#and deliberately difficult to navigate

[theharlotofferelden]

I fuckin hate how health services are connected to apps.

I’ve been procrastinating on finding a certain kind of specialist and didn’t realize that part of the reason for doing so had to do with not having an account for a certain app.

So every time I try to look up the specialist it’ll open up the app and not have the proper login info because it’s 9pm and I’m too lazy to find my health insurance card.

I’m just wondering: why the simple fuck can I not just find the specialist that is covered under my insurance without having all this bullshit in the way? There is literally no reason for this beyond the American Healthcare System being designed to be this fucking annoying.

If the American Healthcare System was a person I would’ve stabbed the fuck outta them rn.

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: request from anon, in which you don't know French and a stranger helps you find your way back home Warning: 18+, SMUT, mean charles, degradation, some French (badly translated please correct me if needed), smut, smut, smut.... Word Count: 1808 Author's Note: I can't stop writing smut??? I think I hit every area the anon wanted!!! xo hope you like it lmaoooo also I wrote this so fast so it might not be my best work but I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write to pass the time. UPDATE: Also I just want to give a major shoutout to @dannyramirezwife for checking the translations for me!! It seriously means the world to meeee PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

DESPITE MONACO'S REPUTATION as one of the smallest countries in the world, you found yourself defying expectations by getting lost. The common assumption that such a compact place would be easy to navigate proved to be a misconception, as Monaco’s intricate streets and unique layout presented a challenge, turning what seemed impossible into a reality. Your reality.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The murmur of students passing by echoed, their conversations blending into a linguistic symphony of French, a language foreign to your ears. The decision to pursue the International University of Monaco, a place where the native tongue was French, felt like a bold and ambitious choice at first. The picturesque landscapes, the allure of the Mediterranean, and the prestigious academic reputation had drawn you in. 

However, as you stood outside the building, the reality of linguistic barriers hit you with full force. It seemed like every conversation, every announcement, and every piece of information was enveloped in a language you struggled to comprehend. Although, most knew English, it wasn’t the standard, and you were not yet adjusted to it. 

Panic surged through you as you hurriedly navigated the winding sidewalks, desperately trying to locate the building housing your apartment. Your focus was solely on scanning the towering buildings, hoping to spot a familiar one. The urgency of the situation compelled you to dart forward, not paying mind to those surrounding you. It was a recipe disaster, leading you to collide right into the body of another person.

“Mon dieu,” My God. The man said with a slight annoyance in his tone. “Regarde où tu marches!” Watch where you’re walking!

As the words were proclaimed, your eyes locked with a man’s gaze. He was the most stunning individual your eyes have ever beheld. His physique was tan, sculpted and taut, with biceps stretching the seams of his t-shirt. A pair of black sunglasses perched confidently on the bridge of his nose, adding an extra layer of allure to his presence.

You had absolutely no idea what he was saying. Although by the look of his furrowed eyebrows and tightened jaw, it was evident he was far from pleased. He removed his sunglasses, unveiling a pair of narrowed eyes.

Embarrassment tinged your cheeks as you stammered, “I’m so sorry!”

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of smallness. His eyes, which you presumed to be green, were veiled in fury, making it difficult to discern their true color, yet undeniable captivating in their intensity. 

“Tu parles Français?” Do you speak French? A sly grin stretched across his lips slowly, reveling in your bewilderment. “Stupide, stupide fille,” Stupid, stupid girl. he added, savoring the moment.

Gazing downward, you focused on your feet, idly brushing your hands across the bottom of your white sundress. The garment was short, adorned with a little tied bow between your breasts and flower details.

“I’m a bit lost.” You muttered. “Would you be able to help me find my place?”

“I ne sais pas,” I don’t know. He persisted in speaking French, despite knowing you couldn’t understand. It felt as if he aimed to humiliate you, to provoke a sense of frustration or anger deliberately.

“Évidemment, je peux. Fille stupide.” Of course, I can. Stupid girl. He was mocking you and you didn’t even know it.

You let out an exasperated groan and sidestepped to make way for him, muttering a small ‘nevermind.’ However, as you moved, he followed suit, intentionally blocking your path and halting your movement.

“You shouldn’t be wearing dresses so short,” his fingers gently toyed with the thin strap of your dress. “It’s a bit windy for them.”

You felt the goosebumps rise on your skin from his touch alone. You frowned, “So, you do speak English?”

“Oui, la plupart des gens le font.” Yes, most people do. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he continued speaking in French. While you acknowledged the need to learn the language, it felt like he was intentionally being cruel rather than helpful. “Are you in University?”

You nodded briskly, eager not to waste any time, especially since he finally seemed willing to be helpful.

“Most of the students live this way,” he mentioned, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he began to walk, essentially pulling you along with him. The touch of his skin against yours stirred butterflies in your stomach. Despite the fact he was insanely hot, you struggled to concentrate, almost forgetting the fact that he was behaving like a total asshole. 

He muttered French phrases to himself throughout the entire walk, small laughs escaping his lips while you remained clueless about what he was saying.

“Je veux te manger.” I want to eat you out.

“Tu t’habilles comme une salope.” You dress like a slut.

“Je vais te détruire.” I’m going to wreck you.

You weren’t sure what it was. Whether it was delusion from exhaustion or simply the undeniable sex appeal of the guy, the words, even though you didn’t understand them, strangely aroused you. 

Guiding you through the streets, he steered you into a lobby of a building that finally seemed familiar. “What number are you?” he inquired, referring to your apartment number. 

“Why would I give a stranger my apartment number?”

He scoffed, “I’m Charles. Not a stranger anymore. What’s the number?”

You didn’t give him the information because he convinced you that easily. It was more because he knew the area better than you. 

“0217? I think.” You replied, not entirely certain. The rush of your first day at university had left you with little time to settle in and memorize details. He didn’t seem to have much patience as he led you quickly up the stairwell and in front of a door with the numbers 0217 on it. You pulled out your key and unlocked the door, smiling as you finally pushed it open with success.

“Come in and have some water before you go,” You offered. It was the least you could do to express gratitude for his assistance. Your apartment was sparsely furnished, with only a mattress on the floor and several boxes scattered about.

“Sorry for the mess,” you bent over to pick up two water bottles from the case of water, your lace underwear with tiny hearts all over them peeking out for Charles view. He groaned loudly and unashamed.

Fatigue weighed heavily behind your eyes, but a persistent ache tugged at your stomach, insisting on the need to fulfill it.

“Mon dieu, j’ai besoin de t’avoir.” My god, I need to have you.

You rolled your eyes at the man as he said yet another sentence in French, handing him the water bottle. Rather than taking the water bottle from your hand, he grasped tightly onto your forearm and pulled you into him, the shock of his grasp causing you to drop the water bottle.

You felt your stomach tightening with need as his hands were on you once again. It was sick really. How this big of an asshole could turn you on so much.

“Rule number one, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your tight little pussy.” The scent of his cologne made your knees week. It was embarrassing. How quickly he was able to affect you. 

A soft gasp escaped your lips at his words, and your heart raced rapidly in response. He towered over your small frame, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at your flushed skin. A dead giveaway to how badly you were aching for him.

His hand swiftly pulled the strings of the dress, giving him full access to your breasts. He slipped his hand into it, pinching your nipple between his middle finger and thumb.

“On the bed.” His tone was demanding and authoritative, treating you like you were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Treating you like the slut that you were. “On your hands and knees.”

You rushed over to the bed, falling to your hands and knees, turning your head to look up at Charles behind you. Once he makes his way over, he grabs your hair and pulls you so your back is flushed to his chest, pulling your mouth to his. His tongue slips its way into your mouth, devouring you. The process is not entirely sexy. It’s urgent. Frantic. As if neither of you could have enough of one another.

He pulled away and spoke gruffly, as if he was angry with you. “Doesn’t even know a lick of French, stupide fille.” Stupid girl. He remarked, switching off between French and English.

Your dress was so short that he didn't even need to move it to see your panties. The dainty little hearts had him foaming at the mouth. So fucking cute.

“Fucking salope.” Slut. He pushes you back down, letting you fall back onto your hands as he pulled his pants down, freeing his cock.

You felt your mouth water at the sight. Just like him, his cock was beautiful. Perfectly smooth and dripping with pre-cum. You moaned as he pressed the head of his cock to your lace covered pussy, teasing you with it. You felt yourself growing needier, trying to push yourself onto his cock for more friction. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” He groaned, pulling your underwear to the side, and spitting directly onto your pussy. He did it as if he was spitting on the sidewalk, with no care and no respect, shoving two fingers into your heated center. He wasn’t gentle in the slightest. He was greedy, taking whatever he wanted from you. “Pathétique,” Pathetic. He sighs, shaking his head, "Such a cock slut."

