Heart (Fluff), Cloud (non-sexual content) Date Created: 4/4/2025 / Guys, 10k notes and 500+ followers in two weeks is insane.

Invincible ☆ﾟ°˖*🛸𓆩⚝𓆪☽︎ Series: To Be Desired (Variant Edition) Part 1, Part 2

Variants of your childhood best friend spawn across the globe, and you find yourself in the crossfire of their previous lovers. What happens when you experience the parallel pleasure they offer? 🌶️

(Mark Grayson Edition): To Be Wanted

He was wrong, he was foolish, and he's here to make up for his mistakes. Of course, you were always the better option, and no one else needs you the way he does. (To Be Desired ABRIDGED) 🌶️ Series: The Replancement (Omni-Man) Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Earth has made him comfortable. Weak, even. His half-human son may never be strong enough to carry the Viltrumite legacy, and his pet or wife is a distraction he can no longer afford. But you offer him a solution: a true heir. 🌶️ ☁️

Mark Grayson (Solo Fics): (Head Game)

He's been distant lately, but he's willing to do anything to make it up to you... He couldn’t resist you, even if he tried. 🌶️

(Friendly Neighborhood Inconvenience)

Mark Grayson, is your biggest inconvenience and friend... whom you also live next to. Super-powered besties...? :) ♥️

(She Threw Me-- Then Kissed Me)

When the shadows of your heritage awaken for the first time in years—responding not to war, but to him—you’re left with one terrifying, exhilarating realization: You didn’t come here to be claimed. But Mark Grayson might just be the first man brave enough to try. 🌶️

(Pretty When You Cry)

He's having relationship issues with Amber, but you're willing to be his distraction... right? His tears are your love language. And he’s fluent. 🌶️

(Survival of The Weakest!)

Since your last mishap, you both enjoy some domestic comfort until Cecil returns with a mission—one that only stirs trouble. "She Threw Me-- Then Kissed Me" continuation! ☁️

(I'll Breed You Into Loyalty)

Lines blur between battle and bedroom, loyalty and lust, love and war. Mark has to face a question worse than betrayal: What if the only person who understands him is the one destined to destroy him? 🌶️

(One More Moan, Baby)

Mark Grayson finally lets you take care of him—in more ways than one. What starts as emotional vulnerability after a tough fight spirals into the kind of intimacy he’s never known when you ride him with patience and love, it pushes him past the edge, into tears, into confession, and into something real.

(No Tongue, Just Vibes)

Mark Grayson’s in love. When the emotional dam finally breaks, he comes to realize love doesn’t have to follow a script. It just has to be honest. Featuring the world’s softest superhero-level compromise. ☁️ ♥️

(Two and a Half Graysons)

You're not officially a parent, but you might as well be. You're not officially married, but everyone seems to think you are. Between shirtless mornings, grocery store tension, and baby carrier missions, the line between “dating Mark” and “co-raising a purple alien infant with Mark” gets blurrier by the day. But it’s fine. You’re emotionally stable. Probably. ☁️ ♥️

Invincible Variant Fics: Lensless Mark/No Goggles (Slap Me Silly)

Synopsis is self-explanatory! 🌶️

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner (The Psychopath)

When dinner with friends turns into a silent war of tension, touch, and self-control, it becomes clear Mark has zero intention of behaving. From under-the-table teasing that ends in a ruined pair of pants to a post-party bathroom brawl with slaps, spitting, and broken plumbing, you both spiral into a night of explosive mutual destruction.

Sinister Mark (Attention Hungry)

Advisory warning, smut included with mild themes for abuse or toxic relationships.

(Where Saints Are Buried)

To be loved as a lie, or wanted as a weapon— choose. This is not a love story, it’s a recognition. You were born righteous and powerful, but there’s always been a tremble in your hands, an ache to ruin. He sees it— Mark sees all of it. And he’s not afraid. He’s enthralled. ☁️

(Knees Up, Mouth Shut)

Across the stars, two names are whispered with fear: Invincible, a smirking black hole in the shape of a man, and the Daughter of Ares, a war-forged Amazon with thighs that have crushed kings. When a challenge is issued, winner takes control for 24 hours, they both expect victory. Now, pinned back with legs folded to his chest, pride cracking under the weight of her hips, Mark finds himself unraveling with every deep roll and breathless moan. 🌶️

Mohawk Mark + Sinister (Taking Turns)

Synopsis is self-explanatory! 🌶️

(Submitting Two Marks For Review!)

Two Mark variants, both are submissive, and you, the reader, are dominant. Pegging involved. 🌶️

(Not Her, But Mine)

He lost you in his universe. In this one, you’re not her, but that doesn’t matter. You’re still warm. Still tight. Still his. 🌶️ ☁️ Viltrum Mark (Bite Me Back)

He finds himself increasingly overwhelmed by instinctual need and possessiveness—but it’s not just lust that’s consuming him. It’s you. 🌶️

+ Multi-Variaint (Bite Me Back Too)

Each version of Mark Grayson— bratty kings, calculating monsters, broken gods— crave the same thing: your body, your loyalty, your soul. You’re a cure and a weakness they crave to keep. Consume him. 🌶️

Shiesty Mark + Omni-Mark (Double Booked)

You’re the problem that makes them argue, compete, and wreck you just to prove a point. Used, stuffed, and silenced—until you flip the game on them and make them beg to take turns. Who’s really in control? That’s the fun part. 🌶️

Atom Eve: (Atomic Heart)

With Mark gone for five years, and Eve's lips ghosting promises against your skin, you realize... it was time to take his place. 🌶️ ☁️

(Burnout)

Through her heroisms, you and Eve fostered a friendship. Watching the world beat her down through the paper broke your poor little heart... so why not offer the girl some relief for her burnout? 🌶️ ♥️

(She Who Remembers You)

In a fractured world with collapsing timelines and bleeding skies, you finally catch up to her, only to find that she remembers you. Not just your face, but who you were across universes. What you could have been. And what you might still be. 🌶️ 🌧️

(Rex + Eve + Reader, Two's Company, Three's Dangerous)

Three’s not a crowd—it’s foreplay. When Rex and Eve decide to start pulling girls together, they don’t expect you to walk in and flip the game on its head. Now you're all tangled in teasing, tension, and a whole lot of trouble they can't stop chasing. ☁️

Rex Splode/Rex Sloan: (Blow it Up, Babe-- Its Therapy)

Rex decides the best stress relief is blowing stuff up—Rex-style. What starts as a chaotic night of grenades and bad ideas turns unexpectedly soft when he realizes just how much he actually cares about you. ♥️

Drabbles: "Sit, Stay, Counter."

In which you, a mere civilian with either questionable upper body strength or pure audacity, attempt to lift various overpowered Viltrumite men and sit them on the kitchen counter like they’re your pretty little trophy husbands. ☁️

Long-Form Special Requests: Spice & Distruction ☁️ (Oc VS. Variants)

Avatar (The Way of Water)⭒-.⋆🪼⋆.-⭒ Jake Sully (Solo Fics): (Everything But In)

You find yourself bonded to both Jake and Neytiri. As time went on, even the simplest aspects of your personality began to captivate him. It felt wrong, like a transgression against his morals. Yet, you remained there, so... prettily and he came to yearn you just as you did him. 🌶️

Jake Sully + Neytiri (Roll For Me)

In which the camera of the audience captures the erotic gasps in the night between three sweat-glistening bodies in the forests of Pandora. 🌶️

Past Projects (Scrapped Works) Any published prior ↵↵↵↵

Devil May Cry DMC HEADCANONS ⛧☾༺♰༻��⛧

Synopsis is self-explanatory.

DC COMICS (BatFam so far!) Dick Grayson (Runway Walk)

With twenty minutes to curtain call, a locked dressing room door, and a desk sturdy enough to ruin, you're about to discover there's nothing more dangerous than a man in a suit… especially when you designed it to come off. 🌶️ ♥️

(The Gloves Come Off)

Training with Dick Grayson was always intense, but when a spar spirals into something messier — something needy, and unforgiving, you learn just how well Nightwing reads a body under pressure. In the end, it’s not just your bodies on the line. It’s the way you come undone for each other — breathless and craving more. 🌶️

(Your Name Lives Under My Tongue જ⁀➴ ♡)

You haunt their thoughts like a song stuck on repeat—pulling them closer with every heartbeat, every whispered “come here.” Inspired by Love Me Not by Ravyn Lenae. 🌧️

CastleVania ⛧°。°⛧ ⋆༺♱༻⋆。°⛧ Pending....

Content across this masterlist; some pieces are fem/male-presenting, while others are gender-neutral. You're warmly encouraged to make requests! Whether it's different sexualities, disabilities, neurodivergence, or any other specific representation, you're hoping to see.

#masterlist #writers on tumblr #blogblr #blog directory #vinnyvamppp #x reader #multifandom account #gn reader #fem reader #smut #fluff #one shot #blog post #fandom writing #invincible #invincible masterlist #avatar the way of water

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sometimescherwrites · 1 month ago

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Too Long

John Walker x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

content: smut, just pure smut. mutual masturbation. phone sex. needy john. no specific genitals described for reader but you are wearing boxers in this. hint of praise kink. this was written in one sitting this is your warning.

MDNI yall already know the drill

John’s got better self control than this. He knows he does.

But he’s slipping, everyone can tell. It’s been three weeks since he last saw you, since Val sent him on an assignment that was only supposed to take a few days.

To say he’s frustrated with how it’s going would be an understatement. And that frustration is manifesting in some very inconvenient ways.

But he’s not going to call you. He swears he’s not.

He’s not going to cave when he should be focusing on how to catch these fuckers so he can get home to you. He’s not going to call you.

The ringing of your phone is what wakes you up, John’s ID flashing on the screen. When you answer, John’s voice is low and strained.

“Talk to me. Please.”

Not a request, but a tired demand. The words themselves could be interpreted any sort of way, but the sheer underlying need in his voice tells you exactly what this is about.

He’s already got his pants shoved halfway down his thighs by the time your voice washes over him, a wave of relief he didn’t even know was possible coursing through his veins when he hears you.

“You were only supposed to be gone a few days.” Your voice rings through the phone, sparking a fresh surge of warmth in his gut.

He’s got the device pressed between his ear and his shoulder. You can hear him spit into his hand through the phone. There’s no subtlety, no disguising what he’s doing.

“I know, I know- Jesus-“ He grunts, wrapping his hand around his cock and fisting roughly. You’d be gentler, he knows you would, but he needs this over with fast, “Val didn’t say shit about the fact that I was going to be working with morons. I could’ve done this on my own.”

“If Val needed a group, why didn’t she just send the team with you?”

“I don’t fucking know.” He groans, thumbing at his tip and making a muffled wheezing sound, “I don’t understand what goes on in her goddamn brain sometimes- you’d think even if she doesn’t trust us she’d want- hngggg- want efficiency.”

“And the team she sent you with?”

“Don’t even call them that.” He shakes his head, adjusting the phone when it starts to slip, “They’re not a team, they’re a group of dumbasses who can’t work together for- hnnnnnnghh- for shit, even when their lives are on the line. Even a bunch of- fuck, E-1s would be better than these guys. If you told me they picked a bunch of goddamn civilians off the street and gave them guns, I’d- nghhhhh- I’d believe it.”

“Any of ‘em died yet?”

It’s not an erotic question. Not in the slightest. But John can hear the way your breathing stutters, the way your voice has gotten lower. It’s enough to tell him that he’s not the only one using this call to get off.

The thought is enough to short circuit his brain, his cock practically jumping in his grasp.

“John?”

The way you say his name has him biting back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“John?” You try again, the lack of response causing your concern to spike.

“Tell to me about your day.” He rasps suddenly, head falling back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he touches himself, using his free hand to pinch his inner thigh the way you always do.

You start detailing it to him, but not a damn word is computing in his brain. All he can think about is the coil in his gut, the aching of his cock, the way your voice sounds.

His hands are much too different from yours, he’s realizing with dismay. He hasn’t had to get himself off since he started seeing you, he’d gotten too spoiled. Your touch is always better.

Even his imagination can’t fully replicate it, but he can picture you in his minds eye, and that’s as good as he’s going to get.

“-was pretty boring.” Is all he catches from you.

“Mhmm.” He says, absentmindedly digging his nails into his thigh, “Keep talking.”

Trying to replicate what you make him feel is impossible, he’s realizing with dismay. So instead he focuses on what he thinks you’re doing right now.

He can see it all so clearly. You’re laying in bed, sheets kicked off, probably with a hand down your boxers, playing with yourself while you entertain his greedy, desperate requests for more, more, more.

The coil is tightening the more you talk. The fire burns hotter. He can’t form words anymore, just borderline animalistic grunts as he handles himself.

You’re getting more vocal now too, he doesn’t know when, but you’ve replaced your breathy recanting of the last three weeks with needy sounds and hushed murmurs of praise.

The way you say, “You sound so good, John.” has him rutting into his fist desperately.

He’s singleminded in the way he chases his high. Nothing else matters in that moment aside from the way you sound and the way he needs to feel.

Your face flashes across his brain when he finally cums. The sound of your high filling his ears when it finally happens, his head tossed back with a bitten back, “Fuck!”

Three weeks of build up and intense frustration is finally released in hot, sticky spurts all over his pants and abdomen. And he can’t even bring himself to care.

“Thank you.” He murmurs after a while, “God, I needed that.”

“Never would’ve guessed.”

Your tease goes ignored in favor of how he’s still reeling. The sound of clamoring outside gets his attention.

“I gotta go.” He admits reluctantly, “Think one of ‘em’s about to get someone killed.”

“You should probably go stop that.”

There’s an underlying disappointment in your voice. It’s not aimed at him but it may as well be. He hates disappointing you.

“Night…” He murmurs, already cleaning himself up. Then adds a quiet, “Love you.”

“Love you too. Don’t get yourself killed.”

Beneath the jest, there’s a layer of seriousness. You need him to come back to you. And for the first time since Olivia, he has a reason to.

“I never do.”

“First time for everything.”

“Not for me.” He’s coming back to himself now, the self assured cockiness returning.

“John.”

For such a stubborn man, it takes surprisingly little to get him to cave. In this case, just one word. His name from your lips.