Loud moans left your mouth as he stroked where you ached with his fingers before removing them and replacing them with his cock. 

“So fucking tight,” he hisses, his fingers grabbing onto the skin of your ass to add leverage as his continues to push deeper. To push harder. Your pussy squeezes him harder as he utters the words. “Tu aimes ça?” You like that? He muses on, “You like hearing what a tight pussy you have?”

“Dirty fucking slut.”

His hand reaches out and forces your head down onto the mattress, limiting your breathing. He’s completely unhinged. His hips relentlessly pounding into you. Fucking you like he’s mad at you. Fucking you like he hates you. With every thrust, a loud moan escapes your lips, echoing off the empty apartment walls.

“Come on my cock,” he demands. “Squeezing me like you’re going to come.” He states. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You feel yourself choking on your moans as it hits you. You’re now leaping over the edge of your orgasm. “That’s it,” he soothes, talking you through as you release all over his cock, but he doesn’t slow the roll of his hips into you. He pulls your face up from the mattress, his hand holding you up by the back of your neck. You’re completely limp, practically nothing but a toy for him to use. 

“Charles,” you’re yelling his name repeatedly.

At the sound of your voice yelling his name, he quickly pulls out and comes undone, releasing all over your backside. He collapses beside you, both of you trying to catch your breath. You both lie there, unmoving, just staring at each other.

“You should really learn French.” He laughs, a smug smile forming on his lips. You can’t help but laugh in response. 

“Maybe you can teach me?” 

“Peut être.” Maybe.

[prettyobsessed]

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 🪐༘Temptation Whispers Home 🍵‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⁺₊ / pairings: Xavier / fem!reader ✩ / genre: smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] ₊˚ / tags: nsfw, smut with plot, story plot smut, masturbation, mutual attraction, grinding, soft sex, slighty rough sex, cowgirl position, lots of teasing, fingering, lots of kisses, unprotected sex, mouth job, hand job, kissing, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, neck kink, nipple kink smut, spanking, facial cumshot, mature sexual content ☾ / word count: 6.6k

✧summary✧ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ Amidst the allure of Xavier's presence and the intoxicating atmosphere, the narrator grapples with their desire for intimacy and the uncertainty that shrouds their relationship. The scene pulses with tension and longing as they navigate the complexities of unspoken desires and emotional boundaries, hinting at a deeper connection waiting to be explored. ﹌﹌﹌

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me."

☄. *. ⋆ Standing before my wardrobe, indecision settled upon my shoulders like an unwelcome guest. Meeting Tara, my best friend, shouldn't have been so complicated, yet there I was, deliberating over my outfit for nearly half an hour.

The events of last Saturday lingered in my thoughts, seemingly crept up on me—the night Xavier and I went to the club and things got… dangerously flirty.

Facing the mirror, I examined myself wearing my pastel blue thong, a reminder of Xavier lingering in my mind. "Am I wearing this intentionally with him in mind?" I paused, questioning my motives. "Stop. I’m not even meeting him today. Why bother?" I murmured to myself, shaking off the distraction, but not wanting to change out of the thong.

I was jolted back to reality when my phone notification bell rang. Glancing up at the screen, I noticed today’s date: Monday, 5th February. 2:28pm. With a resigned sigh, I selected a grey mini skirt paired with a white off-shoulder top, its thin fabric ideal for the anticipated hot day. Gathering my hair into a bun, I applied a spritz of Bare Vanilla to my neck and wrists, relishing in the comforting scent of my current favourite fragrance. Slipping into my trusty black boots and grabbing my bag, I hurried out the door, ensuring I hadn’t left anything behind and securing the automated lock. Venturing further from my apartment, a nagging thought crept into my mind. "Did I forget something?" But with Tara waiting, I pushed the thought aside and continued on my way.

"Today was a blast! Thanks for showing me around,” Tara exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Let’s go out again next week! See ya!” she chirped, waving energetically as she walked away. "Bye, Tara!” I called out with a playful pout. After bidding her farewell, I set off on my journey home, only to be caught off guard by an unexpected downpour. In an instant, I was soaked through from head to toe.

Frantically rummaging through my bag, I realised my oversight. "Damn it, I forgot my umbrella," I muttered, feeling water seep into every crevice. Drenched from head to toe, I cursed my forgetfulness as the heavy rain continued to pour down. I sprinted towards my apartment, each step weighed down by the rain-soaked clothes clinging from my hair to my body. Finally reaching my doorstep, I encountered another setback. Attempting to use my keycard, the electronic lock flashed an ominous "System error. System error." 

Recalling the maintenance warning, I hadn't anticipated it causing such immediate inconvenience. Frustration bubbled up within me as I futilely tried my security passcode, only to be met with the same error message. Feeling the urgency, I contacted the security of the building regarding the issue. They reassured that the issue would be resolved with a reboot in approximately 2 hours. 

Two hours. What am I going to do? I can't even go anywhere in this heavy downpour.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm me, I heard the click of a door unlocking behind me. Turning, I saw Xavier, my neighbor and hunting partner, emerging from his apartment. He was clad in a cozy knit sweater, exuding warmth and an irresistible charm. "Ehem. Oh hi, Xavier," I greeted him, attempting to conceal my discomfort, yet pleasantly surprised and blushing at his appearance.

Xavier's expression shifted from surprise to concern as he observed my sodden appearance. Attempting to discreetly cover myself, the sheer fabric of my wet clothes left little to the imagination. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, moving closer and sensing my distress. With a sheepish smile, I explained the situation, gesturing helplessly at the malfunctioning lock and the relentless rain outside. Xavier's tense expression softened, replaced by empathy. "Ohh… hmm, would you like to come inside first?," Xavier offered, his voice warm with concern. "You need to dry off and warm up. I'll make us some tea."

Gratefully accepting his offer, I stepped into his cozy apartment with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. 

The warmth of the place enveloped me, dispelling the coldness of the rain-soaked evening. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, a mixture of concern and something more primal flickering in his eyes as he took in my drenched attire. His breath deepened, and he swallowed nervously. Quickly averting his eyes, his cheeks flushed slightly. I couldn't help but notice his expression. Was it because of that night? The memory of our encounter hung between us, adding an awkward tension to the air.

Sorry about the inconvenience," I mumbled, attempting to hide my soaked top with my hands, growing increasingly self-conscious. Xavier shook his head, offering a reassuring smile while guiding me further inside. "No need to apologise. I wouldn't want you catching a cold. Let me grab you a towel and some dry clothes," he said as his hand brushed mine for a split second before disappearing into another room.

His touch, feather-light against mine, sent a sudden chill coursing through me in response to this familiar connection. As I waited, I couldn't help but replay the memory of my (not so) drunken encounter with Xavier that night. The thought sent a shiver racing down my spine, kindling a slow, simmering heat within. When Xavier returned with a towel and a set of dry clothes, I accepted them gratefully, retreating to the bathroom to change. As I entered, I carefully place the dry clothes on the countertop.

Glancing into the mirror, I was startled to find myself drenched by the rain, the droplets clinging to my skin like shimmering diamonds. As I reached up to adjust my hair, I noticed the transparency of my top, revealing more than I intended. My heart raced as I realised the shape of my breasts was clearly outlined, a blush creeping up my cheeks at the thought that Xavier might have noticed it. A rush of embarrassment and arousal collided within me. Unable to resist the pull of memory, I tentatively traced the curve of my lips to my body, the touch reminiscent of Xavier's from that unforgettable night. His hands had possessed a magnetic power, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. ☄. *. ⋆ ﹌﹌﹌ Flashback

It was 1 am, and Xavier and I were still in the club. I remember vividly slow dancing to "Alone With You" by Alina Baraz. Xavier stood protectively in front of me, alert to any wandering eyes. "Something 'bout the look on your face, as you feelin’ a way, baby, I feel it too," I mouthed the lyrics to Xavier, my hands roaming over him, on his chest, on his neck—lost in the moment, and I noticed Xavier was smirking, looking at me, seeming to enjoy it. After spending countless hours partnering with Xavier in battle against the Wanderers, it became inevitable that I would begin to harbour feelings for him—admiring his sweetness, his mannerisms, his unwavering protectiveness, and God, that voice of his.

For months, I had been secretly listening to his voice notes, touching myself, feeling aroused by the softness of his tone. It's almost as if I am protected and safe just by listening to him.