He gives in, “I’ll be careful as I can.”

He doesn’t want to hang up. But he knows you won’t.

“I gotta go handle this. ‘S gonna be a lot of paperwork if one of these guys shoots himself.”

The call ends after that, and he gets up with a groan, buckling his pants back up.

He decides that he is going to kill one of these morons if he has to spend another week with them, and he is going to inform Valentina of this in great detail.

Just another few days until he went home.

A few days too long.

#cher writes #cher is supposed to be writing for shades of love #john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker smut #john walker #john walker x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader fanfic #x reader smut #gn reader friendly #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts

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girlsworldillusion · 1 year ago

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CLAIM - by Aemond Targaryen

+18 (seriously, no minors)

author's note: my first time writing for him, even though I've been in the fandom for a while now. (I hope this isn't the only one).

There you go, Aemond thinks with some bitterness.

Bright, innocent, pure. Tempting in annoying ways. Certainly a cute little thing to look at, though.

Unfortunately, he's not the only one who noticed this.

A warm, tingly ball curls in his stomach the more he watches you and your pathetic excuse for a partner during the waltz. Every delicate twirl you make around the grand ballroom sends shivers down his spine. The flushed dust high on your cheeks leaves his throat dry. The gentle smile you offer the Lord who smugly leads you through the dance makes his fist clench so tightly around the wine glass that Aemond is actually surprised he hasn't shattered the thing into a thousand pieces yet.

Aemond is not jealous, however. Aemond doesn't get jealous - being jealous is wanting something someone else has, and he has everything he needs, a lot of enviable things, to be honest. (That's what he tells himself, sipping some wine and sending icy daggers toward the man who insists on holding your waist tighter and tighter).

He's not jealous. He just doesn't like it when others covet what's his - or what should be his.

You, another Lady with a prestigious name. Theoretically there were many like you, it's true. But to Aemond, you always stood out. Unique, special. It is a great inconvenience that others also think this way.

Aemond was trying to be a gentleman here. He was purposely going slow so as not to scare you; innocent walks in the garden, subtle conversations about a book you both recently read, an unassuming invitation for afternoon tea (although he doesn't even like tea).

He was already exhausting the limits of his own patience and he still didn't get any real sign that you reciprocated his interest in you. You are kind and lovely, of course. But that's how you are with everyone around you. This, in itself, is no guarantee of absolutely anything for him.

Aemond was trying to be patient. Gods, he really was. But with each passing day he found himself more and more tormented by thoughts and fantasies about you. His mind is playing tricks on him, pushing the limits of his self-control to the point where he feels like he might snap like a stretched rubber band.

And it is on these nights, when everyone in the Red Keep is already asleep and he is absolutely certain that he is finally alone with his own demons - that he gives in.

He closes the only eye he has left to keep from seeing the shamefully needy descent of his hand beneath the waistband of his sleep pants, only for it to become a fleeting, innocuous thought a few seconds later, because there it is again; that all-encompassing, overwhelming feeling that makes him see stars every time.

He palms his straining erection wet with precum, imagining it's your tiny hand there - or your pretty mouth, your tight pussy. The mere thought of it sends a bolt of pleasure down his spine and makes him part his lips in a husky sigh.

He thinks of you, over and over again; in hurried and repetitive steps, like someone lost in a maze.

Your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyelashes fluttering with pleasure, your sweet voice begging for him...

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond-

Aemond writhes on the sheets, panting, shaking with it, his toes curled against the bed; his hips twitching with each wave of pleasure along his shaft trapped between his fingers. In the waves of euphoria, he throws his other arm over his eye, hides his sapphire and his personal decay like a secret, panting, getting close, so close, fuck, fuck...

It's sweet torture, after all. Spills out onto his own stomach and sheets instead of where he really wants to be.

But he can handle it. All to be a gentleman for you. All to endure the long, agonizing (and embarrassing) wait while you happily accept his invitations to teas and walks in the gardens and entertain him with your witty anecdotes about the latest book you read -

Although you never give him a concrete answer about your feelings for him.

He's trying to hold on.

But you need to pressure him, don't you?

He grits his teeth and narrows his gaze when the man waltzing with you leans down to say something close to your ear.

This isn't new to him, of course.

Aemond is used to having to fight to get what he wants. Nothing really comes easy for him. But there is something about the arduous trajectory of his personal achievements that no one is able to deny.

Once claimed, it's his forever.

That's it, enough of trying to be a gentleman - Aemond hums as he uses the rim of his wine glass to hide the wicked smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, baby."

He is against you.

Pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass so you can feel how hard his cock is in his pants.

He's laughing in your ear.

Mocking.

"You like that, don't you, girl?" he asks, in a dark whisper after cornering you in one of the castle's corridors, blocking your walk to your chambers. He deposits words laced with malice and honey into his husky voice, whispered against the shell of your ear.

You shudder against him.

He's rubbing himself against you. His cock rubbing explicitly against the curve of your ass, while his fingers squeeze your throat, pulling the back of your head to his shoulder.

"You're mine," he says, his voice full of possessiveness. Like he was on the verge of losing it. He already lost.

You cry out softly, feeling him squeeze your throat again. Harder this time.

"Nobody touches you from now on. Got it?"

He's nuzzling into your hair. Lost in the tickle of your strands on his face, in your sweet smell in his nose.

You shake your head somehow even with his firm grip on your throat and he laughs against your hair.

A low, harsh laugh, a wicked sound that rumbles straight from his throat as he leans down to leave a single kiss on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours to give a light tug.

"Good girl."

You open your mouth to say something, anything - an apology, a well-rehearsed argument, words too soft and genuine to compete with the sound of Aemond's hips slamming violently between your thighs - but all all you can do is a low, breathless meow.

"You smell like him," Aemond huffs coldly, though it's more of a breathy grunt.

Maybe there is a certain amount of exaggeration in his words, you don't smell like him. Not really. But the simple memory of that man's hands on your waist and his face close to yours to whisper anything was awakening a dangerous euphoria in Aemond's veins.

He tries hard to at least pretend to be easy, to at least pretend to have some control over the situation. Struggling silently to remain composed, as if he wasn't finally fucking the woman he's wanted for a long time at a brutal pace, as if your scent and your tears weren't permanently staining his sheets right now, as if he wasn't squeaking his teeth to keep from spilling too soon at the mere thought of having permanent physical proof that you were here - right in the bed where he sleeps every night. Aemond feigns an indifference and coldness that are not real.

But he's trying.

He is under the intense watch of your drunken, half-closed gaze, and tries hard not to embarrass himself any more than he already has. He struggles to breathe through his nose, trying not to blink too often; carefree, not a hair out of place. And, in the midst of his personal battle for dignity, he finds some amusement in how you seem to be going insane beneath him; as if you seams were being torn apart with each breath hissed through your teeth.

"I-it was just a dance..."

“He was desperate,” Aemond cuts you off, squeezing you so that your words turn into nothing more than a pathetic groan at the end of the sentence. His fingers dig into your throat, anchoring him as his hips work furiously against yours. His hair is falling to your shoulders and breasts, raising goose bumps on your skin with each thrust of his body against yours. “And that smell is really offending me, girl.”

“I-I, I’m so sorry-” you stutter, hands gripping his wrist as he resists the urge to sink his teeth into the crook of your neck, exactly where everyone can see it tomorrow, “I told him I already had someone and -"

He barely hears your confession before he interrupts. Thick words spilling from his lips as the grip on your body doubles in intensity.

"He thought with that sticky smile that he could just have you? That he would be the one to take your purity? This is for me, he should know. You belong to me. Only for me - only for me." He shakes and sputters to the wild pleasure coursing through his veins, some of his self control slipping as he bows his head and bumps his forehead against your sweaty shoulder, panting heavily into your skin at the feeling of your tight walls gripping his cock like a lathe.

"Yeah - only for you", he distantly hears you moan above the roar in his ears, feels your little fingers tangle between the silver strands of his hair until you manage to give a sharp tug, right at the base of the back of his neck. He groans into your skin at the sensation.

The liquid heat building inside him is almost overflowing, so close that he can't stop his trembling hips from meeting yours with shallower thrusts. He's almost rubbing himself against you, over and over, frantically. “Aemond, p-please,” you murmur, cherry-colored tongue wetting your plump bottom lip. "I can't anymore, I can't - ngh, please-"

Aemond swallows the rest of your words with a punishing kiss, answering your broken plea by quickly grinding his hips, encouraging your orgasm to wash over you. He doesn't stop, not even when you go rigid, unable to kiss him back or do anything other than moan and cry into his mouth.

Aemond traces your lips with his tongue, nibbling them until they're soft, his own breathing becoming as frantic as the cock that's dragging without pause against your wet walls. When his orgasm washes over him, Aemond is already panting and moaning as if in pain as he rests his forehead against yours; an intense gaze observing yours, focused on every detail of your delicate features. Your hooded gaze, the wet trail of tears on your red cheeks and your uneven breathing. The purest adoration for him shining in your eyes like stars in the dark sky.

And he smiles then.

Because you are his now.

Duly claimed.

With a gentle touch on his elbow, Aemond returns to reality.

The apples of his cheeks are dyed a subtle (but noticeable) shade of red as his violet gaze scans the space in front of him, silently surprised to have been caught in the middle of his unholy reverie.

It's you.

A beautiful silk dress on soft skin. Hair tied in a slightly loose braid. So small compared to him. So beautiful. So...his.

"Prince Aemond, are you okay?"

He looks at you for a moment, debating between feigning disagreement to spare himself the humiliation of being caught or pushing you against the nearest wall.

In the end, he chooses to remain still, head raised proudly and face indifferent, although his violet gaze remains stubbornly tilted downwards, thirsty to maintain eye contact with you.

"Yes, I just got distracted," he says, voice deeper than he'd like it to sound.

You smile, sweet and soft and his heart quickens.

"That's great. Well, it's late and my feet are hurting after all the dancing." You close your eyes in an amused, relaxed expression, there's even a dimple forming in your cheek as the wide smile stretches your lips - and although the sight is enough to fill his chest with a bubbling sensation of pure warmth, a muscle Aemond's jaw jumps at the mere mention of your recent activities. "Have a good night, my Prince." You conclude when he offers no response to your comment, bowing with a respectful farewell before walking away.

He watches you leave the great hall with delicate steps, gentle smiles and nods directed at the people you meet on the way. The image of grace and innocence, without a doubt. At least until you turn your head towards him before walking out the hall doors.

The way your upper teeth sink into the plump flesh of your lower lip, your heavy eyelashes fluttering when you squint briefly, the flushed cheeks and swollen pupils aimed specifically at him...

It happens as quickly as it started. With a fluid movement you turn around again and walk through the hall doors, as if nothing had happened.

Aemond sighs; tired, irritated, burning with lust.

You keep playing with him.

The wine glass shakes and clinks loudly as he places it roughly on the table, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even care if anyone notices as he abruptly follows your steps, leaving the ballroom behind, with a hard gaze and dark features.

He would catch up to you.

And this time he'll make sure it's not just in a daydream-

He will claims you. Truly, indisputably.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd

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deareststars · 4 months ago

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i need to be youthfully felt 'cause, god, i never felt young (house, md)

title taken from jackie and wilson by hozier. continued under the cut.

(this is a short reader-insert written because i'm overstimulated and need to write about something OTHER than pmh nursing. tempted to make this into a full-blown >5k wilson x reader...)

“You’re stupider than I gave you credit for.”

Even with House’s usual snark, you can’t keep a smile from coming across your face.

“You say that to everyone. When is it going to hold any substance?”

He shakes his head and kicks back in his chair, using his cane to balance himself. “No, what I meant was: for someone whose whole job surrounds psychology—also known as the study of the human mind—you really don’t seem to understand people.”

This only serves to make your grin widen. “What, my usual argument that humanity’s natural state of being is empathy, and that we can change for the people we care about, doesn’t hold any substance either? Maybe we’re both shallower than you gave us credit for.”

“If humanity’s natural state of being were empathy, Wilson wouldn’t be three wives deep with a fourth one on the way." The chair legs fall forward with a thump, and he points an accusatory finger at you. "And if you cared about yourself, you would take one second to realize that you’re setting yourself up for a T4-sized tumor in the shape of a shoe to kick you right in the ass.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on, House.”

“No, you come on.” He gets up. For a moment, you think he might actually ask you to walk with him. Instead, he jabs at your foot with his cane. Better than him hitting your shin with it, you suppose. “You and I have known Wilson for almost the same amount of time. Yet, you think dating him is a good idea?”

“What can I say?” You don’t fight to keep your gaze from softening. The retch that House lets out is gratification enough. “There’s just something about him.”

He gasps and holds his hands together like a lovesick schoolgirl. “Is it the hair? The eyes? Or the fact that he is a serial cheater and you are an idiot for even humoring the idea that he’ll stay with you for longer than it takes him to find another attractive bimbo wearing a skirt?”

“People change.”

“No, behaviors change. People never do.”

You spread your hands wide. “Is my happiness really not good enough of an argument for you?”

He groans, the loudest one you’ve heard him let out to date. “Your happiness is better served sitting here on the sidelines with me, watching Wilson fail to keep it in his pants! He hit on a married woman at a casino, for God’s sake!”

That’s something you hadn’t heard yet, but you don’t want to give House the satisfaction of your surprise. And even without House's uncensored thoughts spilling out, it's true that on your own, you’ve had these doubts. Ever since the budding feelings of a crush developed in your heart, your mind has been trying to win out.

There’s a reason why every nurse in the building knows Wilson’s name, Cameron had once told you. Even if they don’t work in oncology, that kind of reputation spreads.

Why would you set yourself up for such a perfect downfall? Maybe you’re tired of playing it safe, or maybe you want to hurt. Maybe, despite everything you’ve told House, you want proof that it’s worth it to ache on someone else’s behalf—and not just proof that you’ve read about in an article, but proof that you can hold in your hands and see with your eyes, even if it's your own blood spilling out from self-inflicted misery.

“Plus, how inconvenient is it that you’re dating each other now? For me, of course,” he adds before you can get a word in edgewise. "Sharing your time, making sure you don't sneak off on me...and now, I have to give you the shovel talk.”

“Oh, I’ve actually been waiting to hear this.”

He clears his throat. “Chase introduced me to this thought experiment of the ‘immortal snail.’ It’s this little snail that follows you around. You can’t kill it or escape from it, but the moment it touches you, you die. If you hurt Wilson or break his fragile little heart, that snail will be me. I’ll hunt you down with my cane, waiting for the moment to shatter your knees in one fell swoop. You can hide from me on any distant plane of the planet, but I will find you.”

You’re…actually in awe of his creativity. “Okay, noted.”

He waves you off. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with an equally creative one to tell Wilson on your behalf. I can’t have you thinking I’m playing favorites.”

"Perfect." You turn and dig your hands into the pockets of your coat. "Well, I'll give James your regards, then."

"Oh, God, you're already on a first-name basis!"

You leave him to his whining, letting the door swing shut behind you. As you walk, you hum to yourself, finding your steps growing lighter at the thought of a familiar office and an even more familiar smile.

#reader insert #x reader #gregory house #house md #james wilson #one shot

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bayfuzzball7050 · 9 months ago

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My favourite jjba character(s) from each part bc I know it will be more appreciated here than in a Reddit thread

I’ll use this header from now on to yap

Phantom Blood: Speedwagon. Regardless if it’s a whole meme in the community, o genuinely think it’s very brave of him to follow along in an adventure where everyone has powers but he doesn’t. He just raw dog’s every supernatural event and tries his best to be useful. It’s a noble thing.

Battle Tendency: Definitely Caesar Zeppeli. A much more complex and interesting character than his predecessor (William Zeppeli, I mean). I loved his design, personality and charisma regardless if I couldn’t resonate at all with his backstory. I also really enjoyed his rivalry/friendship with Joseph. I’ve always loved the smart/snarky guy x himbo dynamic!

Stardust Crusaders: I love kakyoin with all my heart and soul and I will never shut up about it. I resonated deeply with him since I know personally what it is like to be alone. I like how Araki portrayed his loneliness in a ‘im different than everyone I know’ way where he couldn’t relate to people the way others that. That childhood monologue— god! It hit so, so close to home. I couldn’t help but cry when the scene came up. That is when I realized how much the crusaders mattered to him. A bunch of people ‘like him’ and it’s such a sacred feeling when you’ve been feeling ‘off’ all your life. I also like that he’s always giving little fun facts he’s a bit like yapdollar

Diamond Is Unbreakable: Okuyasu. No question needed. Unlike his brother, Okuyasu is a very kind soul that has never killed anyone (at least on screen) even when he has endured so much abuse from his brother and father alike, something that would ‘justify it’ if he did became an evil character. He stopped looking for a way to kill his father because he can see the good in people and ‘accept them for who they are’. I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him. He had taken what his brother had told him about being better off dead so personally to the point where his first question after being healed by Josuke was (paraphrasing bc I don’t remember well) was something like “why did you save me when it would’ve been easier to let me die?”. Josuke came just in time to make him realize how much he actually mattered so he could evolve into the little goofball we all know and love.

Golden Wind: Giorno. I think most people who call him a ‘boring’ or ‘plain’ character often seem to forget that, of course, Giorno will not be a charismatic, sociable, talkative, — joseph — kind of guy. He was severely emotionally and physically neglected in his childhood to the point where showing emotions became useless since he knew he’d be left shaking in his craddle. From this emotional neglect, he started looking up at a gangster as some sort of parental figure. Someone who showed him basic human decency. Later, we get to see his ingenuity in battle. But I think one of the reasons he was so clever in life or death situations was because he has been in a ‘fight or flight’ mode since a very young age. He isn’t even ‘bottling up’ his emotions, he had repressed them deeply inside his brain to survive.

Stone Ocean: The main three. But mainly Foo Fighters bc they’re so silly >_< and I can’t begin to imagine how marvellous it has to be to, one day, become a sentient being

Steel Ball Run: I can’t quite decide between Gyro and Johnny tbh. Johnny is a character who had been always pampered with his ‘rich life’ and was then shocked with the fact that once you’re not useful, or worse, become inconvenient for people, they stop caring about you. I often think about how bad his father was with him, not only rubbing Nicholas’ death all over his face rather often, the whole “God, you took the wrong son” page or just how he never went by to visit him when he had just gotten crippled. It was just plain cruel. Also when they followed Hot Pants to a church and Johnny had to relive some of his most traumatic life experiences again and still try to win. It was one of the best arcs in sbr imo.

Gyro, on another note, wasn’t a son of a wealthy family but had to carry the weight of generations and generations of knowledge on top of the family profession on his shoulders, having to execute a child. He’s also a silly goofball with his jokes that make little to no sense and him trying to explain the spin to johnny in life or death situations always has me cackling up ngl.

Jojolion: I haven’t started to read JOJOLION, but from what I’ve seen, Gappy seems to be a silly goofball who lacks direction and I love that in a man. Also that he’s a 2 x 1 combo, literally.

Jojolands: I haven’t read jojolands either, but good lord they sold me Dragona and Paco when I heard ‘transgender’ and ‘laburantes’. Plus everyone from the Jodio team also seems to be lacking direction and being a pinch silly

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scribblestatic · 2 months ago

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*watches a bunch of horse videos*

...sigh

So, Izuku's a centaur.

Masterpost Next

(Warning for Body Horror & Child Abuse, because I'm feeling those sorts of vibes, apparently)

His quirk didn't come in until he was five, which was kinda late, but really, it happened that way because he was building up more calcium, bone, and muscle strength to be able to take on the transformation.

It's a bit traumatic, admittedly. One day, he's up and about on two legs. Then he gets a fever and stops being able to walk. Then he's delirious for several days as his body changes so completely and utterly. And the next thing he knows, once he's aware again, is that he has more organs, more body parts, and more legs.

And yet...it feels natural to him. He feels right all of a sudden, like he was deformed before.

To everyone who saw the transformation process, however, it's the opposite. He has two hearts: one in his human chest and one in his horse chest, along with a frog (heart-like organ) in each leg. Most of his human chest is now taken up by very, very large lungs, supported by a strong diaphragm near where his pelvis used to be.

Most of his major organs sit in his new horse parts. His teeth and jaws became much stronger, and his ears became equine, sticking from the sides of his head like elf ears. He has square pupils instead of circular or rectangular ones, giving him a wide view. If he's facing forward and looks off to the side, he can see along his shoulder and down his flank a bit, though it's not exceptionally focused. His best field of vision is, of course, right in front of him, but his new eyes allow him to see more above, below, and beside himself.

Right where his pelvis used to be is now his "neck". The flexible and strong muscles around his horse chest and back allows him to be very flexible, much like a horse's neck would be. As long as he keeps stretching and in good health, he'll keep that flexibility, in theory.

His hooves are, surprisingly, cloven, with two little dewclaws on each foot. Considering he otherwise looks like a horse, it's even more off-putting.

His fur is black with a slightly green gleam in the sunlight. He has little speckles of pure black or pure white along his back, mimicking his freckles. His little toddler tail is short and full of curls, and fur trails up from his human waist in a thin, downy triangle to the middle of his chest.

With his current body, he can't neatly fit back into society. The stairs up to their apartment aren't meant to accommodate a little horse body. He takes up more space on buses or trains. Since pants aren't really feasible, he's in long skirts that he sometimes trips up on because the front is too long compared to the back.

And Inko...despite her best efforts, she can't help but feel like this child isn't her son.

She saw the blood. Witnessed new limbs grow, and form, and kick into reality. He was, for a while, a mess of sinew and organs that were quickly reshaping into a little boy. And any time she looked at Izuku, that's what she saw.

She felt terrible. Closing her son inside their small apartment each day as more local news crews kept trying to come and see the child with the late-blooming quirk, the kid whose quirk arrived late and irrevocably changed his body, the one who seemed to have become more beast than man. Something straight out of an old-timey fantasy book.

Going to school was out of the question, because those journalists would just harass them the entire way there, perhaps sneak pictures throughout the day, just to marvel at him. He couldn't fit into a car like normal, had trouble using bathrooms normally because his body had become longer and heavier (sure, he managed by sitting just fine, but his long spine meant he couldn't close the toilet door, and don't get her started on hooves on tile).

Inconvenience after inconvenience, memory after memory. She'd wake in the night, sweating from watching the sheets around her son become drenched in blood. She still hears him crying even while he was unconscious. And eventually she just...

Can't.

One night, she rents a car. She tries to do everything as covertly as possible, holding Izuku's hand as he sleepily wobbles his way down the apartment stairs, still holding onto his little blankie. She shuffles him into the back seats of the car, buckling his human part in as much as she can manage. Then she drives away in the dead of night.

She's still driving when the sun comes up and Izuku's no longer sleepy. He's looking out the windows and talking about whatever he happens to see, unless he's listening to the music she has playing on a lower volume than she used to in the background (his hearing is more sensitive now, louder noises sometimes hurt).

He asks her what's wrong several times, not able to see her face but sensing her tension, smelling her tears.

She never answers that question, even as the buildings become fewer and further in-between, as urban life becomes suburban becomes rural. Soon, most of what is outside is simply land.

One day passes. She sleeps in the car with him, even if they have to pull over to the side of the road. They never stop at an inn, only occasionally eating from the food she had packed in with them for the drive.

Two days. Then they pull up to a car ferry. He's told to stay inside, so he does. He complains that his legs are cramping, but when she shushes him, he quiets obediently. He says nothing as she covers the back of her car, keeping him from looking out and others from looking in. He waits patiently for hours, becoming distressed when he can't leave to use the restroom, and he cries as he apologizes while she cleans the car up as much as she manages. He's also hungry...his body needs more food than it used to, and he has a small child's mouth.

He's bored and tired and hungry and his legs hurt and his mood is absolutely terrible, so he cries and screams and throws a tantrum, kicking the seats and cracking the windows with his hooves. She doesn't yell at him, but her expression screws up real nasty and he sobs at her, asking why this is happening. She doesn't answer, telling him to stay quiet for a bit longer.

Finally, finally, the car leaves the ferry and the cover keeping him hidden is removed so she can see out of the back window. Nothing looks even slightly familiar to him anymore. The fields look even more luscious and full wherever they are.

She pulls up to the fence of a fairly remote-looking place. The sun is high in the sky now. She lets him out, and he squeals and runs and kicks his legs, letting out all the energy that had been brewing in him for hours upon hours. While he does, Inko quietly removes the hay and plastic coverings and such in the back seats.

When Izuku comes back over after watching from a distance, ready to apologize, she stops him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"...Honey, Mommy's going to go get something, alright? Would you mind waiting here? Because...getting back in the car would be uncomfortable, right?"

Izuku feels uncomfortable, but he isn't sure about what.

"You know...all of this... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, honey. I know you wanted a quirk, and you got one. You got a quirk. And it's... Mommy didn't to good by you. That's why we're on this trip. And that's why I need you to wait here."

He feels tense, like a prey animal does. But he just cries a little, teary-eyed, and says, "Okay."

"Mommy's sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. For...for, uhm--"

"No. It's alright. It's not your fault." She hugs him. "Mommy's sorry... She's sorry she gave you this quirk. But it'll be alright. Just wait here."

"...Okay."

So, Izuku watches as she gets in the car. She sits inside for a minute as the car runs, seeming to cry. And then, it starts driving off.

Izuku watches as it goes off in the distance.

Further.

Further...

Further still...

Eventually, he loses sight of it, and he's on his own near the gate. So, he waits. Because she's going to come back, like she said she would.

And he waits.

Waits...

...Waits...

...waits...

And as night begins to fall and his vision worsens with the increasing loss of light, Izuku feels, deep in his heart, that she's not coming back.

#centaur izuku au #bnha #bnha au #mha #static writes #dp writes #au post 1 #man i dunno my mood has been weird

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spikesbunny · 1 month ago

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☆ SUNDRESS SUMMER

+ warnings: wlw smut! public sɇx, fingering, cunnɨlɨngus

+ ft: jean gunnhildr x fem reader

+ wc: 1.2k

minors DNI!

mondstadt was always so pretty during the summer. all the pretty flowers from spring still in bloom, all the lively events. the streets were littered with stalls, citizens selling homemade and homegrown goods to all.

but even prettier in the summer was jean. it was a shame she was always so busy.

with summer, tourism increased, and therefore her job grew a little more taxing. making sure everyone was safe, ensuring laws were followed. it wasn't that she didn't mind keeping the city safe for you as a knight of favonius.

it was because she missed out on time with you.

you always tried to make it up, bringing her out to flower fields for picnics and dates, strolling around town the same time she had patrol. it made her feel a tiny bit better, knowing you still loved her the same.

this date was no different.

hand in hand, you and jean made your way (yet again) to her favorite flower field, the grass covered with yellows, pinks, blues and greens. it was like a painting, you were like a painting in her eyes.

"i can't thank you enough. you never seem to mind that i'm so busy, darling." jean smiles softly, brushing a stray strand out of your hair.

"of course! i'd hate to see you so overwhelmed with work with no break." you smile, bringing her hand and brushing your lips against it.

it was true, jean was always swamped up with work, stuck in her office for hours on end, her only company lisa and occasionally kaeya's nonsense.

it was heartwarming, knowing her dear girlfriend always knew what she needed. sending in baked good, flower bouquets, and hand written cards whenever she had a busy day, or whenever you found time to stop by.

it made every moment she worked for the city - and you - worth it.

you take jean's hand, settling down in the flower field with her. you brought food, to set up a picnic later. but now? you just wanted to sit in the grass and enjoy her company.

you rest your head on your shoulder, letting your girlfriend ramble on about her day and all the tedious task she had to attend to. it was soothing, jean's voice. like honey and the softest breeze of wind. you watch as she uses her elementally abilities to blow a stream of petals towards you, giggling as a pink one settles in your hair.

"let me get that, hm?" she smiles down at you, plucking the petunia out of your locks. "there."

you sigh softly, laying your head down in jean's lap. you relished times like these, enjoying the time spent with your always occupied girlfriend.

you didn't care if it was sleeping, eating, talking, strolling, or even just basking in the sun with one another. it was the fact you spent it with jean.

"doll, i can't thank you enough, really. i've been so stressed!" she exclaims, brushing through your hair. her eyes trail down your body, stopping at the pretty floral sundress. her fingers, calloused from years of sword wielding, brush against your calves and the trim of the dress.