I'm convinced that Xavier feels the same way because of all the signals he's been giving me, indicating his affection. However, despite this certainty, a hint of doubt lingers. It felt as if there was an undeniable distance—a boundary he was setting between us.

That night in the club, emboldened by alcohol’s courage, I found myself drawn closer to Xavier, scrutinising his features under the dim lights. His eyes gleamed like distant stars, captivating me with their allure. He was undeniably beautiful. As our gazes met, a mixture of confusion and intrigue danced in his eyes, shrouding him in an enigmatic aura I couldn't quite unravel.

I just want to kiss him so badly. Drawing tantalisingly close, I draped my arm over Xavier's neck as we swayed to the music, our bodies magnetically drawn together. His scent was nearly angelic, with perfume notes reminiscent of grapefruit and bergamot, further adding to his allure. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, intense and wanting, yet unable to voice his desires. Playfully, I nibbled on my lip, feeling the electric tension between us, sensing his arousal. Slyly, I guided his hands to my waist, silently granting permission as we moved to the slow rhythm.

Locked in a flirtatious exchange, I met his gaze, a silent invitation passing between us. Body to body, eye to eye, the tension was palpable. Positioning myself on my back, I purposefully initiated a sensual grind against him, daringly pushing the boundaries of the game. My fingers lingered close to his neck, and there, he reciprocated. Xavier was feeling me—his hands on my body as my hips ground against his clothed erection, causing it to grow harder.

The pulse of his arousal reverberated through me, igniting a fervent craving deep within my core. Both of us were lost in the moment, slowly moving to the rhythm of the music.

Turning my body back to him, I absorbed the expression etched on Xavier’s face. It was one I wished I could freeze forever. His endearing innocence, accentuated by a rosy blush, amplified the allure that made resisting him a futile endeavour. He exuded a captivating blend of bliss and longing, as if silently begging for more. Yet, despite his evident desire, Xavier exercised restraint. "Y/N, please," he implored softly. "You're drunk.”

With an insatiable longing, I took in every detail of his eyes, tracing the soft contours of his lips before locking eyes with him once more. "I'm not drunk...yet," I murmured softly, a breathless neediness creeping into my voice, as if daring him to push the boundaries further.

Should I take the leap and make the first move? Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the pull any longer. Just as I was about to lean in closer to him, he beat me to it. “Then, can I kiss you...? You look so pretty, I can't resist anymore,” he asked, his tone filled with neediness and helplessness. I knew it. I knew Xavier was into me, but hearing his verbal confession still caught me off guard, filling me with a heady mix of anticipation and delight. With a seductive curl of my lips into a grin, I wordlessly granted him my consent, sealing our mutual desire with a brief but intense kiss upon his lips. The giddy sensation from the kiss lingered, but Xavier's insistence on escorting me home carried a tender urgency, his need to ensure my safety blending seamlessly with the unspoken longing that hung between us.

Did Xavier really think I was that drunk? That I was unaware of my own actions? My heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty as I unlocked the door with my keycard and gently laid myself down on my bed. Xavier's presence beckoned irresistibly, and I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered with a mixture of desire and restraint, mirroring my own conflicting emotions. Craving his touch, I reached for his hand and pulled him down beside me, my fingers trembling with anticipation. We kissed again, our bodies gravitating closer, and his touch on my chin sent a rush of warmth coursing through me, banishing any doubts or hesitations I may have had.

"You have such soft skin," Xavier murmured, his fingers outlining my shoulders to my body. His words ignited a delicious tingle throughout me as we continued to share kisses. Feeling a surge of desire, I decided to intensify the intimacy. With a bold move, I rose from my seated position and straddled him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against me. As our bodies aligned, I began to move with a slow, tantalising rhythm, grinding against his clothed erection with increasing fervour. Each motion sent waves of pleasure coursing through us both, heightening the intensity of our connection. Xavier's hands explored every curve of my body, his touch adding fuel to the fire.

Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of lust, a lingering question nagged at my mind: What was holding him back? Was it fear, responsibility, or perhaps something else entirely? "You make me feel so safe," I whispered into his ear, my hands roaming over his body, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure with both our clothes still intact.

But just as the intensity peaked, Xavier abruptly halted our exchange, reminding me of the blurred lines in our current situation. He gently grasped both of my wrists, then cupped my cheek in a tender gesture. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. “We can't do this. You're drunk, Y/N.” His words were both a plea and an apology, his gaze filled with admiration yet tinged with sorrow. “My god, look at you,” he continued, his tone filled with longing. “So... so pretty like this. But no, I can't... we can't—not like this. I'm sorry.”

As Xavier's lips brushed against my forehead, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged through me, mingling with the warmth of his affectionate gesture. I felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, the lingering echo of our shared desire, and the ache of unfulfilled longing. With each heartbeat, I struggled to reconcile the tenderness of his kiss with the sudden emptiness left in his wake as he quietly slipped out the door, leaving me to grapple with the unresolved tension between us.

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as I found myself lost in a whirlwind of memories from the previous night. Each moment replayed in my mind with vivid clarity, revealing truths I hadn't fully grasped in the haze of last night. Amidst the tumult of my thoughts, a simple text message interrupted my reverie, stirring a mix of relief and anticipation within me. 'Hey, U up? how r u feeling?’ The words, though brief, carried a weight of concern and care that warmed my heart. However, amidst the exhaustion and emotional whirlwind of the night before, I succumbed to sleep before replying to Xavier. Flashback ends

﹌﹌﹌ ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

With a shaky exhale, I snapped back to reality and shifted my focus away from the mirror. Peeling off my damp clothes, I slipped into the garments Xavier had passed to me earlier—a cozy grey jumper, white sweatpants and a pair of fuzzy socks. They carried the fresh scent of recently laundered fabric, infused with the comforting aroma of rosy detergent.

Carefully, I hung my wet clothes on an empty rack and used the towel to pat my hair dry. Exiting the bathroom, I spotted Xavier seated on the couch, his eyes heavy with drowsiness. The sound of the bathroom door closing startled him, jolting him awake from the brink of sleep. Squinting against the room light, he offered a warm smile as I approached. "Hey, you're back," he greeted, stretching his arms out in a lazy stretch. I thanked Xavier for the clothes and socks, feeling a rush of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. In response, he gestured towards a steaming cup of honey milk tea he had prepared, knowing it was my favourite. Next to it were a variety of cupcakes from the bakery shop he had visited earlier. I smiled, touched by his effort to please my palate. 

Sitting beside him on the couch, the television hummed softly in the background — casting a soothing ambiance over the room. However, the silence between us grew palpable, prompting me to break the ice. Despite the flickering images on the television screen, neither of us spoke, lost in our own thoughts. "So, any good shows on TV lately?" I ventured, trying to ease the tension with a casual conversation.

Xavier shook his head, his gaze distant as he stared at the screen. Sensing his unease, I shifted closer, determined to bridge the gap between us. "Did you went out today?" I asked gently, hoping to draw him out of his reverie. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I went for a run, just trying to clear my head," he admitted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Concerned, I reached out to him, offering my support. "Do you need any help? I'm here for you," I reassured him, squeezing his hand comfortingly, at the same time taking a sip of the tea. As I reached out to comfort him, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in Xavier’s demeanour. Before I could dwell on the intensity of the moment, Xavier broached a topic that caught me off guard.

"Do you remember anything from last Saturday?" he asked suddenly, his tone hesitant.

Startled, I choked on my tea, the liquid spilling onto my shirt in an embarrassing display of clumsiness. "Shit. Umm. I-I don't remember... anything. At all. Um, what happened?" I stammered, my attempt to hide my discomfort only adding to the awkwardness of the moment.  As I fumbled to clean up the mess, a flurry of apologies spilled from my lips, each one a feeble attempt to distract from the truth lingering beneath the surface. In reality, I remembered everything from that night, every touch and detail etched into my memory with perfect clarity. Yet, despite this knowledge, I found myself unable to speak the truth, to acknowledge the undeniable connection that had formed between us. 

Was I denying my own feelings too, or simply afraid to confront them?

Xavier’s observation of my discomfort only added to my embarrassment, leaving me at a loss for words. 

"Sounds like a lie," he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his eyes twinkled with amusement. I headed to the kitchen to fetch more napkins. Sensing my unease, he too reached to grab for more and gently dabbed at the spilled tea on my shirt. I felt a sudden chill spread through my body, causing both my nipples to harden in response. A faint blush crept onto my cheeks as Xavier's gaze lingered on my reaction. Despite my attempts to conceal my arousal, the unspoken tension between us hung palpably in the air, underscored by the knowing smile tugged at the corners of Xavier’s lips.

Embarrassed, I deflected his words once more, particularly after he had already noticed my body's response to his touch. I turned back to check for any more spills on the couch, but I was stopped when Xavier enveloped me in a comforting hug from behind. I melted into his embrace, his warmth intoxicating as it seeped into mine. "I can't stop thinking about you ever since that night," Xavier confessed softly, his lips brushing against my ear. My heart raced at his words, a dangerous sweetness enveloping me in his proximity—a rush of desire mingled with uncertainty.

As Xavier opened up further, his words poured out in a rush of honesty. He confessed that he had been unable to sleep after sending me home that night, his thoughts consumed by visions of me. He admitted to finding solace only in fantasies of me, even resorting to pleasuring himself while imagining me in his arms. His confession sent a thrill through me, leaving me flushed and craving his touch even more.

"Every time I'm with you, it's like my heart skips a beat," he confessed, his voice heavy with desire and neediness. "I've wanted nothing more than to protect you, keep you safe, be by your side, and to make you happy. So I buried those feelings deep down because I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. But that night, I couldn't fight it anymore. You were so… irresistible. You’re like an addiction I can't shake off, and I don't want to. You drive me crazy in the best way possible, and I can't get enough of you."

As his embrace deepened, Xavier tenderly nuzzled his nose against my neck before trailing his lips to my collarbone.

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me," he continued, a slight laugh in his voice, his arms wrapping tightly around my body as he whispered into my ear. “I find myself craving your presence, your touch, and those mesmerising eyes of yours... I just can’t get you off my mind. I just wanna know if you feel the same way too.”

Feeling unable to hold back any longer, I bare my feelings for him, summoning the courage to confess how I couldn’t resist touching myself to his voice notes every night. I found myself lost in their soothing cadence, a mixture of comfort and arousal intertwining in my mind. But it's not just his voice that ensnares me; it's the tenderness and kindness he exudes, weaving a tapestry of longing and connection that I find impossible to evade.

I felt the atmosphere shift, the tension palpable between us.

Xavier’s voice caught, his tone laced with surprise. “Every night? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have offered more than just… voice notes,” he said. His smile turned playful, revealing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. I playfully nudged his arm, attempting to escape his embrace, but he only tightened his hold, and I could feel his erection growing bigger.

His refusal to release his embrace made my body quiver in anticipation. His hands explored my curves, silently pleading for more as I pressed closer against him. Pausing before speaking again, he exhaled with longing. “Do you want me to continue? Please, please say yes,' he pleaded, his lips grazing my neck before tenderly moving to my cheeks.

Yes. A million times yes. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Are you kidding me?

With a nod of approval and verbally expressing my consent, I closed my eyes, surrendering to his touch. His hands cupped my breasts, easing away the tension with each caress. I savoured his scent mingling with mine as he moaned softly, his fingers finding their way to tease and tantalise my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. Gradually, his hands ventured beneath my shirt, firmly squeezing and grabbing my bare breasts and skin, eliciting an ecstatic moan from me in response. Moved by the urge to reciprocate and heighten Xavier’s pleasure, my hands reached toward his arousal, gently palming his hardness through the fabric of his pants. I slowly ground my ass against his firm erection, deliberately driving him wild. With slow, deliberate movements, I began to rub and stroke him, intent on bringing him the same pleasure he was offering me. As I explored his size, he felt long and slender beneath my touch—leaving my core suddenly feeling empty and wet.

As Xavier's lips pressed tender kisses onto my shoulder, a gentle sigh escaped my lips as he brushed against the subtle fragrance of my Bare Vanilla perfume, very faint, nestled just below my ear. He paused, inhaling deeply, his expression transforming into one of unmistakable pleasure. "I love this scent on you," he whispered, his voice saturated with desire.

“Can't wait to taste you,” he continued, his tone low and dark, brimming with longing and need. Xavier’s movements became more fervent, accompanied by soft moans escaping his lips. In response, his hands found their way to slip into my pants and gently circle my clothed clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of pleasure coursing through my body. With his other arm, he pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed tightly together. I melted into his touch, arching my back and resting my head on his shoulder, silently conveying my pleasure. His lips continued their exploration, trailing kisses along my neck and intensifying their attention on my shoulders. With a gentle yet decisive movement, Xavier turned me by my waist, now facing him. Our bodies were so close that I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach.

He then showered my neck with more kisses, his hands finding their way to grip my ass and lightly tap it. In response, I teasingly traced my fingers under his shirt, returning his kisses with passion. I love the way Xavier is making me feel. Unable to resist any longer, I halted our playfulness and took his hand, leading him to the living room where we settled onto the couch. With tender care, I nestled onto his lap, sinking into the plush cushions as we enveloped each other in a warm embrace.

As our kisses deepened, Xavier's touch grew insatiable, his fingers eagerly exploring every curve of my body as I straddled him. Each caress heightened my awareness of his growing arousal, fuelling my desire for him to be even more aroused. Yielding to my playful instincts, I decided to tease him further by rising from his lap and treating him to a seductive strip tease. With deliberate grace, I peeled away my shirt and pants, revealing myself in nothing but socks and a pastel blue lace thong, the anticipation hanging thick in the air between us.

"My favourite panties. Mmm," he murmured, his breath deepening as he swallowed, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of the thong, causing the elastic band to snap against my skin. Recollections of our initial meetings flooded my mind, vividly reminding me of the moments when his gaze lingered upon me, captivated by the sight of those particular panties. It was during one such encounter, as I leaned down to retrieve a plushie that had slipped from my grasp, that his eyes seemed unable to stray from the enticing sight. "Thank the lucky stars I have a sixth sense," I replied with a playful twinkle in my eye, savouring the anticipation building between us. He persisted in teasing and pleasuring me, eliciting gasps of desire from my lips as I yearned for more. 

I caught Xavier’s lips curling slightly at my words, a sight that filled with delight at his unbridled desire. The way he looked at me, all heated and giddy, added fuel to the fire of my own arousal. As I stood there, basking in his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through me, heightened by the contrast of the cool air against my exposed skin, mingling with the warmth radiating from our entwined bodies.

Xavier pulled me back onto his lap, his hands enveloping mine as he peppered soft kisses upon my palm. Moving with a tender yet urgent desire, his lips trailed from my hand to my nipples, where he sucked gently. Meanwhile, his hands eagerly gripped my ass, pulling me closer to him, eliciting a soft moan from me as I watched his lewd act unfold before me. He gasped for air after his arousing exploration of my nipples, feeling his breath hot against my skin. Cupping his face in my hands, I showered him with soft, lingering kisses, starting from his rosy cheeks, then trailing a path to his inviting lips, his cute nose, and finally, his smooth forehead. In response, he reciprocated within seconds, returning my kisses with equal passion which made me giggle due to the ticklish sensation.

My fingers then glide through his beautiful hair, allowing myself to revel in the moment. The warmth of Xavier's embrace enveloping me in a sense of security and passion. As my hands trailed down to his chest, I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. With a playful glint in my eyes, I deliberately circled my hips, relishing in the pleasure as I teased his arousal through the fabric of his pants with each subtle movement.

Xavier’s hungry eyes devoured my naked body, each glance feeling like a caress. Suddenly, his hand came down on my ass with a sharp spank, a playful punishment for my naughtiness. I gasped in surprise, but the thrill of his touch only made my core throb with anticipation.

There’s something so sexy in being the one who’s stripped down to just panties and socks, while being locked in a heated embrace with a fully clothed man.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he moaned, his eyes growing darker, indicating his eagerness to do more than just kiss and spank me tonight. “You don’t have to listen to my voice notes anymore,” he continued, murmuring huskily with his hands gripping my ass as he held me close. “I can talk you through it anytime you want…from now onwards, every night.” Xavier’s gaze locked with mine.

His words made me blush even more, the heat rising in my cheeks, intensifying my need for him. Xavier offering to talk me through my orgasms? Like? Holy fuck. The mere thought made my mind dance with tantalizing fantasies and wander to all sorts of delicious scenarios, stirring a wild craving that pulsed through every inch of my being, leaving me squirming with anticipation.

“Oh really? You sure you won’t be tired?” I teased, leaning in closer and playfully biting his lower lip, a flirty glint in my eyes as I recalled his tendency to doze off during the day. “For you, I’ll stay awake all night,” he replied, his tone brimming with determination and desire. His hands reached for mine, kissing it tenderly, his expression filled with an ardent longing. I never imagined Xavier could be so utterly infatuated with me. His shy demeanour was nowhere to be found. It's surprising how unabashedly sexy he sounds. Yearning to taste him, my heart raced with anticipation as I gracefully rose from his lap, positioning myself on the ground before him —in a low kneel position. 