"this is cute... where'd ya get it?" she ask, studying the pretty piece of fabric.

"from some market down town!! they had so many, i saw some pretty matching floral pants. maybe we can see if they still have some, that way we can get a matching dress and pant set on our way back." you smile up at her, admiring how her features are accentuated by the sun.

"mmm... sounds fun." she chuckles, enjoying your innocence. her touch lingers more. she was clearly distracted, the dress was perfect on you. and honestly? she needed to burn off some stress.

"jean, everythin good?" you ask, meeting her eyes, which were slightly glazed over with something... distraction? desire?

"mhm... you just look real pretty in this dress." she coos, her hand gently rubbing at your calves. "do you mind?"

you shake you head. you knew jean never really got the chance to be intimate with you, always on duty at the most inconvenient times. plus the flower field was pretty empty, so no one should interrupt you.

she nods, bringing you and the basket closer to the shaded area of a tree near the edge of the field, settling your back against it. eagerly, her hands sneak up under the skirt of your dress, kneading her want into your skin.

"i missed this, missed you." she whispers, lips grazing your skin, gently attending to your thighs, covering them in kisses, smearing remainders of your lip gloss that transferred to her lips from an earlier kiss.

you smile down at her, brushing a hand through her golden strands as she hikes your skirt up, kissing your lips through your fabric. slowly, jean worked you up, a mixture of her rough yet careful hands and her hungry lips. your arousal grows, a smirk forming on your girlfriends lips, alongside a hushed 'so pretty' as she gently moves your panties to the side - a pretty pink pair with a bow, one she bought for you.

her lips press against your folds, kissing you with passion, earning a soft exhale as you guide her closer. she gently worships between your thighs, kissing you more than eating you out. like you were a delicate flower, she treated you with such care while bringing you to an orgasm.

her lips move to wrap around your clit, sucking softly on your sensitive nerves as she dips on finger into your cunt, curling exactly how she knew you wanted it.

despite the lack of sex you two had, jean knew your body like the back of her hand. it may not have occurred as often as other couples, but whenever it did, her satisfaction came after yours - or more so, her satisfaction came from making you cum.

her lips and finger moves in tandem, as she adds a second, feeling you clench around her. she knew your orgasm was rapidly approaching, knew your body like it was a map in her office. she applies a bit more pressure - not too much to hurt - wanting you to fall apart under her, craving your release more than even you.

and as she feels the wave of your climax crash down, jean laps it all up, swallowing every last drop she worked from you. as you come down from your high, she pulls away, placing your panties back in place before pressing a soft kiss to your thigh.

"j-jean." you pant, taking in the euphoric expression on your girlfriend's face.

"shh... tell me about it later. you look starving, darling. i'm curious to see what you packed us for this picnic." she smiles, fixing your hair and dress. "come, let's eat and get you another dress. i'm free all day, why don't we go shopping after this?"

you would never get tired of her.

#vinnie.mp4 #gi smut #gi x you #gi x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #jean smut #jean gunnhildr smut #jean x reader #jean x you #genshin wlw #wlw smut #wlw fanfic

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ichasewaterfalls · 2 years ago

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CAR OMORASHI.

By reading this, you verify that you are 18+ years old, and understand the content you’re about to read is considered NSFW and omorashi-linked, and therefore unsuitable to minors.

I tried to keep the heightening urge to pee in the back of my mind as we sped down the highway towards the mountains. We’d only been driving for an hour or so, and I didn’t want to inconvenience Jake just yet. I was sure that I had a good few more miles left in me before it escalated to emergency status. I’d turned down the initial toilet break before we left, confident in my holding ability and wanting to keep to our strict schedule in order to get to Jake’s parents house before Christmas Eve.

Dismissing the thought from my mind, I instead scrolled the plan I’d written for our trip. Itineraries for each day, special activities for us all, and even a family photoshoot for the entire group. I’d taken joy in planning every family reunion since Jake and I got married 4 years ago. Admittedly, I’d also taken control the 2 years we were engaged, and the 3 years of dating. So with 9 years of planning under my belt, I was confident I knew how to create the perfect festive bash.

That wasn’t the only thing under my belt. My bladder reminded me of its existence as Jake merged rapidly into the left-most lane, and I shivered randomly as a wave of urgency fell down my spine.

‘What the hell? You’re supposed to be in the right lan-‘

Before I told him off for his directional mishap, I looked up quickly to see the lane was blocked off, a massive spill of hay all over the road. Should’ve thought of this as a possibility, since we were just passing the thresholds between country farms and mountainous ranges. My bladder seemed to be passing a threshold too, between uncomfortable and urgent.

‘We’ll have to go the back way. It’ll be about 45 extra minutes added to the journey.’

I sighed with frustration, 45 minutes? Not only did it throw us off schedule, it meant longer for me to hold my increasingly aching bladder.

‘I’ll text your mom.’ I scoffed, quickly shooting the group chat a text to let them know we’d be a bit late. As I put my phone down again, I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my lap, preparing myself to have to place a hand or two between my legs to hold myself.

I must have been shaking without notice, but Jake obviously did. He always did.

‘You alright there? Need a bathroom break?’

‘N-no, I’m fine. I- Yes I need a bathroom break.’

‘I’m not sure where the closest facility is on this road. I don’t normally drive the backroads to mom’s. I’m sure we’ll figure it out babe.’

The drive continued, and so did my need for a bathroom. I now had one hand between my legs, and another hand scanning Google Maps, trying to find any relief stops near us. But of course, rural mountain roads aren’t the most reliable source of internet connection. I thought about asking Jake to stop so I could get out and go, but since everyone was diverted, like us, we had cars in front and behind us. And with narrow, slippery roads, there wasn’t enough space to stop and pull over, or safely get off the road. A sinking feeling set in. My sense of chivalry was no longer important to me, he was my husband after all.

‘Jake it’s getting worse, I need to find relief ASAP.’

‘I don’t know how to help babe, I’m trying.’

He was obviously noticing the severity of the situation, as he placed his foot on the gas, going up to the safest speed limit for these roads. I watched him stare at me anxiously as I shoved both hands inside my pants, trying to hold back the pee from escaping.

As the car climbed higher into the range, my need for a bathroom reached a breaking point, and the urgency in my voice became palpable. "Jake," I gasped, my face contorted with discomfort, "I really can't hold it much longer."

"I know, Clara," Jake signed, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization or a restroom. "Just a little longer, okay? Let's try some deep breathing together."

He reached over, placing one hand on my shoulder to guide me through deep, calming breaths. "Inhale deeply...hold it for a moment...now exhale slowly," he coached, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the seatbelt tightly. "It's not working, Jake," I whimpered, my voice trembling with desperation.

But as the minutes ticked by, my resolve wavered. I clutched the dashboard, my face flushed with embarrassment and defeat. "Jake," I whispered, tears forming in her eyes, "I can't...I'm so sorry."

Before Jake could respond, the inevitable happened. My efforts to hold it in proved futile, as the pee rushed out of me, soaking my jeans and the car seat beneath me.

For a moment, silence filled the car, save for my muffled sobs and Jake's stunned expression. The weight of the situation hung heavy between us.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I managed to choke out, tears streaming down her face.

Jake took a deep breath, reaching over to comfort me. "It's okay sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. "Accidents happen. We'll figure this out together."

#female omo #omorashi #bladder control #omutsu #omo kink #pee kink #piss kink #bladder desperation #piss desperation #pee holding challenge #omo story

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narislvr · 2 years ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Ahhh, Thank you so much for requesting and of course! ♡ Valeria would definitely be the type to tease reader saying stuff along the lines of "told you they were, demonios," but would offer her support and comfort regardless because she simply loves you that much. This may be a tad bit rushed but I hope you enjoy! <3

── p.s : I accidentally deleted the original post I was gonna use to respond to the ask thus why it's posted like this-

req by: @cerise-on-top

Your hair was damp against Valeria’s stomach as she gently combed through it with her calloused fingers. Her touch was slow and tender, leaving on your scalp a lulling sensation as you continued your rant about your day's events.

“It was ten minutes, Vale! Ten!”

You look up momentarily from where your head was resting on her lap only to find her already looking down at you with a mocking, yet loving, grin on her lips. “That’s why you don’t leave children unattended, Linda. You of all people should know that,” She taunts, poking the tip of your nose with her free hand in amusement as your eyes narrowed at her actions. Of course, she knew you weren’t at fault, but she couldnt help the lighthearted laughter that rumbled through her as you swatted her finger from your face.

"I didn't leave them unattended, I simply let them play in their centers while I finished the screening tests for the last three kids.. I didn't think that they'd be able to drop the whole paint bottle tray on the floor the one second I'm not looking up!" You groan, hands coming up to rub at your temples as you recalled the memory.

With holiday break only being a week away, first semester screening tests were being done to make sure that the kids were learning the things necessary before the end of the year, and so far nothing had gone wrong. Usually while you performed these mini tests, you had your TA keep an eye on the kids in the room whilst you sat with your small group in one of the corner tables, but she was out sick and you still needed to get this last group done so you were responsible for keeping track of everything at once.

You definitely had this under control.

The kids were usually relatively calm and would tend to stay in their play area's while you were busy unless they needed help with anything but that was normal. And yeah, they could be a bit loud, but it was never anything so bad that you would have to turn your attention away from your task.

You definitely this under control. you had forgotten that they had had a sweet treat for snack time only a few moments prior.

Everything was going well, perfect even, until you heard the loud sound of heavy plastic hitting the floor and the yelps and giggles from the children in the corner of the room.

"Of course the first thing I did was make sure everyone was okay, but Vale, the paint was everywhere! Juan had paint all over his pants and shoes and thought I was mad so he ran away and left paint all over the rest of the floor. I told the kids to just leave it while I tried to make sure Juan knew I wasn't mad, but they decided they'd try and help clean it up and really only got more paint on themselves," You sighed, carefully switching your position from resting on her lap to laying against her side, head resting against her chest as she gently wrapped her arm around your waist.

There was a light grimace on her face as she thought about your story. She already wasn't fond of kids, thinking of them as nothing more than literal demons, inconveniences, leaving chaos with everything they touched, so the thought of running behind children covered in paint only served as further deterance from ever wanting kids. "No entiendo cómo le haces, I would've been fired the moment I heard the thing fall down. Probably way before then" She mumbles, earning a small laugh from you as you look up at her and send her a playful disaproving look. She only shakes her head, a hint of a grin on her lips as she raises a brow and meets your gaze, "Que te ries, eh? We both know I would've gone off on all of them. Apenas si tengo la paciencia to deal with grown ass men, imagine me with a group of 18 chamacos. You're doing God's work, Linda."

She presses a kiss against your temple, her fingers gently tapping a lazy rhythm against your stomach as you close your eyes and smile to yourself. You knew Valeria probably had a stressful day herself, it being noticeable due to the heavy bags beneath her eyes and the way she seemed want nothing less but to close her eyes and slip into some much needed slumber, but she still made time to listen to you. Your days were nothing compared to hers, and even if she wasn't the most outwardly affectionate with words, she still never failed to let you know she cared. That you were loved, heard.

"Maybe I should bring you with me to work next time my partner doesn't come in. Would definitely make my day easier" You murmur against her chest, a cheeky tone in your tired voice as you burry yourself closer to her. You hear her scoff and you chuckle once more, not having to raise your head to know there was a look of horror on her face at your suggestion.

"Ya mejor vete a dórmir, you're talking nonsense, chula," She exhales, feign annoyance in her voice as she rests her head over yours, holding you close.

"Was just a thought. You should consider it sometime."

A moment of silence.

"Vale?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I know."

"You're not gonna say it back?"

"You know I love you. More than anything. Even if you do still smell like paint."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ translations:

── Linda: "Pretty"

── No entiendo cómo le haces: "I don't know how you do it"

── Que te ries: "what are you laughing at?"

── Apenas si tengo la paciencia: "I barely have the patience"

── Chamacos: "Children"

── Ya mejor vete a dormir: "Go to sleep instead"

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banepenis · 11 days ago

Text

bowling_for_truth

joined 07/27/2031, newbie observer (5 posts), posted 08/02/2031, 7:49pm

Hey all! Just got started my first job at this office last week, and found this forum after some quick Internet searching into my conundrum. So, of course, there's a secretary at this place, and she works on the same floor as me and my cubicle is pretty much right in front of her office.

I've seen her through her window while I'm working and naturally she's very beautiful, but frequently I see her sorting her papers and slamming down the receiver on her phone like she's stressed. I know it's probably not the case but I'm really worried that my presence is disturbing her somehow.

And I know I've only been working here a short time, but I feel compelled to do something to dispell this malaise that's affecting her. It can't be good for keeping this place running. Any advice on how to approach her without instigating further issues?

buttonreliever1

joined 02/05/2008, office scandal expert (72,163 posts), posted 08/02/2031, 8:21pm

welcome to our community. first off, good job finding your way here: you've come to the right place

the general rule to keep in mind is that your secretary has it under control. it is practically impossible to contrive a circumstance that she cannot handle with grace

as for the remedy to the disgruntlement youve described, the common method of proposition is encouraged. keep in mind however that there are a few variations to the act depending on the individual secretary. but everyone makes mistakes! so don't worry too much about it since, as stated above, she can handle it. next you see her, regardless of current inconvenience, enter her office and check for what she's wearing. if it's a skirt, you're going to want to simply stick your head under there. in the event of pants, opening the fly is more than enough. either way, you're going to want to tuck yourself under her desk and do what comes natural to her dick. bonus tip: youre probably going to benefit greatly from preceeding all this with a foot massage or licking of the soles, and working your way from there.

thsts more than enough for general use, but if you can provide further information i could give extra tips. cup size, pit hair status, framed photo on desk turned away/to face her, etc.

good luck and let us know how it goes!

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birthing1020 · 2 years ago

Note

🤰2️⃣🚎👖⌛️?

Inconveniently your car has been broken down for the past week, so you had to resort taking the bus. You sigh as you step into the vehicle, your very protruded belly pushed out; just about everyone saw your belly before they saw you.