Looking into Xavier’s eyes, I began to explore his thighs, running my hands over the fabric of his pants until I reached his undeniable arousal. Slowly, I pulled down his pants slightly, revealing his full glory beneath. His erection stood proudly, a glistening bead of precum at its tip. 

I moaned at the sight of his long and slender erection in my hands, wondering if I could take it all inside me.

As I leaned in closer, I moistened my lips, preparing to take him into my mouth. With a gentle touch, I traced circles along his shaft, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. A low groan escaped his lips, spurring me on. With a deliberate motion, I applied a slick of saliva, ensuring smooth entry as I enveloped Xavier in warmth. Our eyes locked onto each other, maintaining unbroken contact, heightening the intensity between us.

He reached out, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding it in place to make it easier for me to pleasure him with my tongue.

The taste of him was intoxicating, his musky scent filling my senses as I savoured each lick and tease. Despite the difficulty of accommodating his sizeable erection in my mouth because of its length, I persisted. With every moan that escaped his lips, I felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that my efforts were driving him wild. The sound of my gagging only added to the intensity of the moment, sending vibrations of pleasure humming through my throat.

“Yes…just like that. You’re doing so good” Xavier cooed, his moans like music to my ears. He lets me have my way with him, without any resistance or coercion, which only fuels my desire to engage in even more naughty, sinful acts with him.

Deciding to delay climaxing for the moment, Xavier withdraws his erection from my mouth and gently lifts me from my position. With care, he settles me back onto the couch, lying me down on it with tenderness. He shifts my leg, positioning it between his body and mine. As my legs find their place between us, he pauses to admire my beauty, playfully pinching my nipples and tracing kisses along my skin. My body shudders in response to his touch, aching for more with each caress. Xavier then firmly grasps my thighs and gently pushes them down, exposing me completely to his gaze. With my legs draped over my stomach, he continues to explore my body with his hands, his fingers eventually finding their way to my clit, concealed just enough beneath my pastel blue thong.

His voice carries a smooth sweetness, almost velvety—wrapping around me with a seductive undertone as he posed his question. “How long have you been fantasising about me?” his words hung between us, punctuated by soft kisses planted on my thighs before he continued. His relentless teasing drove me to the brink of madness. My throbbing clit yearned for the exquisite touch of his tongue, yet he tantalisingly denied me, his lips lingering maddeningly close but only grazing my trembling thighs, making my clit throb more.

"Ever since I first saw you!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with a hint of moan. Xavier's grin widened, his pride evident as he heard my response. "That night in the club, you were teasing me so hard and grinding on me," he continued, his tone playful yet curious. "Were you intentionally trying to arouse me, or was it simply the influence of alcohol?" Xavier asked again, his gaze searching for the truth as he peppered kisses near my core, teasingly close, tempting me with his seductive proximity.

"I only had two shots of tequila. I just couldn’t resist teasing you," I confessed, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "You looked so good in that lighting, and I couldn’t help it. I got so horny just thinking about how it would feel to have that dick inside me," I added, feeling a rush of excitement at his attention, my tone teasing and flirtatious.

Xavier moaned in response to my confession, visibly pleased, his hand stroking his erection as he became aroused. He gave a sudden, firm lick against the fabric of my thong, where my clit was hidden, drawing a whimper from me in anticipation. In one swift motion, he grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls them away from me, leaving me exposed to his eager gaze. With unwavering focus, he directed all of his attention to my clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from me. He lavished it with his tongue as though it were his favourite dessert. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, far more intense than anything I could achieve alone, and I couldn't help but moan with pleasure at every lick. 

His hands gripped firmly on both my thighs, pushing them down to spread my folds even more, exposing my bare clit to his eager mouth. Xavier's expert attention had me writhing with desire, every touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I was soaked to the core, and Xavier showed no signs of stopping. His tongue danced over my folds at a rapid pace, driving me wild with each flick. The sensation was so intense that my hands instinctively ran through his hair.

When he fucked my clit repeatedly with his tongue, it sent me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but cum hard, my body shaking with pleasure as my pussy clenched in response. As I trembled from the intense climax, Xavier lifted his head, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "I wanna feel you," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust, each word sending a jolt of excitement through me.

Xavier's demeanour caught me off guard. Despite his angelic appearance, it was clear that he possessed a dark side, prompting me to reassess just how innocent he really was. While I adored both aspects of him, his freaky side held a particularly irresistible allure that turned me on. I push Xavier's face away from my clit, commanding him to get back to his seated position on the couch. The act of asserting control over him seems to intensify his arousal.

With an intense hunger in my core reserved solely for his manhood, I rise to straddle him once more—my favourite position. Perched on his lap, I ensure his throbbing erection aligns perfectly with my clit. With a teasing bounce, I let my breasts jiggle, tempting him further. "Your wish is my command, sir," I whisper, biting my lip, relishing the anticipation of being in control. I coat his shaft with my saliva several times, ensuring it's slick and ready for our pleasure. Each application of saliva is deliberate, my movements slow and teasing as I take my time to ensure he's adequately lubricated for what I have planned next.

His hands and fingers delicately traced the bottom of my feet, moving up to my legs, ensuring I felt stabilised and secure. His protective touch made my head swim with giddiness and my body ache with desire once again.

Deliberately, I glide Xavier's erection against my clit, relishing the pleasure that courses through both of us, evident in his uncontrollable moans. "You feel so good, yeah just like that… don't stop," Xavier gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. It was as if every nerve in his body had been set alight, flooding him with an intense wave of pleasure that left him breathless. The lewdness of my actions only serves to heighten my arousal, matching his fervour. As if guiding him into my pussy, I instead tease his erection with just the outer folds of my clit, luxuriating in the sensation. Xavier responds with lust-filled moans, his hands exploring my body with eager anticipation.I particularly enjoy the sensation of his thumb and index finger pinching my nipples, and I can't resist sucking on his fingers for added pleasure.

Continuing to tease him, I grind on his erection until I'm dripping wet and unable to hold back any longer. The desperate need to feel him inside me consumes me. Finally, I coat my hands with saliva once more before slowly guiding his dick inside me. The initial stretch is overwhelming, his lengthy and slender shaft momentarily causing concern, but soon I find myself accommodating him comfortably. As he fills me, a moan of relief and pleasure escapes my lips, echoing Xavier's own moans of satisfaction.

He praises me for taking all of him, his words stirring a sense of pride and determination within me, fuelling my desire to please him even more. Starting with a slow grind, I gradually increase the pace, bouncing fervently on his cock. The sensation of him filling me up completely ignites a primal need within me, urging me to move faster. With each thrust, I clench my pussy around him, feeling it throb with anticipation, aching for more of him. Xavier takes notice of my escalating desire and grips my ass firmly, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The sharp spanks he delivers heighten my neediness, each one adding a delicious sting to the pleasure coursing through me.

Feeling my fatigue from the vigorous motion, Xavier takes initiative and shifts our rhythm, thrusting into me instead. Xavier's eyes burn with desire as he pins my arms behind my back, his strength and dominance amplifying the intensity of our encounter. With each forceful thrust, he plunges deep into my throbbing pussy, driving me relentlessly towards the brink of ecstasy.

As his pace quickens, tears of pleasure well up in my eyes. 'You're doing so good, taking it in like that." I wriggled free from his grasp and instead placed my hands on his chest, using them to stabilise myself as I adjusted my position. With a subtle shift, I angled myself better, allowing me to bounce on him even more. "I can't hold back anymore, I’m going to cum,' Xavier exclaims. Just before he reaches climax, I release myself from his grip, dropping to my knees, eager for him to cover my mouth and face with his release. He then releases onto my face and tongue, his cum pouring over me in abundance.

I let him cover my face and tongue until there's no more left. With a hint of lingering desire, I decide to prolong his orgasm, swallowing his cum while gently licking his tip. It seems Xavier is overwhelmed by the sensation, almost on the verge of passing out.

"Fuck," he moans explicitly. Despite his satisfaction, he expresses a hint of apology, explaining that he didn’t want to soil my face. I offer a reassuring smile, assuring him that it's alright and that I love it. His eyes soften with gratitude, and a warm sigh escapes him, relieved by my understanding. Gently, I savour some of his warmth from my skin, the sensation still intense and lingering. Rushing to fetch a towel, Xavier wipes my face clean, his touch tender and apologetic, yet filled with care and affection. He quickly moves to support me, wrapping his arms around my waist tenderly. Pressing gentle kisses to my shoulder, he murmurs soothing words of reassurance as he catches his breath. Laying me back onto the couch, he ensures that I’m comfortable and relaxed, his concern for my well-being evident in every gesture. I invite him to join me, and as he settles beside me, I gently stroke his hair and offer him a warm embrace.