You waddle your way down the middle isle, wearing tight black pants and a fairly large shirt, but everyone knew you were about to pop - little did they know, it’s been several weeks past your due date and the hospital kept sending you home because nothing was happening - yet. You were on your way back to see if they could finally induce you.

You rub your bump with one hand, your other squeezing your knee as the bus was about to take off. You lean back against the window and close your eyes.

“Not much longer little ones.”

You deeply sigh and chuckle at a kick from your belly. At this point you hated being pregnant. It’s one thing with one baby, but twins?! This was torture even for someone who loved being pregnant, but you couldn’t wait to push those babies out.

As the bus was heading towards a red light, you feel a tight sensation in your belly; slight pain overtaken as your breathing hitches. Could it be? And possibly here?! These people don’t want to see that! You thought in your mind, but it was about time; two weeks overdue has just about killed you and you were ready to push when the opportunity presented itself.

You squeeze your eyes shut and squeeze your belly. “Oh —.” You let out a sharp breath and part your legs wider, the pants only restraining your legs. Uncomfortably, you rest more on your back and groan a little louder, breathing through the pains of each contraction.

Before you know it, liquid had soaked up your panties and seeped through on to the seat. You knew it was time, but the constricting pants seemed merely impossible to take off with how wet you were. “Oh, God. It’s time!” You moan out and feel the sudden urge to push, you hunch over in pain and rest your hand over the crotch of your pants. You push again, forcefully trying to pry open your legs with the fabric only restricting you. “I knew I should have worn a dress.”

Legs strained to one spot, you rest back on the window and pant, a bulge visible in your tight pants if you look hard enough. “Oh shit!” You moan out and push harder, the crowning head and rest of the body force it’s way into your panties, everyone around you could see what was going on, but of course nobody stepped up to help.

You pant and sigh with relief, only realizing you have one more baby to push out. You lay across the bus seat, legs spread to the maximum without tearing apart your pants. You keep a hand on the first bulge and groan through a new set of contractions, the pain that you once felt only coming back for the second time. You could feel the baby shifting his way through your birth canal as you push, your panties now stretched from your current child and the one on the way.

“Oh, God. He’s coming!” You push down several times through the contractions as the head crowns and you’re laying there. One baby in your panties, the other about to meet their sibling in these tight and restricting pants. You moan out and push again, the bumps in the road only making these contractions feel worse. “Oh!” You scream out and push your whole baby out, two bulges now resting on your thighs. The sounds of two babies crying fill the air around you as you lay still, trying to comprehend all of what just happened.

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babytarttdoodoo · 2 years ago

Note

Jamie’s afraid of making a big deal out of being hurt after everything that happened in season 1 - he doesn’t want everyone to think he’s being a prick again. But then one day either in season 2 or 3 he actually is genuinely hurt badly (the reason is up to you) but doesn’t tell anyone and shows up to practice anyway. It’s bad enough that he collapses on the field and that’s when everyone finds out.

I could have made this so much easier on myself and literally just written the conversation at the end. As it is, I started hating this about a third of the way through.

I hope that's just hyper-criticism of my own work and that this is still an enjoyable request fill.

---

It wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose.

A lack of sleep, a dark hallway, and a half-forgotten set of steps had all converged into a little tumble in the middle of the night. That was all.

A bruised side. A knock on the head. No big deal.

That’s what Jamie had told himself as he’d inspected the damage in the mirror. He would be fine. He could put his kit on at home and wear a beanie to cover up the dark smudge of skin at his temple.

No one would notice. No one needed to know. It would be fine. Hardly the first time he’d pushed through an injury to stay in the game, was it?

He didn’t need to miss training. He didn’t need to turn up at Nelson Road and tell Ted he couldn’t play. Just the thought of trying to do so sent a thrill of unease through Jamie that he wasn’t keen to examine too closely.

So he took some ibuprofen, slowly and stiffly got changed into his Richmond gear, and called a taxi to get himself to the training ground late enough that no one had time to question his appearance.

(Driving was out of the question. He could admit that.)

Roy all but sneered at him when he stumbled in - that wasn’t anything to write home about, though. He caught a few looks from the others and had to wave Dani off on their way out to the pitch but, otherwise, Jamie was able to keep his head down and not draw attention to himself.

Drills were awful. Just stretching out his legs had him biting his tongue against making any pained sounds. When they started lunging, the hot-sick pain in his side necessitated swallowing down bile.

Sprints weren’t the worst, though Isaac definitely noticed he wasn’t starting from a crouch as he normally would. Then Nate had them doing a coordination exercise, hopping sideways and throwing balls between each other.

Lifting his arms was bad enough. Then each hop jolted Jamie’s whole body and made his head throb.

He managed, somehow, but Jamie wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was being slow and clumsy. He was being useless. Fuck.

Panting, sweating, and trying not to throw up, he hovered at the back of the group and prayed no one called him out. No such luck.

“You alright, mate?” Colin had sidled over while Ted called out their scrimmage teams. He was speaking quietly, which Jamie appreciated, but frowned at him with an unusual level of seriousness. Shit.

“Course I am.” Jamie forced himself to straighten up and smile. It felt wrong on his face. Too many teeth. “Just got a stitch. Didn’t drink enough.”

Colin looked doubtful, like he was about to question him further, but Jamie pushed forward to accept his yellow vest from Beard and positioned himself as far away from the Welshman as he could.

He was careful to stay in the formation they were practising, though. No sense in fucking up training for everyone more than he already had.

Roy hollered “WHISTLE!” from the side of the pitch and everyone lurched into action. Running around wasn’t so bad and Jamie soon lost himself in the game, following the movement of the ball and players with a preternatural instinct, ignoring any pain as the inconvenient distraction it was.

The few times the ball came his way, he took control of it as if by second nature, barely having to tell his feet what to do as he passed to Dani, then to Sam ten minutes later.

He was being a good teammate. He was playing like he was supposed to. And then he heard someone shout his name.

Jamie didn't need to look around to know that the ball would be sailing through the air towards him. He didn't need to deliberate about what to do. He would catch the ball on his chest and send it to Sam again before Richard could make it close enough to tackle. It was the only option to get it in the net.

He didn't need to think about it. He just did it.

And his sore, battered ribs only crossed his mind when he jumped up and twisted mid-air.

The yelp of pain was completely involuntary and Jamie would have been horrendously embarrassed by it if he hadn’t immediately crumpled into a heap on the pitch.

Something had grinded in his torso. It fucking hurt. It felt wrong.

He distantly registered the sound of an actual whistle over the rushing white noise in his ears as he lay gasping on the damp grass. A hand grasped his arm and Jamie realised Richard had skidded to his knees beside him, ball forgotten.

“Jamie? What’s wrong?” More hands were on him, trying to turn him over, but the slight pull sent another wave of sick pain through his side and he keened, curling up further to stave off the harm. “Merde, get the medics.”

“Colin’s already gone.” That was Isaac, a lot closer than he’d been less than five minutes ago, defending the box on the other end of the pitch. “He’ll need a stretcher if we can’t move him ourselves.”

“Fuck.” The notion of needing to be carried out of training brought Jamie back to himself. “I don’t need… Fuck it. I’m fine.”

“No, you are not.” Sam was standing over him as well, Jamie realised as he tried to force himself up to his knees at least. Most of the team were looming around, actually, and Ted broke through their little huddle right as a spike in pain brought up the vomit Jamie had been desperately holding back all morning.

“Hoo boy.” An American accent could really cut through the crowd, apparently, since Jamie had no problem hearing that low exclamation over twenty or so sounds of disgust.

Someone stopped him from pitching forward into his own sick and Jamie finally, limply, accepted help back upright onto his own shaky legs. Ted’s hands were one of the several pairs supporting him and Jamie could feel the humiliation and shame rising up in his gut like another bout of nausea.

“Sorry, coach,” he mumbled, even as he let Isaac put a secure arm around his waist. Sam tried to prop up his other side but Jamie shied away with an apologetic shake of the head. “Ribs. Don’t- Can’t lift me arm right now.”

He silently begged the younger player to understand, to not take it as yet another personal slight. Because Sam Obisanya was a much better person than Jamie would ever be, he only took a firm hold of Jamie’s elbow instead, face belying nothing but concern.

“Okay, folks, let’s give him some room.” Ted shooed gently at everyone not currently vital to keeping Jamie vertical. “You fellas got a good hold of him? We can get a stretcher out here, tout sweet.”

“Don’t want a fucking stretcher. I can walk.” Jamie bit out, choosing not to acknowledge how heavily he was still leaning on Isaac and Sam.

“Well, son, I’m not all too keen on taking your word for that right now.”

Ted’s tone didn’t change at all from the pleasant, practical way he’d just addressed the others. He didn’t raise his voice even a little. Jamie still felt the admonishment like a physical blow and hung his head with a wince.

“We’ve got him,” Sam spoke up. “Treatment room, right?”

They made an awkward threesome, hobbling off the pitch behind Ted and down the tunnel. Colin jogged out to meet them with a medic in tow and (surprise, surprise) Roy peeled off from the other coaches to join the entourage hustling Jamie towards the now-not-haunted medical suite.

Settled uncomfortably on the edge of the reclining bed, with a hovering audience whose eyes he couldn’t meet if he tried, Jamie numbly answered the medic’s questions about his pain level and location. He allowed her to gently remove his hat and examine the bruise underneath, went through the concussion tests without complaint, and was even honest about when he’d last eaten or drank anything.

When she pulled up his shirt, there was more than one sympathetic wince around the room. A quick look down confirmed that the bruise, though still quite small, had deepened in colour since he’d last poked at it and his skin looked oddly swollen around the area.

Even the barest methodical prodding with careful fingers made Jamie flinch and hiss through his teeth. The medic (Jennifer, Jamie vaguely recalled) hummed thoughtfully.

“Two are definitely broken. You’ll need to stay off the pitch for a few weeks, at least.”

The prognosis tightened Jamie’s throat like a hand was clamped around his neck.

“Weeks? Nah, fuck that,” he choked out. “I were playing fine until I took the chest ball. I can still score.”

“Are you actually thick?” Roy demanded, loud and angry as per usual. There was something wild in his expression as he stepped closer to the bed. “How fucking stupid do you have to be to try and play with broken fucking ribs.”

“Fuck off, you won’t even coach me,” Jamie snarled at him, all attempts at mending bridges forgotten in the wake of pain and frustration. “Don’t act like it matters if I play hurt or not. I’ve done it plenty times before.”

“Alright, alright!” Ted cut in between them before Roy could retort with whatever words had conjured up that twisted, outraged look on his face. Nothing good, Jamie was sure.

“Roy, why don’t you take five, okay? In fact, let’s clear the room. Y’all got things to do, I’ll stick with Jamie while the good doc here gets him set up with what he needs.”

Even with Ted partially blocking his view, Jamie could see Roy was about to argue. Surprisingly, it was Isaac’s hand on his shoulder that seemed to take the wind out of his sails.

“Fuck! Fine!” He shrugged the hand off and pointed damningly at Jamie’s face. “But you’re not putting a toe out on the grass until I say so, you bloody fuckwit.”

With that, Roy stormed out of the room, sending the door bouncing off the wall with the force of his exit. Jamie’s teammates followed much more sedately, all with looks back over their shoulders and quiet murmurs Jamie couldn’t discern.

“Here.” He jumped slightly when maybe-Jennifer reappeared at his side with a bundle of items. “Drink this and take two paracetamol. Hold the ice pack to your side for twenty minutes. If the swelling hasn’t gone down, I’ll send you home with a few extras, okay?”

“Thank you kindly, doc,” Ted answered for him. “I’ll make sure he stays put for a bit.”

“Not a doctor,” she corrected mildly but gave Ted a smile and nod. “I’ll need you to sign an incident report and there’s some insurance paperwork to go through. I’ll go get the ball rolling on that and check in later.”

Jamie didn’t really like the way they were talking around him, rather than to him. He liked the idea of being alone with Ted after having caused a scene and an extra load of work for him even less. Still, he couldn’t think of any reason for the medic to stay and just watched her walk away, gently closing the door in her wake.

“You should probably do as she says,” Ted said softly after a moment of quiet, indicating the bottle of water and packet of tablets. “Doesn’t strike me as the ‘take it or leave it’ kind of advice. Rarely is, from those of the medical persuasion, even if they don’t have a fancy title.”

Moving like he was underwater, braced for the other shoe to drop, Jamie silently went through the motions of taking the painkillers. He tried not to move in any way that would agitate his injury but his hands were still shaking by the time he reached for the ice pack.

“Oh, here, let me…” Ted stepped in closer, his own hands outstretched, and Jamie flinched violently. The sudden jolt caused his abused ribs to make themselves known all over again and a small shout fell from his mouth unbidden.

“Alright, okay, no touching, got that memo, loud and clear,” Ted rambled on while Jamie waited for his vision to clear from the haze of pain. When it did, he noticed his coach frozen in place, hands still hovering in midair and significantly less threatening than moments before.

“Sorry,” he croaked, embarrassment and discomfort robbing his voice. “Didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Now, hey, no. That one’s on me.” Ted glanced around and pulled up a chair to sit near Jamie’s knees. “How’s about you get that ice where it needs to be and you and I have a little heart-to-heart, that sound okay?”

Jamie nodded and gingerly wrapped the frozen pouch in the towel provided before applying it to his side. The relief was almost immediate and he felt his shoulders relax from the tense position he hadn’t even registered amongst everything else.

Ted clearly noticed too, since he smiled up at Jamie. There was still a furrow between his eyebrows, though.

“Ain’t it great when stuff helps the way it’s supposed to?” he started and Jamie tried not to let the dread of what was coming show on his face. “You know, when you’re sure that, in theory, something should do you good but you’re not quite bought into the reality yet? It’s a damn good feeling when the bet pays off.

“Course, sometimes it goes the other way. The thing that’s supposed to help you doesn’t do anything at all. Or, hell, it just makes everything worse…”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie blurted out again in a panic. “I weren’t trying to do that. I swear, I know I’m not supposed to mess up training or nothing. I… I…”

“Whoa, whoa, Jamie!” Ted’s smile had dropped clean off his face. “I think we’ve got some wires all muddled up here, somewhere. I’m not fishing for an apology. Matter of fact, I’m kind of wriggling on the end of the hook, myself.”