Xavier momentarily detaches, his footsteps echoing lightly against the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen, a subtle spring in his step betraying the renewed energy coursing through him. As he returned with a tray of refreshments, a playful glint danced in his eyes, his grin infectious.

"You seem like you've been fully recharged," I remarked, a teasing lilt to my voice as I admired his refreshed appearance. "Did I unknowingly stumble upon the secret to your energy?" Xavier chuckled, setting the tray down with a gentle clink of glasses. "Perhaps you have," he teased in return, his tone tinged with flirtatiousness. "Your place next?" The playful banter between us filled the room, infusing our embrace with an even deeper sense of closeness and intimacy as we basked in the afterglow of our shared passion. As we snuggle once again, this time much closer, Xavier reminds me of how cherished and loved I am, reaffirming our deep connection and the intimacy we share. Throughout the aftercare, his focus remains entirely on me, ensuring my well-being and emotional comfort are prioritised above all else.

—By prettyobsessed. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🧸🐇୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀🧷 P.S: It’s my very first time writing smut! What do you think? xx

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭

—

this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

[raythekiller]

Can We have a Creepypasta Reader who gets hurt and how Creepypasta males & Female’s react please? Make sure to eat and drink some water (●’◡’●)ﾉ

🗒 ❛ Reader Gets Hurt ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Clockwork, Nina The Killer, Kate The Chaser, Jane The Killer

#Notes: this is the most people I've ever written for holy shit

pronouns used: they/them

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

One of the only moments he shows genuine concern about you, even if in his own twisted or weird way. Focuses more on finding out how you got hurt than trying to help, absolutely ready to murder someone in case they were the one to injure you. There's just an anger in his voice and expression that is difficult to shake off. Will bring you to EJ and tell him "You fucking better take good care of them," in a low and menacing voice. Calls you an idiot and tells you to be more careful after, and although he sounds mad, the way he ruffles your hair affectionately says different.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Honestly, thinks you're kidding at first and laughs at it. When he notices you're actually, genuinely hurt, he panics. He died a long time ago, so now he doesn't have a good understanding of what's fatal for a human and what isn't, so he might honest to god consider the fact you might die even if it's a minor scratch. Will try to patch up the wound, failing miserably and just bringing you to EJ instead. Probably hugs you after, more so to bring comfort to himself rather than to you. He just got scared for a second, okay?

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He can't feel pain, so he doesn't have a good understanding of how much something might hurt. He just assumes the slightest of wounds must hurt like hell for normal people, so he's immediately freaking out, asking you if you're okay. He actually knows basic first aid, since it's one of the musts for being a proxy, but doesn't trust himself to not hurt you further by accident, so he's another one who'll rush you to EJ. Will be super clingy with you after, mumbling about how glad he is that you're okay.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

As a previous med student, his first concern is making sure you're physically okay. Focusing on that helps him calm down his nerves, since he's honestly panicking a little. Will patch you up in complete silence, to the point where it's a bit awkward, only to whisper a low "What happened to you?" once he's done, almost like he's scared of the answer you might have. Hugs you gently after you explain, careful as to not touch the wound, letting out a relieved sigh.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Similar to Jeff, his mind will immediately jump to the thought that someone deliberately hurt you, which makes his blood boil. Will be very loud and aggressive when asking what happened, making your breath hitch at the sudden protectiveness he doesn't normally show. Let's out a sigh once you explain it was an accident, calling you stupid before going to grab something so he can fix you up, his hands surprisingly gentle. It's a shockingly tender moment.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Gets worried, but not as much as the others. He's not one to think the worst about a situation, so he just concludes you probably tripped and fell or something, so he doesn't really question you any further. It's up to you if you tell him what happened or not. He's always gentle when handling you, but now you find his touch almost ghost-like as he fixes you up, then asking if you feel any better or would like to see EJ for a better inspection. A forehead kiss after he's done in definitely in order.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Clockwork

Doesn't even try to hide it, she's freaking out. Will grab your wound to take a closer look as she frantically asks "What happened? What did you do? Did someone do this? Does it hurt?", her mind is just racing and she doesn't know what to make of the situation. Terrible at patching you up, but does it anyway, she's not letting anyone else go near you when you're hurt and vulnerable. Kisses your cheek once she's done and tells you to be more careful.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Nina The Killer

Her face is literally split open, I don't think she'd be too worried about some minor injury. Just kind of coos at you something along the lines of "Aww, baby got hurt?" and offers to kiss it better. You'll have to tell her if it genuinely hurts, or else she's not going to take it too seriously. Like most of the others, will take you to EJ if you're actually in pain, sitting besides you and stroking your back and hair gently the entire time.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Kate The Chaser

Doesn't express much of a reaction, either. That doesn't mean she isn't concerned, she just can't express her emotions properly. Will calmly inspect the injury and, if it's out of her first aid abilities, will bring you to EJ. It's the most vocal anyone's ever seen her, asking him if it's too serious and if you're going to be okay. Holds your hand gently as he patches you up, caressing the back of your hand with her thumb.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jane The Killer

Behaves like a mom. Will coo at you lightly while going "Oh, your poor thing. Come here", taking a hold of your wound and gently cleaning and addressing it, to the point you can barely feel her touch on your skin. Once she's done, she kisses your forehead softly, her black lipstick leaving a mark on your skin.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature — a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✿ 2.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✿ Fluff, mention of alcohol

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✿ My very first grumpy x sunshine fic, and it was hella fun! a huge thank you to all those who listened to me deliberate what the hell to do with it! ✿ A huge thank you to @mxaether for the fact checking and guidance - you were a huge help!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✿ Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✿ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — Tattoo AU — Masterlist

𝐈𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The anniversary of 107th Ink was always going to be special, and this one perhaps was one of the biggest years – seven whole years since both Bucky and Stevie had walked through those doors with a dream, a dream that had flourished and blown up with their combined talents and charisma. 

In order to celebrate, 107th Ink had announced a surprise flash day. And, as anyone would have expected from the fastest growing tattoo parlour in the area, it was chaos – actually, chaotic was an understatement, and for this very reason, you had parked your car a block away from Bucky’s shop with a box of donuts in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. 

You would be a sight for sore, tired eyes, that was for sure.

Bucky’s Harley was parked on the verge, the shining red paint and reflective chrome shone in the light of the setting sun. The many rides you had taken with Bucky on that very bike came to the forefront of your mind, and you smiled fondly at the memories; the time he had taken you down the back roads for a picnic after you had finally convinced him to put his machine down, or that time that he took you down the highway, resting his hand on yours that had looped tightly around his middle. 

You and Bucky had been friends for years – he was certainly by far the gruffest and honest to god most intimidating man you had ever met, but somehow, he softened around you. Ever since Natasha had introduced you to him, you had felt an instant connection to the infamous brooding vet, and it left the two of you on a path you had no idea how to navigate. It was becoming difficult to ignore the butterflies that crowded your entire being when he flashed you a rare smile, or called you his Sunshine. 

But that was a thought for another day – Bucky needed his Jacks and Stevie would need his donuts, not to mention Nat and Peter squirrelling away what they could of either offering.

And, after your own intense and exhausting day with work and clients, you had to admit, it would be nice to see your friends. 

The door to the shop swung open with a clink of the bell, and you took in the scene. Bucky’s interior design choices screamed Rock’n’Roll with guitars lining the walls, all in various states of artistic liberty of designs and signatures. Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me played quietly over the hustle and bustle, a constant background noise amongst the many conversations held between artists and clients you could only just hear. Soft lighting illuminated the entry and reception where black leather couches were placed cosily – no clients were lazing about so you suspected they were all in the booths. The shining tiled floor reflected the reds of the walls and the mahogany oak accents like it was freshly polished. 

Bucky’s standards of professionalism and cleanliness were high, and hell hath no fury for anyone that compromised them. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” A bright voice called from an open door – Peter’s booth, and you looked over to see the aforementioned excited apprentice poking his head out. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes-” You stifled a laugh, smiling instead. “Bucky is just over there,” Peter said, gesturing towards a closed door. “He’ll be out soon, nervous client.”

“Thanks, Pete,” you said, and he grinned at you and the donuts in your hand before disappearing back into the booth. 

As expected, time passed slowly and you watched while a couple of clients milled out of the booths – Stevie’s, Nat’s and Peter’s. You caught sight of Stevie and Nat occasionally, and they spared you an excited wave or smile when they could – their gazes drifting to the treats you had brought with you. 

The sun had set by the time Bucky’s booth had any sign of movement. His door opened and a timid young woman appeared in the doorway – she was speaking over her shoulder and once she glanced towards the couches, you gave her a soft smile and she walked past you to Peter at the front desk to pay.

Peter greeted her happily and began the process of the transaction, but heavy boot falls in the booth made your gaze snap towards the source, smiling wide at finding Bucky leaning against the frame, arms crossed so his tattoos rippled and moved with the corded muscle. He was staring at you with a blank expression, null and void of any tells, though there was a glimmer of happiness in his eyes that filled your heart and fuelled the butterflies to a dull roar. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, you!” You rushed, getting to your feet just as the young woman left the shop. As soon as she was out the door, there was a collective exhale of breath in relief. “Tough day?”

“What gave it away, Sunny?” Steve groaned as he stood in the doorway of his own booth, rubbing his face and mussing his hair and neatly trimmed beard. “It seemed that flash day means all the tough clients come outta the woods at once.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nat piped up, stretching to the ceiling and cracking her back. The burgundy leather jacket she wore gleamed in the low light while it complemented her creeping neck tattoos. “I had all the sweet ones then.”

“Yeah, because you intimidate the shit out of ‘em, Nat,” Bucky said, a brow raised in challenge. Nat only shrugged, a coy grin on her blood red lips. 

“Today was fun though,” Peter yawned, and you watched as Bucky and Steve rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Trust the apprentice to be all rainbows and shit,” Bucky mumbled. “Let’s close up for the night. I wanna go home.”

Everyone left the reception in favour of returning to their booths, and you followed behind Bucky, bottle of Jacks in hand. The donuts lay on the table amongst the neatly stacked portfolios for later – that’s if Steve and Nat didn’t run off with them before you could walk out the door. 

“How are you feeling, Buck?” You asked, watching as he flexed his left arm and clenched his hand in a fist before releasing it with a wince. “Are you alright?”

Bucky looked over at you and nodded once. “‘M fine, sweetheart,” he said softly while he cleaned up the tray of ink caps and the rest of his station. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” you said, maybe a little too quick, because Bucky’s gaze snapped up and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m being honest-”

Slowly, Bucky stepped around from his cart and came to stand right in front of you, his gaze heavy with that critical eye and his habit for problem solving. “No, you’re not, Sunshine.”

Damn it, you cursed in your head, and it must have traitorously flickered across your expression because Bucky hesitated only slightly before his arms suddenly enveloped you and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement forced a quiet, “oof!” from your lips before you could bite it back – though the feeling of him holding you, as rare as it was, was never unwelcome. 

“I know you like hugs, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his voice just a low rumble in his chest. “Jus’ lemme hold you for a minute, alright?”

Your heart seized and tears burned in the corner of your eyes at his words. Bucky held you so tightly and you were forced to loop your arms around his middle while you rested your cheek on his shoulder – it was indescribable. 

Touch was not something Bucky gave freely – sure, it was his job to touch and manipulate and move clients, but it never meant anything more than him just doing his job. He never initiated a hug to Nat, Steve, or even Peter, it was something entirely off the table for him, though here he was, pushing past what he would normally be comfortable with and initiating such a tender embrace to you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you mumbled. Bucky squeezed you tight for just a second in reply, and when he relaxed his hold, the vice in your chest had lessened significantly.

“Jus’ wanna take care of my girl, ‘s all,” Bucky said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear, but you stiffened. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky hastened, his voice suddenly sharp and he pulled away, leaving you standing by the chair, dumbfounded and in shock. “Forget I said anything, let’s get outta here, huh?”

“No, no wait,” you rushed forward, grabbing his arm while you felt your eyes shine with tears – from what: fear, shock, or happiness, you couldn’t tell. “What did you say?”

A long stretch of silence passed before Bucky met your pleading gaze, but he was frowning slightly, as if he was considering every outcome in the blink of an eye. It was unbearable, and you shook his arm slightly, ignoring the way the muscles didn’t budge under your grip. 

“I said I wanted to take care of my girl.”

The tension cracked and split like a whip had cleaved through it, and a heavy breath left your lips. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding stiffly. 

“Are you-” You tried, but stopped. The sudden dryness in your mouth made it difficult to form the words. “Are you saying… what I think you’re saying?”

Bucky held your stare. “Yes.”

“Oh, my god,” you rushed, and you slammed into his chest to wrap your arms around his middle again – this time he was the one that let out a surprised “oof!” before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“Took you fuckin’ long enough!” Steve cried suddenly and you whirled around. Somehow, while engrossed in your panicked train of thought, and Bucky being stuck in his own version of panicking, Steve and Nat had quietly opened the door to eavesdrop. “Nat, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Dammit,” Nat grumbled before her heels clicked on the floor, the sound muffling the further she walked away. 

The fact that they had placed bets on this didn’t leave you feeling surprised in the slightest, if you were honest – Nat had known something was up, naturally, and she made it a point to stare expectantly whenever you would become flustered by literally anything Bucky did: paying special attention to you, calling you Sunshine, or how he was fiercely protective of you, all of which you found out when you went out to coffee with her. She had snorted and laughed at the obviously hilarious expression of shock upon finding any of that out – you had thought you were subtle, dammit.

Stevie, well, he was Bucky’s best friend – you can only hide so much from the person you were with most, if not all of the working day. It also didn’t help Stevie was a nosy sonofabitch on the best of days. “Can’t make a plan without all the variables, Sunny,” Stevie would say smugly whenever you questioned him, a proud, knowing smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You glanced up at Bucky to see him burning holes through the door to the back of his friends as they made a hasty retreat – there was no way he was clued in on that little game. 

“Hey, guys, wait up!” Peter yelled as the bell sounded, followed by his rushed footsteps. “See you tomorrow, Boss!” Bucky didn’t reply as the door closed behind Peter and the shop was silent again – just the two of you. 

The slight furrow in his brow and the pensive frown on his lips made your hands grow clammy with nervous sweat; you couldn’t tell what Bucky was thinking, and it was infuriating. 

Minutes stretched by, or seconds, you couldn’t tell – you were trapped in his gaze, lost in the thoughts racing through your mind, did he truly mean what he said?

You startled slightly when Bucky’s hand suddenly cupped your cheek, not having seen him move his arm. “So,” he said slowly. The softening of his eyes made your heart flutter – this was your Bucky, a gentle, soft soul that looked out for you. 

“Bucky?” You whispered. Bucky only hummed quietly, moving his hands to hold both of yours, the cold bite of his rings caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What d’you say, Sunshine?” Bucky asked, still slow and thoughtful, like he was weighing every word. The tension grew to be unbearable and it was all you could do to keep your breathing even, you wished his intense gaze would waver, or he would look away – just for a damned second.

You licked your lips, shuffling your feet on the spot. “That depends on what you’re as-”

“Be my girl?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped, ceasing its pounding rhythm for a millisecond before kick-starting thunderously. Sure, he had called you his girl more than once, but hearing him ask if you would be? You prayed to whoever would listen above that you would survive this, for you were floating on cloud nine and you did not want to come back down. 

“I-I,” you stumbled, growing even more flustered at the glint in his eyes – you couldn’t tell what he was feeling but you felt pinned, in the best possible way. “Yeah, yeah I want to be your Sunshine, Buck-”

Your stomach swooped at the sudden and entirely unexpected feeling of his lips on yours, and his hands – god, his hands, one moved to hold the side of your throat, the other cupped your face. He set the pace easily and you eagerly followed, you had been craving this for so long that it was almost unbelievable. 

To make doubly sure you weren’t dreaming, more than the desire to touch him, you ran your hands up his arms to rest them on his broad shoulders and you felt him smile into the kiss. “It’s real, sweetheart, ‘m here,” Bucky said against your lips, and you sighed happily. 

The warm smile Bucky gave you as he pulled away made you miss his touch, even though he had only taken a single step away. “I’ll finish cleanin’ up and then we can get outta here, we have a lot to celebrate, Sunshine, don’t we?”

The butterflies in your stomach became a frenzy at his words, and you nodded shyly. “They’re going to lose their minds, aren’t they?” You mused, sitting on the rolling stool while you waited for him to finish up. “Nat and the guys, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, zipping up his case. “Yeah, they will, the bastards. Bettin’ on their fuckin’ boss, I oughta fire all of ‘em.” You laughed heartily and Bucky smirked. 