Jamie really, honestly tried to wrap his head around that one. He failed. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Ted told him firmly. “We all knew something wasn’t right with you out there today and let you play on through anyway. That’s no bueno. If you can’t rely on your coach to help you out when you need it, well, then, that’s not a sign of a very good coach, is it?”

Jamie stared at him, dumbfounded. “But… I didn’t tell you I were hurt.”

“There is that,” Ted agreed easily, nodding and settling back in his chair. “And I’d sure like to hear how you got knocked around so good in the whole twelve hours you were out of our sight. Any particular reason you didn’t share that with the class this morning?”

“I…” The hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack to Jamie’s ribs started picking at the disposable paper sheet on the bed. “I fell. Down the stairs at me house. Last night. I. It didn’t hurt too bad, I thought.”

Ted hummed. “Well, you see? Accident like that, it ain’t anybody’s fault. And you felt okay after?”

The excuse hung there so temptingly that Jamie was almost inclined to think they were back to mind games. He could tell Ted that he’d been sore, but fine, up until he got out on the pitch. But that would be just another lie, wouldn’t it? And all lying had done for him today was drag more and more people into his shit.

So, instead of agreeing like he so desperately wanted to do, he shook his head slowly.

“No, no I weren’t okay.” He swallowed and looked down at his shoes, dangling just shy of the floor. “Couldn’t even drive myself in, could I? But I thought being here and acting normal was better than… better than saying I couldn’t train today. More important.”

“Oh. Now, that’s another thing to chalk up in the ‘no bueno’ category, I’m sorry to say.” Ted’s voice had softened again but Jamie couldn’t bring himself to look up. “Jamie, if you’re hurting, ever, practice or no, I’d really rather you say so. Nothing’s more important than that.”

“Team is,” Jamie objected quietly. “Being here is. I don’t got anywhere to get sent back to now, do I?”

That sullen admission hung in the air. Jamie heard Ted suck in a breath.

“Okay. Alright. Could you do me a favour and try to lift that handsome as all heck face of yours up, just a smidge? I’m getting the feeling eye contact is going to be real important here.”

With very few options of avoidance available to him, Jamie forced himself to meet Ted’s gaze. His expression bore a startling resemblance to Roy’s wild-eyed reaction before, which did nothing to set Jamie’s mind at ease.

“Jamie, when you turned up to practice last season and said you weren’t going to train, I assumed you were mad because I benched you. That sound about right?”

The player nodded, ready for the familiar prickle of shame that clawed through his chest at the memory.

“So you weren’t actually hurt? Or did I get that wrong?”

Jamie shook his head this time, then clarified: “Were being a prick.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Water under the bridge.” Ted scrubbed a hand over his face, looking relieved for some bizarre reason. “Can we agree, though, that there’s a difference between someone pretending to be hurt, for whatever reason, and someone actually being badly injured? That a middle ground we can settle on?”

“Yeah…” Jamie agreed cautiously.

“Outstanding.” Ted took a deep breath. “So, let’s just take a little hop, skip and jump from there to how things might’ve played out a little differently today than they did last year?”

“Oh.” Jamie blinked a few times, processing. Slotting that bit of logic into the missing gaps of the day. “You’re not angry at me for missing training?”

Ted’s face broke back into a genuine, if tired, smile. “No, sir, I am not angry at you for that. Or for any other reason, while we’re on the subject. I am… mighty disappointed that you didn’t feel like you could come to me, or even call when you took your little tumble. But I think maybe we can both agree to do a little better next time, how about that?”

He held out his hand for a shake - his left, in deference to Jamie’s occupied right. That small concession alone was enough for Jamie to wordlessly grasp Ted’s palm with his own in a firm hold.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

“I know, Jamie,” Ted assured him. “That’s all any of us can do.”

#someone tell me why this is 3k words #jamie tartt #ted lasso #my fic #afc richmond #fic prompts #roy kent

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skyrim-forever · 8 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone, it is another Wednesday (my dudes)! Thanks to the lovely @umbracirrus and @hircines-hunter for tagging me <3

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @thequeenofthewinter @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark

@captain-of-silvenar @changelingsandothernonsense @lady-iizsil @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

This is going to be a long af post because I ran a poll trying to decide what to post, but I'm just gonna give y'all a bit of each because *gestures vaguely to the world* at least we have blorbos <3 First up is another bit from the family fic, then some smut under the cut from another wip that i will have done soon or i will end up on the news MDNI: PICK YOUR POISON BESTIES

“Happy to be free of the misery and dread of Winterhold?” He earns a playful punch before Ceri joins her boyfriend on a sofa.

“You sound too much like Ata.”

“You say that now.” He reaches for something in his armour, a folded paper. “I’ve accepted an offer from a man in Skyrim, wants help going through some Nord tomb.” Walking over to his sister, he shows her the letter, distinctly pointing to the bottom.

“May Talos guide you.” She laughs. “Oh, what would Ata say?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and besides, I do not get paid to care about religion. He could be Tiber Septim reborn for all I care. Might even be good actually, could charge him more.”

“Well then, may Talos guide you Arthano. To Sovengarde!” He rapidly ruffles the top of her hair.

“Shut up.” He laughs.

It is a funny moment between them but Ralos can’t help but feel like he is missing something. He knew the worship of Talos had been a major point of contention between Altmer and Nords; particularly when the Thalmor were in operation. It seems their father would be especially concerned, no, upset, to learn of who his son was working for. But the way neither Arthano nor Ceri seemed to find it anything more than funny puzzled him. It can’t just be his Altmer beliefs…

The kisses are slow for a bit, enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually, Ondolemar’s lips find their way to her neck. The marks he leaves will no doubt be difficult to cover tomorrow, but that is the furthest thing from her mind as she grinds her hips into his.

“I’m going to miss you.” She hums.

“And what will you miss most?” Hands move down to her thighs, creeping their way underneath her nightgown.

“Unfortunately, you have me in a compromising position, my love. I cannot answer fairly at the moment.” Her own hands remove themselves and glide down his bare chest.

“Then don’t.” She pulls the nightgown overhead, tossing it across the bedroom. There’s no time for him to react before she is sliding down, knees resting on the hardwood as she looks up at him. Even in the low candlelight, she can see his expression has changed; a deeper hunger written on his face. Head resting on one thigh while her hand makes its way up the other, tracing the outline of his erection through the thin pants.

“Well. now I certainly cannot.” He groans as she removes his cock, stroking the flesh itself now.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, love.”

“Oh course you are. You want to hear all about how I’m going to miss you like this. How much I enjoy seeing you on your knees for me.” His left hand runs through her hair, smoothing through it as her strokes quicken. “I’ll even miss how you torture me, memories of you like this flashing through my mind at the most inconvenient times. So much has changed except for your ability to distract me from work.”

#wip wednesday #my writing #arthano is a lot like his father #but not in every way #like he mother he can ignore certain things for the right motivation #charging tiber septim more? king behaviour #also smut #this smut scene has nearly killed me I don't why it's been so hard #it also ran away from me #this was supposed to have a different motivation #smut #tw: smut #mdni

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zombiethrillerthings · 1 month ago

Text

Think of Me

Think of Me (Nick x Rochelle Oneshot)

[Set in the “Dark Carnival” Campaign]

(Note: It’s been a while since I’ve been into writing so I want to apologize in advance if the dialogues and paragraphs are kind of funky. I wanted to write something for these two because their ship is underrated. Like seriously. Anyway, enjoy.)

=====

“Tunnel of Love? Jesus Christ!”

Nick scoffed in disbelief when he realized that the next safe room they were going to be in was a space that encouraged a lot of closeness. But of course, he wasn’t worried about that. In fact, it was the least of his concerns right now. They were running away from the danger that is the horde that were screaming bloody murder, their frantic and almost animalistic footsteps thudding loudly against the concrete, reaching his ears and to the other survivors.

“Everyone, into the Tunnel of love!” Coach screamed, turning around briefly to shoot an infected, the bullet passing through their stomach before getting shot in the head as they fell down face first, the blood gushing out of their bullet wound cascading down their furious features.

With deep, heaving breaths, they all made a mad dash towards the entrance of the Tunnel of Love with Nick yelling to “Cut in line”, adding a bit of what seemed like an attempt at easing up the tension despite the fact that they were being chased by zombies wanting to beat the shit out of them. With another bullet whizzing past and hitting an infected square in the face, Ellis was quick to shut the door once the last person—that would be Nick—entered the safe room. Panting heavily and grinning like a mad dog, he hollered and threw a fist in the air.

“We are the kings of the world!”

His voice echoing within the room, Coach couldn’t help but chuckle at Ellis’ contagious positivity. Despite their situation looking pretty damn dreadful, the young mechanic’s penchant for reckless optimism was, while inconvenient at times, a welcomed and needed reprieve from the horrors of the vast epidemic that is the zombie apocalypse.

Nick simply let out a huff as he leaned against the wall, his head tilted back and his eyes glued at the ceiling above him. The safe room wasn’t exactly spacious, but it had enough space to house 4 people and give them some time to breathe. All the running they did from the Vannah Hotel to the Liberty Mall and even passing through Rayford’s unfinished under-the-river tour has made his lungs heave for more air as sweat trickled down his forehead to his jaw and onto his expensive white suit.

He couldn’t stop the scoff that left his thin lips as he wiped the sweat from his forehead using the sleeves of his suit. His suit, his beloved $3000 white suit—they weren’t made for all this running and trekking through shit water. Their once pristine and immaculate white color was now stained with grime and a remnant of sewage water courtesy of that stupid under-the-river bullshit back in Rayford. He will never stop complaining about unsanitary places but for now, he was exhausted from the mad dash they did.

“This is the most relaxing safe room I’ve ever been in,” Nick muttered a little sardonically, checking the bullets in the magazine of his magnum before placing his gun in its holster. He crossed his arms and sighed, the adrenaline in his body slowly calming down.

Just to his right, Rochelle was glancing around the room noting the lack of… anything except for one long table with an ammunition pile that they could use to refill their arsenal.

“Gee, my bedroom was painted like this when I was a kid. Baby blue. I think my dad wanted a boy,” She commented, wincing slightly at the memories of her childhood before shaking her head. She hoped her parents were alright back in Ohio, though with how fast the infection was spreading, it may be a little too late. She didn’t want to think that.

Managing to escape the horde and into the safety of the tunnel of love, the four survivors took a moment to catch their breaths, leaning against the wall or taking a seat at the edge of the table.

The safe room was silent for a while, each of them taking a moment to collect their bearings before they would leave the room and fight another horde of zombies. Getting to New Orleans was harder than they had anticipated with the Jimmy Gibs stock car they used previously stuck at the highway after the roads were blocked by cars and trucks and with Whispering Oaks still having its lights on, they hoped that there was still a way for them to get to safety.

With their breaths collected and their muscles ready for another mad run, Coach glanced around the room and settled his gaze on the door that would lead them further into the Tunnel of Love. Pursing his lips into a thin smile, he turned to his fellow survivors and mused, “Looks like we’re going through the Tunnel of Love, people. No hanky panky.”

Rochelle chuckled, Ellis grinned, and Nick added with his trademark sarcasm. “Did you see the sign out front? Cousins only today.”

“Very funny, white suit Nick,” Ellis grumbled, his eyes narrowing slightly at the gambler before slinging his hunting rifle to his arms and checking the ammo he has in his person.

“Lighten up, Ellis. At least you get to have your wish, right? We are on a ride, buddy.”

“This ain’t that kinda ride, Nick,” He responded, leaning in close as Ellis raised his hand near his mouth and whispered almost conspiratorially, “This is where you make out with your girlfriend.”

Nick’s gaze briefly sought Rochelle before he turned his attention back on the mechanic, one brow raised slightly.

“Alright people, let’s get with it. Make sure to stay close,” Coach commanded.

“I think we should clarify what constitutes ‘close’.”

“Nick, shut your white ass up.”

With the four of them armed and ready, Coach pushed the door open and all of them stepped out of the safe room. They walked through a narrow passageway that led them to the starting point of where the swan boats would take its passengers. Of course, no swan boats ever greeted them, just a couple of infected staggering about.

They were quickly taken care of with Nick pulling his magnum out of its holster and shooting one on their stomach and neck, Coach shoving one before shooting them point blank and blasting their head to smithereens, Rochelle gripping her fire axe firmly and swinging it down on their head, and Ellis using the scope of his hunting rifle and shooting them square on their forehead.

After that’s done, Coach took a quick sweep of the surroundings before urging his fellow survivors with a tilt of his head. Together, they traversed through the narrow tunnels, the red and purple string lights strung along the walls providing them just enough light to see. That, and they also had flashlights attached to their weapons.

“Back in the day, I had some posters that would’ve looked good in this light,” Coach mused mostly to himself, a small hint of a smile curling on his lips as their footsteps echoed against the floors of the tunnel.

“Well, does it bring back any memories, Coach?” Nick smirked teasingly. “You, a cheeseburger, romance in the air.”

“Nicky, I was on the football team. Coach did just fine.”

Rochelle couldn’t help but snicker, her plump, full lips twitching up to a grin. “Damn. It sounds like you used to be on a diet of cheerleaders, Coach.”

The big man simply shrugged his shoulders somewhat cheekily, his small smile now turning to a wide, wolfish grin.

The little conversation they had helped in a way, the nervous tension in their muscles easing just a bit as they continued to walk through the tunnels, reaching what seemed to be the maintenance room.

“Into the swan maintenance room of love!” Ellis voiced quite cheerily, jogging in front of the group as he stepped into the room, hunting rifle in hand in case there was a zombie in his path.

Coach followed suit with Rochelle and Nick trailing behind him. While Ellis was already climbing up the stairs like he was some energy drink, the rest of the group were scanning the area to see if they could find anything that would be useful. A molotov, a pipe bomb, bile bomb maybe? Anything they could throw that could kill the zombies or distract them for a few minutes.

Their search was fruitless; they soon followed after Ellis and climbed up the stairs while Ellis finished off two infected he spotted just by the shelves of what seemed like a storage unit. Reuniting, they took another flight of stairs before making their way to a room with a blasted hole on the floor. Despite the risky factors of not being able to see what was on either side of the tunnel, they all eventually jumped down and continued their trek through the tunnels hoping that they could find the exit already.

If their furrowed brows had anything to reveal, it was the fact that they were annoyed at how seemingly long this tunnel was. Nick was ready to scratch his eyes out and bash his head against the wall as the tunnel seemed to never end. How much longer do they have to walk for the exit?!

In spite of his visible annoyance at the winding tunnels, Rochelle’s teasing voice echoed to his left as she cooed, “I bet Nick remembers the Tunnel of Love being this long.”

His lips twitched and he scoffed, “Not cool, Rochelle.”

She simply responded with a cheeky chuckle.

Wanting to add to the fun, Ellis decided to chime in and slowed his steps until he was walking alongside Rochelle. With a wide grin, he nudged her with his elbow before saying, “What about you, Ro? You ever been to a Tunnel of Love?”

“Nope,” She responded with a slight incline of her head as she peered at Ellis. “Not really a big fan of this kind of thing. Sitting in a plastic tub in a half foot of water? It’s stupid.”

Her answer didn’t seem to faze the mechanic as Ellis’ grin grew wider, leaning in towards her as he whispered, “Oh yeah? Then imagine this. You and that biker dude from Rayford sitting in a swan all close because of how small it is, you’re all smiling and giggling, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and then he whispers into your ear and—”

“Ellis, do not,” Rochelle snickered, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she shook her head and gently pushed Ellis away with her elbow.

“Aww come on, Ro! I mean sure, sitting in a plastic swan sounds stupid but you got that biker dude for company. Ain’t that romantic?” He cooed, wiggling his eyebrows at her as he poked her arm with his finger.

“Can we not talk about that greasy pig?”

Ellis and Rochelle turned to Nick whose jaw was visibly clenched and his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Nick, I don’t wanna sound mean and all, but this is between me and Rochelle. This ain’t about you, brother,” Ellis chided as he stared at the gambler.

“I still have ears, therefore I can hear,” Nick snapped back, his annoyance coming out of him like a steam.

Out of all the things they could talk about, they had to talk about that vest-wearing jackass and they had to talk about him while they were still inside the Tunnel of Love? Nick knew his frustration and annoyance with that biker they met at Rayford was irrational. After all, they were miles away from the other group already and it’s not like they would ever cross paths again. But man, even without mentioning his name, when the word “biker” emanated from Ellis’ mouth, all Nick wanted to do was punch him.

And the image of Francis and Rochelle sitting together in a swan in the Tunnel of Love did not sit well with him.

Nick scoffed, careening his neck just a bit as his fingers curled towards his palm, his words muttered through slightly gritted teeth.

“Why did you have to bring him up? It’s not like we’ll ever meet them again.”

“Man, what’s got you so twisted? I was poking fun at Rochelle, not you.”

Nick scoffed once more as he clicked his tongue, rubbing his face with his palm before adding with a harsh tone, “Yeah, and now she won’t be able to stop thinking about that monkey.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on,” Rochelle interjected as she glanced at Nick with furrowed brows and lips curled to a frown. “Let me put this as nicely as I can. What in the hell is wrong with you?”

He frowned back at her. “You heard me. Now that Ellis mentioned that biker pig, I bet you can’t stop thinking about him now, can you?”

Her jaw dropped at his audacity.

“Excuse me?”

Rochelle glared at him and Nick glared right back at her. He can be an asshole—well, he is—but Rochelle knew that this sudden animosity was out of character for him. Sure, the first time they met the other survivors back at Rayford, Nick was an asshole to them, especially Francis. And while his obvious dislike for Francis still remained, they both were able to have some sort of understanding before they left. And now, his annoyance was anything but logical. But you know what? She ain’t backing down from a fight.

“You know, maybe you’re that annoyed because you were the one thinking about him. You miss him that much, Suit?” She retaliated with a small grin, stepping in front of him as she placed her hand on her hip.

Nick narrowed his eyes into a glare, his annoyance skyrocketing even further as he took a step forward, lowering his head slightly as he stared pointedly at her. Her eyes, brown and ever so defiant. Her lips, thick and ever so plump. He hated the smug grin written on her mouth. If he leaned in a little closer he could—

“Quit it, you two!” Coach bellowed, reprimanding the two of them as he stepped in between and gently pushed them away from each other. “Nicolas, I know you’re an asshole and I’m trying my best to keep my fist away from you, but you’re teetering closer to that edge now, son.”

Then, he would turn to Rochelle. “Ro, don’t add more fire to the flames. We’ve got to focus.”

Her grin ceasing to a pursed, thin line, Rochelle took a deep breath before letting it all out from her nose. Her shoulders sagging slightly, she glanced at Coach and gave him an apologetic smile before whispering, “Sorry, Coach.”

Smiling at Rochelle, Coach patted her on the shoulder, only giving Nick a quick glance as he knew that the gambler would not apologize at all. With a slightly strained sigh, he inclined his head and gestured to the group to keep going.

With another scoff leaving his thin lips, Nick rolled his eyes and rubbed his face with his palm again before trailing behind them, keeping away from the group for a bit in order to calm himself.

He knew that his sudden frustration and irritation was nonsensical and just utterly ridiculous. He knew that Ellis was just joking around with Rochelle and Rochelle wasn’t really thinking about that vest-wearing pig at all.

But that image, that image of her with that biker guy sitting in a plastic swan giggling like a lovestruck teenager irked him immensely. Thinking of it just made him senselessly annoyed again and it was made worse when he imagined Francis wrapping his arm around her shoulder, leaning in and—

He shook his head. Stop it, He would say to himself. Don’t be stupid. Rochelle won’t ever meet that guy again.

That train of thought made him smile a little. That’s right. They won’t ever meet again. They’re already far away from each other and, if she gets a little lonely, he could—

Nick shook his head again as a dry chuckle slipped out of his lips, reaching a hand up to his hair and combing through the strands with his fingers. This tunnel was getting into his nerves, having him think about kissing and getting laid and all that shit. He needed to get out, pronto. Luckily for him, a breeze of air coming from the blasted hole on the side of the tunnel made him let out a sigh as he quickened his steps and hurried after his fellow survivors.

“Thank god,” He rumbled, inhaling in the air before letting it all out in a deep exhale. His body bent over slightly, the sound of blades whirling in the night skies whizzed past them, Coach’s baritone voice slicing through the loud noise. “There’s a chopper!”

The sound of helicopter blades, while loud and irksome, was like music to his ears as Nick glanced up and watched the vehicle fly forward deeper into the amusement park.

“I think it’s headed towards the stadium,” Ellis pointed out. “We should find a way to signal the pilot.”

Coach nodded and Nick let out a huff of approval at the idea. Rochelle patted the mechanic on his shoulder, a gentle smile gracing her lips before looking forward and asking softly, “Is that a roller coaster ahead of us?”

“It is,” Ellis then perked up as he hollered, “That’s the Screaming Oak, baby!”

“A coaster?” Nick mused out loud. “Oh god, we are going on the tracks, aren’t we?”

Coach glanced around his surroundings, noting the truck and a room that seemed like a storage room or a staff room. Whatever the hell it was called, he tilted his head towards the small building before saying, “Let’s check for supplies first. We only have one medkit on us and I doubt our trek on the tracks will be smooth and easy.”

They all nodded in unison. Nick was carrying the only medkit they had, that and he had much more confidence and experience in providing first aid to his fellow survivors. Sure, it didn’t hurt to have the others provide first aid, but his selfish instincts can get the better of him and it somewhat gave him assurance that he won’t die if he had the kit on his back. He wouldn’t hog it though should the need for it rise.

Splitting up in two groups, Coach and Ellis checked inside the truck while Rochelle entered the small building with Nick following behind. There wasn’t really much in the room except for a medicine cabinet, another door that had nothing but crates, and another door that led to the exit. She was quick to open the medicine cabinet and discovered pain pills. There were 6 of them, plenty enough for their travels. She took them in her hands with two bottles in each palm before handing them to Nick.

“Here,” She muttered noncommittally before handing him the last two bottles and closed the medicine cabinet.

Nick couldn’t help but stare at her as he pondered for a moment, putting the pills inside the medkit before pocketing the remaining two in the pocket of his pants.

“Ro,” He would call to her in a low, rumbling tone as he leaned against a nearby wall. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Hm?” She turned her head towards him. “No, not really.”

“Still thinking about that greaseball?”

Her brows then furrowed into a deep crease.

“Will you stop? I wasn’t thinking about him.”

He couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders, arms crossed. “Well, you’re a bit quiet for someone who’s usually a little loud.”

The vein on her forehead throbbed achingly as Rochelle stared at him with a pointed glare, jaws tightening slightly before taking a deep breath and forced herself to answer through gritted teeth.

“I am focusing my energy looking for supplies, Nick.” She stepped away from the medicine cabinet and left the small building, his footsteps following after as he pushed himself off of the wall. “And just because I am quiet does not mean I was thinking about Francis.”

Nick couldn’t stop the smirk that curled on his mouth. Maybe he could give this a little push.

“You are,” he cooed teasingly. “You mentioned his name just now.”

Nick was, and still is, an asshole, she knew that very well. He was just pushing her buttons, she knew that. She didn’t mind a little back and forth but right now, there were more important things to focus on.

Rochelle did her damnedest not to cave in to his teasing, closing her eyes and taking another deep breath as she pursed her lips into a thin line before saying, “I am not thinking about him, Nick. I am trying to focus on our present situation which is to get to the stadium by getting through the coaster.”

By now, the two of them made their way to the emergency gates of the coaster where Coach and Ellis were waiting for them. Nick leaned against the wall as he continued to poke at Rochelle with an infuriating smug smirk on his mouth. “Yeah, but the little red dusting your cheeks says otherwise.”

This suit-wearing piece of shit. Rochelle thought to herself, the furrow on her brows crinkling deeper as she took her fire axe from behind her, clutching it tightly within her palm as she stared at him so hard it seemed like she was trying to drill into his head and kill him.

Coach was quick to interrupt and stop their escalating bickering by opening the emergency gates and having the alarm blare throughout the entire park and said, “No time for arguin’, people! We need to cross this coaster.”

“Oh man, this is like Christmas!” Ellis bawled excitedly, mimicking a train’s sound as the rides whizzed past them before the gates opened.

“Alright people,” Coach pulled his shotgun close to his chest. “Let’s hustle!”

“WOOO!” Ellis was first to enter the tracks with unbridled joy and recklessness as he pulled his dual pistols from their holsters and immediately shoved zombies back before shooting them.

“Go, go, go!” Coach then gestured to Nick and Rochelle to follow with Rochelle quickly stepping on the tracks and trailing after Ellis who was still hollering while saying, “We gotta turn that alarm off! Zombies are swarmin’ in!”

Nick followed suit with Coach being the person on the back and protecting their rear.

“Keep following the tracks! Don’t stop running!”

Despite the mad dash through the tracks with the alarm screeching like a banshee, Nick took long strides and matched his pace with Rochelle as he raised his voice slightly before saying to her, “If it makes you feel any better, the alarm’s louder than you are!”

“Nicolas, for the love of god, SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”

They shoved and shot zombies as they ran through the tracks with Ellis still treating the apocalypse like a vacation and the others busying themselves by shooting and whacking the infected on their heads.

“Hey, at least this ride’s a little better than that tunnel of love huh, Rochelle?” Nick teased again, shooting a zombie that was beginning its ascent towards the tracks.

“Nick, can you stop for just a minute and focus?!” She snapped with a harsh tone, craning her head towards him as she gave him a deadly glare.

“I just can’t understand why you would think about that greasy biker—”

“Are you seriously still on THAT?!”

Nick simply responded in an incredulous huff as he stared at her like his question wasn’t nonsensical or anything.

“I am just asking a reasonable question—”

“I wasn’t thinking about him in the first place! Ellis was the one who brought him up!” Rochelle cut him off as she retorted, her voice growing slightly high-pitched as they continued to run through the tracks, reaching a dip and sliding down before landing on their feet with a grunt.

Nick staggered slightly on his feet before regaining balance. “But you know at the back of your mind, you were thinking about him!”

“Oh my GOD!” Rochelle grumbled out loud.

“Quit your bickerin’, you two! Focus on running!” Coach bellowed as he admonished them with a hard glare, whipping his head around to shoot a zombie following them before turning his gaze back in front of him. “This ain’t the time to be actin’ like children!”

“Blame him! He won’t shut up about that Francis guy!”

“See, you mentioned his name twice!”

“Nicolas, I will shove this axe right up your—”

“AAAGH!”

The three of them gasped as the shrieks of pain from Ellis alarmed them. Pushing past the other two, Coach quickly hurried towards the young mechanic leaving Nick and Rochelle to trail after him as they shoved zombies aside.

“Hang on, Ellis!” Coach screamed, his legs skidding to a stop as his eyes settled on the Hunter clawing on Ellis as it growled and snarled with a blazing rage that plagued its mind due to the Green Flu.

Gritting his teeth, Coach charged forward and shoved the Hunter off of Ellis, pointing his shotgun and quickly pulling on the trigger as the Hunter screeched in pain before falling on the wooden tracks while Rochelle took Ellis’ arm and pulled him up hastily and gently.

“Come on, get up! Can you still run?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

“I’m hurt all over but I’ll live, ma’am,” Ellis grunted, one arm clutched over his abdomen as he turned his head towards her, grinned, and thanked her.

“See what happens?!” Coach snapped as he glared at Nick and Rochelle. “Now come on! We’re almost there!”

Their run lagged as they matched Ellis’ pace, not wanting to leave him behind and not wanting to rush him too much since he was in pain. After emerging from the tunnel of the coaster, Nick’s gaze landed on the controllers of the coaster and pushed past the group as Coach shouted at him, “Turn it off!”

“I’m on it, I’m on it!” Nick shouted back, shoving the zombies left and right as Coach and Ellis provided him cover while Rochelle covered their rear.

He entered the booth and quickly slammed his palm down on the button as the alarm ceased to screech. The zombies’ growls and shrieks of sickly rage soon filled the air as Coach, Ellis, and Rochelle trailed after Nick, peering over his shoulder as he called out, “Safe house!”

With the alarm off and the infected still chasing after them, they all hurried to the safe room. Finally reaching the safe confines of refuge, Coach then slammed the door shut and locked it. Panting heavily, Rochelle let out a soft chuckle, relieved that they can have a moment of peace before having to face the horde again.

However, her chuckles soon died down when she noticed Coach’s narrowed eyes, shrinking slightly as she asked in a low whisper, “What?”

He crossed his arms and huffed through his nose before turning towards Ellis and stretched his arm out towards him as Ellis sat down on a box, hunched over with one arm on his stomach, his sides scratched with crimson coloring his yellow Bullshifters t-shirt.

“Look at him,” he grunted. “Because of you two, Ellis is bleedin’!”

Rochelle gasped and Nick scoffed as the two of them began to come up with a reason—more of an excuse, really.

“He wouldn’t shut up about—” “I was just trying to—”

“SHUT IT!” Coach bellowed, making Ellis raise his head and reach out his free arm in an attempt to placate the big man from blowing up any further.

“It’s just some scratches, Coach. I’ll be okay,” Ellis murmured softly with a slight wince, his eyes peering at each of them with worry.

“You should be blaming him, not me!” Rochelle pointed an accusatory finger towards Nick who turned towards her with a glare, his jaw agape.

“I’m blaming you two,” Coach exclaimed with finality, taking his steps forward towards Nick as he asked for the medkit. Nick simply let out a small, annoyed huff as he rolled his eyes and took the medkit from his back and gave it to Coach. Before the football coach could go to Ellis’ aid, he first swung the medkit on Nick’s head eliciting a loud ‘ow!’ from him. Then, turning to Rochelle, she just closed her eyes and waited for the impact as Coach swung the medkit on her head as well before adding, “Go to the corner and sort your issues out right now.”

He then marched up to Ellis, his head whipping back towards them when he noticed they hadn’t moved an inch from where they were standing. “CORNER. NOW.”

He’s a teacher alright. Rochelle thought, a deep and exasperated sigh leaving her lips as she did what was instructed. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, biting her inner cheek in frustration as she stared at the floor with a frown etched on her features.

Nick let out an audible grumble before begrudgingly walking towards the corner, standing just inches away from her as he slid his hands into his pockets.

Neither of them said a word, neither of them even glanced at each other. Nick was annoyed and so was she. I mean, who wouldn’t be? They were bickering while running on the tracks and they weren’t quick enough to react to Ellis getting pounced by a Hunter.

Her brows creased deeper as she picked the skin on her arm, the tiny portion of her own flesh trapped between her fingers. She knew that she wasn’t the one who started their child-like back and forth, but she supposed that she still shared the blame since she could have just ignored Nick and let him ramble on while they ran. If she did, she might have picked up on the low growls of the Hunter and alerted everyone before it pounced on Ellis or any of them.

She tilted her head up towards the ceiling, lips pursed into a thin line as she began to wonder why Nick was so incensed with the idea that she was thinking about Francis when the guy wasn’t even on her mind until now. That was done and over with, and sure she might have reciprocated Francis’ somewhat implied attraction towards her but that was done to humor him a little. Her main focus was to get to New Orleans and try to survive this apocalypse as much as she could. Hell, by the time they left Rayford, his name had taken a backseat in her brain as she focused on their current situation and in their current group.

Rochelle was shaken out of her stupor when Nick scoffed and glowered, “Will you stop thinking about him?”

“I wasn’t, you boorish jackass.”

He let out a mirthless chuckle as he angled his head to face her, a cynical smirk dancing across his thin lips before continuing, “Big words, Ro. But we both know that’s not true.”

Her eyes narrowed into a harsh and pointed glare as she gritted her teeth before jabbing back, “How many times do I have to tell you that I wasn’t? I wasn’t thinking of him back in the Tunnel of Love, I’m certainly not thinking about him now. Honestly, the only reason you would react this way is because—”

Rochelle paused, her eyes scrutinizing the features on his countenance before a wide, knowing grin curved on her lips and stretched towards her ears, a cheeky chuckle escaping her chest as she slanted her chin in a mischievous and somewhat challenging gesture.

Shit.

Nick looked away, his smirk giving way to an annoyed frown as he grumbled and huffed. He didn’t want to say it out loud and he certainly didn’t want to hear her say it out loud. It was bad enough that he had already realized this early on before they got on the tracks, now he was facing the brunt extent as to why he was so huffy about the whole ordeal.

Jealousy.

Just thinking about being jealous of that biker was enough to make his skin boil as he gritted his teeth and scoffed. Why should he be jealous about that scumbag? He was much more well-dressed, he wasn’t a dumbass, and he certainly was much more handsome than Francis ever will be.

And sure, Nick might have also encouraged her to go after that biker when he showed interest in her but even then, there was a small part of him that regretted giving Rochelle a small push towards that tattoo-wearing, greasy-looking, almost bald biker jackass.

Why did Ellis have to bring up that guy again? Why did he have to paint a picture to Rochelle about sitting in a swan together like they were on a date?

Nick was right there. He was there, he was here. He was here with them, with her. He’s the one standing right beside her.

“Nicolas,” Rochelle more or less purred, her voice a soft and low whisper as his lips twitched a bit before turning around to face her.

His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he stared at her with a slight scowl. She simply grinned at him as she teased, “I never thought you would actually be jealous over something so small. Afraid you’re losing your touch?”

Nick scoffed and grumbled, “Shut up, Ro.”

She giggled feverishly, her hand coming up to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

He would never admit it out loud, but her laughter was music to his ears. Sure, he’s used to hearing women giggle and laugh since he was, and is, a charming asshole, but to hear Rochelle laugh and chuckle like this in brief periods of their respite somehow soothed him. She was always trying to focus on their main goal, on being level-headed and being calm, so to witness her in this rather laidback manner brought some sort of solace in his guarded heart.

“And here I thought you were nothing more than a jackass. Turns out you do have feelings,” Rochelle cooed like she was speaking to a toddler.

He scoffed and chuckled wryly, shaking his head before staring back at her as an almost imperceptible smile flashed across his lips. God, if only he could smash his mouth against hers and wipe that teasing smile away.

“You know, now that I think about it, I kind of miss that guy.”

“ROCHELLE,” Nick growled, his jaw tightening as he glared at her in warning.

A bark of hysterical laughter rose from her lungs and out of her mouth as she placed a hand on his shoulder as if to steady herself. Shaking her head, she hunched over slightly before straightening herself as she peered at him, her laughter getting fueled at the sight of the annoyed scowl written on his features.

“I seem to remember someone telling me and encouraging me to go after Francis since I wasn’t, and I quote, “getting any younger”. So what, does that still ring true today?”

“Absolutely not,” was his quick response as Nick begrudgingly shrugged her hand away from his shoulder and crossed his arms. “Just… Just stop talking about him. Think of something else, you know? Anything but that jackass.”

Her grin widened. “Are you trying to control my thoughts, Nicky? Not very ‘ladies’ man’ of you.”

“I don’t care, Ro. I don’t have that many options especially when the only women I know that are alive so far are you and that Zoey girl.”

“Zoey hates your guts and you will find yourself staring at Ellis with a grenade launcher pointed at you.”

He rolled his eyes, rubbing his face with his palm before letting out a sigh. “Look, you’re an attractive lady, Ro. Calm, sensible, takes no shit from anyone, especially my shit. Not only that, you’re quite a crack shot even if you aren’t that fond of guns.”

Rochelle raised an eyebrow, a little perplexed. “Uh, where are you going with this exactly…?”

“What I’m trying to say is,” He paused, his eyes staring deeply into hers that sent tingles down her spine. He murmured with a deep and low rumble of his voice, “Stop thinking about that guy and think of me instead. I’m the one here beside you, aren’t I?”

Her eyes widened and a small, amused grin stretched on her lips as she inclined her head before asking, “Is that a confession, Nicolas?”

“And if I told you it is?”

A snort escaped her. “Real smooth, Nick.”

Nick chuckled, the corners of his mouth twitching up to a smile. It then grew quiet between them, a warm stillness just simmering beneath the surface of their thoughts as their eyes met once more.

The Green Flu had taken a lot from them; families, friends, a place to go, a place to stay. A trying time in which building trust can be questionable, can be advantageous, or can be one’s doom. They all knew they would never be grouped like this, they all came from different walks of life. And yet, despite the shaky beginning, despite the lingering doubt of whether one would leave the other behind or not, they continued to stick together like glue. Practically speaking, it was necessary since they all knew they could never survive on their own. But the funny thing about facing trials and tribulations with someone together, a bond would form imperceptible to the eye. An inkling of its presence and there would be denial. Still, with each hindrance conquered, realizations would seep into their minds and it would be effortless to say that they need each other, come what may.

Nick was still apprehensive of sticking together as he was used to looking out for himself and only himself. This was contradictory to everything he stood for, but he knew that his chances of survival would slim to zero if he went to New Orleans on his own. And, despite all the complaining, the cynicism, the desire for self-preservation and selfishness, he could picture himself with this group beyond just New Orleans. Rochelle, Coach, even Ellis. It might not be much but it was a start.

He gave her a small, almost warm smile as he muttered softly, “I’m not leaving you behind, Ro. Not when you’re this sexy.”

She laughed and playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh really? And how many women have you told this exact line?”

“Cut me some slack, Rochelle,” He laughed with her. “I’m trying here.”

Eyes brimming with amusement, Rochelle simply shook her head before settling her gaze on his handsome features once more. She still noted the slight apprehension with how tight his shoulders were from just saying those small words, but she also noticed the sincerity that bubbled beneath the tough bravado he was displaying. It was slow but he was getting there; they were slowly allowing themselves the vulnerability of trusting one another.

With another smile, she nudged him with her elbow before saying, “I’m not leaving you behind either. We all won’t.”

“I know,” he remarked a little cockily. “No one’s going to butt heads with Coach, Ellis won’t have his number one bully, and you’ll miss me and my complaining.”

“On second thought, maybe I should’ve swapped you with Francis.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

Sharing another chuckle together, they both leaned their backs against the wall before turning to one another, the corners of their lips upturned into a small smile. His gaze would roam over her countenance, taking note of how her forehead was free from any baby hairs and how her eyebrows were thin and sharp. There were still remnants of her eyeshadow that colored her lids and her cheeks and lips were more or less relatively clean, save for the one bruise on the right side of her cheek. He was tempted to give her a different kind of bruise.

He was shaken out of his somewhat drunken daze with a gentle prod from her elbow. He met her eyes that brimmed with glee at how shameless he was staring at her. Rochelle gave him a knowing grin, careening her head against the wooden wall before whispering, “You’re not that subtle with your thoughts, Suit.”

“Subtlety has never been in my dictionary, sweetheart,” he grinned back, mirroring her.

It was strange how you could find solace from such a person in the middle of an apocalypse. Rochelle knew she would never entertain the idea of being with someone like Nick given that he was a conman that never settled in one place, ladies included. And Nick knew that he would never be with someone like Rochelle who seemed more focused with her career than anything else before the shitshow that is the Green Flu happened. Their lifestyle and personal choices weren’t necessarily bad, that was just who they were. But perhaps, it was what made them connect much more easily on an unconscious level. The banter, the push and pull; it reminded them of the present, of where they are, that they were still here, alive and breathing. Nick would rather have her loudness fill his ears than the groans and growls of the sick. And Rochelle, she would rather have him begrudgingly help the group than never meeting him at all.

“I’ve got your back, Ro. That’s for certain.”

“You’re going to have to phrase that differently, Nick.”

“Jesus Christ woman, we just met a couple of days ago.”

Another bark of laughter would fill the air between them as they cackled, their grins wide and stretched from ear to ear. They would keep their eyes on each other as if talking telepathically, their bodies slowly inching forward towards one another before Coach’s voice sliced through the growing tension.

“I told y’all, no hanky panky,” he uttered with amusement, arms crossed as he eyed them with a raised brow.

Rochelle simply chuckled and Nick rolled his eyes, a little annoyed at the interruption. Perhaps, when they get to New Orleans, maybe he and Rochelle could share a moment or two alone.

“How’s our little mechanic?” she asked gently.

“Like he wasn’t pounced on by a Hunter at all.”

Together, the three of them whipped their heads to see Ellis already rolling his shoulders, bandages wound firmly around his body as he grabbed his hunting rifle and gave them his young, boyish grin.

“All good to go!” he chirped, flexing his arm. “Them zombies ain’t takin’ us alive.”

Pleased that he was still as energetic as ever, Coach would turn his attention back to Rochelle and Nick as he asked, “A’ight. Have you kids sorted your issues out?”

A chortle exited her lips as she nodded. “We’re good, Coach.”

Nodding his head and smiling, he both patted their shoulders before turning around and making his way towards Ellis who was now uttering another tale regarding his buddy, Keith.

Letting another chuckle leave her chest, a small gasp exited her lips when Nick followed after Coach and pushed past her, his fingers just barely brushing along her arm and his lips ghosting near her locs. Her cheeks warmed just a bit as she stood there, frozen. Taking a deep breath and staring at the back of his head, Rochelle couldn’t help but smirk before trailing behind him. Standing just to his right, she would gently reach out with her pinky finger and lightly touch his hand. In response, he extended his pinky finger and wrapped it around hers all while keeping their attention and ears to Ellis recounting another tale of how he and his friend Keith made fireworks.

It was something so minor, so minute. And yet, it kept the fire in them, the will to go on, alive and burning. It would still be a long and arduous journey before the two of them could ever bring down the walls fenced around their vulnerability. But for now, this little gesture was a small promise that they were going to get out of this hellhole and reach the embrace of safety. With Coach, with Ellis, with him and with her—

—Together.

=====

(A silly idea came to mind while I was playing L4D2. I thought, “What if Nick and Rochelle were arguing while running on the tracks in map 3?” The characters might be slightly OOC so I do have to apologize for that. I’m planning on posting this on ao3 as well and hope to create more fics for these two because I love them so much it makes me cry. I hope you enjoyed this! If not, I… uh… I’m sorry………..)

#l4d2 #l4d2 nick #l4d2 rochelle #nick x rochelle #nickro #nickrophilia #l4d2 fanfic #my first time posting a fic here on tumblr #fanfiction #it's been a while since I wrote anything pls forgive me #Left 4 Dead 2 #Nick and Rochelle need to kiss #and [REDACTED]

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