Once Bucky’s station had been tidied and cleaned for the next day, he reached a hand out and you accepted it happily. “Let’s get outta here, I gotta treat my girl to a nice night, huh?”

“Only if we take your bike,” you said, squeezing Bucky’s hand and he looked over at you curiously. “I want to fly.”

Bucky only chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[san8ny]

"BABY, YOU MAD?"

Warnings: Slight angst (Yall fought, aw..), Toothaching fluff, juustttttt above the cut touchiness at the end to makeup, yeah?

“Shit..”

As Ellie returned from her teaching gig at the activity center, the air between you two carried the faint residue of a morning disagreement that lingered, unspoken yet palpable. The weight of unsaid words hung in the atmosphere, casting a shadow over the usual warmth that enveloped your shared space.

Dropping her bag with a soft thud, Ellie cautiously ventured into the silence, her subtle inquiries about dinner met with deliberate disregard. The air crackled with unspoken tension as they navigated around each other, each movement and word laden with the weight of the morning's unaddressed conflict.

The space between them grew, an invisible barrier erected by unspoken hurt. Ellie's attempts at casual conversation echoed in the quiet room, met with a wall of silence from the other side. She busied herself with the evening tasks, the clinks of cutlery and papers a feeble attempt to bridge the gap, yet only accentuating the growing distance.

Their once-shared routines now felt disjointed, each gesture a reminder of the unresolved rift. Ellie's attempts to reconnect were met with a silent resistance that stretched the divide between them. In the midst of the mundane, an unspoken ache lingered—a silent plea for reconciliation, trapped within the heavy silence of their home.

Fuck

As the hours trickled by, a subtle shift occurred. Ellie's movements became slower, her attempts to engage fading into resigned acceptance of the silence that enveloped them. You found it increasingly difficult to maintain the facade of indifference, the echo of Ellie's unanswered questions haunting your thoughts.

In the hushed stillness of the evening, a gentle knock interrupted the palpable tension. Ellie stood at the guest room door, her gaze holding a silent plea, a hesitant invitation to bridge the gap. The vulnerability in her eyes mirrored 'your' own hesitance, a silent understanding passing between them.

With a hesitant exhale, youfinally acknowledged her presence. A tentative conversation began, words cautious yet laden with unspoken apologies. Slowly, the barriers began to dissolve as they navigated the minefield of their emotions, unravelling the tangled threads of misunderstanding that had woven between them.

With a soft voice laced with sincerity, Ellie began,

" Thought you'd forgive me like you always do..but you didn't- and shit, it was hard. Okay? Hard as hell ignoring you, and I thought you'd come 'round at the end, but you didn't and..and.. "

Her apology held a depth of genuine remorse, an earnest desire to mend what had been fractured between them.

As her wife turned to face her, Ellie's eyes clearly mirrored a mix of vulnerability and hope. With a gentle touch, she reached out, her hand seeking connection, a silent plea for understanding.

" -and I miss us, miss you. I can't sleep without you- fuck, I can live without you, babydoll. 'M sorry. "

Ellie confessed softly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

"Come back to bed, our bed."

She finally utters, gloss pooling at her forest green orbs.

With a gentle yet yearning touch, she reaches out, her hand hovering in the space between you, a silent invitation tinged with a fervent need for connection. The warmth of her touch carries an unspoken promise, an invitation to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

"Heard you..'been hearing you every night from these damned walls. Your whines, baby. It was both painful and pleasurable. I need to make up for them.." Ellie cups your chin, tilting your head forward to meet her gaze- all while her other hand travels down the valley of your breasts until she cups your warm mound; Ellie would pray to whatever gods out there sculpted your figure- to the chubs of your hip-dips to the inner thighs she kisses every night she's lathering moisturizer onto- though she hasn't had her fill in 3 days so..

"Wanna make up for the pleasure part now.." Her warm breath fans your already heated face, the cupping of your chin now becoming painful.

The quiet hum of the room seems to echo the unspoken desires, the yearning for closeness that pulses beneath the surface. At this moment, the air feels charged with a newfound tension, a shift from silent avoidance to an unspoken acknowledgment of longing and a shared desire for reconciliation..

For sex.

Verily, it was proven Ellie could simply not abstain from you.

[rasairui]

I'm glad more people are pointing out how racist people's reaction to the Toshiro/"Shuro" Laios thing is because oh my god. Like okay hi. I'm an autistic white passing Japanese american. And while I haven't read the whole manga through, I have read bits of their confrontation and I adored it. Like it was really painful but it was also a misunderstanding that is so so realistic and I empathized with both of them.

The stoicism and really specific social rules are something I've had to navigate with my extended family, my Hijichan specifically. I've never had fights or blow ups with him over it, or anyone else for that matter, but being an autistic person who has lots of traits very similar to Laios' and growing up trying to figure out how to effectively communicate with my family- that whole scene, despite how difficult it was to read, was really cathartic. I adored it because I understood both of them and it was exciting seeing that very specific dynamic and how it could blow up written well. Like it was that bit that made me more interested in Dungeon Meshi as a whole because I felt seen in both of them. It is such a well done conflict and I'm obsessed, I was excited to see what other autistic people thought. And then it just turned into white fans completely woobifying Laios and acting like Toshiro is some deliberately ableist aggressor and dismissing the cultural context surrounding his behavior. And needless to say I'm not fucking impressed.

Baffling how many white people talk about loving manga/anime and Japan obsessively but when Japanese Media actually comments on Japanese Culture it completely flies over their heads or is deliberately completely and utterly ignored. I really do hate some of you and I will defend Toshiro Nakamoto until the day I die.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, here is another chapter! As always thank you all for the love you show me and all your kind words, I love reading all of your messages and comments/replies!! Everyone seems to love Gwayne Hightower lol !

Setting a boundary here: Please stop asking me when the next update is going to be when there has been a ONE DAY BREAK, its really rude and fucking annoying hehe (i'm at my breaking point with these dms).

ANYWAY... I wrote this chapter ages ago ahead of time and have been itching to get you all here... hehe... Enjoy <3

Chapter 64: A Bee 

You walked around the Keep aimlessly, looking at the different Lords and Ladies who shuffled aimlessly through the castle, thinking of who you could pursue. You thought of how Aegon and Aemond had both happily, and openly found pleasure with others. And how women like your mother were punished for doing the same. 

You had left your chambers with clarity in your mind. You would find someone else. If Aemond was to travel and love another, then you would too, only minus the travel.

They could be your ally in the Keep. You could spend your time talking to them and enjoying your days in each others company. You would not be so alone in the Keep. And above all of this, it could be advantageous.

When you left your chambers, you walked with no destination round the Keep. More specifically, the areas were Lords and Ladies would frequently pass. You had walked and observed, watched and deliberated on who would be a good match for you.

You thought of the names you already knew.

Perhaps the Lannister? But even the idea of taking him into your bed made your skin crawl, for all of Aemond’s cruelty, you knew that he would at least bring you pleasure, and doubted that the Lannister even knew how. 

You thought of Cregan Stark. Now he would be a good match. He was about your age, a few years older, maybe the same as Aemond. He was, from what you had been told, a handsome and respectful Lord. He was said to have the famed dark, curly hair of the Starks and eyes to match. But he was in the North, and thankfully allied to your mother, and you doubted that he would be able to sneak into the Keep unnoticed, nor you be able to send word to him by raven. 

It would have to be someone who came to the Red Keep frequently.

Or resided in Kings Landing at least.

You let yourself lean against a wall in a hallway, watching potential suitors walk past you. To your dismay, most of the Lords were old and balding, whilst the women refused to meet your gaze. You thought of Ser Criston Cole, but shrugged the thought away quickly with a shiver. He would not come to your bed willing and at the slightest hint of your plotting he would tuck tail and run to his precious Hightower Queen. You would do well to avoid him at all costs.

Lest you end up like you mother.

You shuddered at the thought and continued to watch the people walk about the Keep.

And then you saw someone promising.

He was tall, though not as tall as Aemond, and with a regular build. His skin was pale and dark curled hair was cut close to his head. He was not the most handsome man you had seen, but in a Keep with limited options you thought he would be a good enough.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, member of Aegon’s small council, walked through the halls slowly, large tome and parchment in hand. His eyes were a light brown, and he had a trimmed dark beard around his face. His face was stern and his eyes were hard, a most serious looking man.

You smiled at him gently as he walked closer towards you, moving to pass you in the halls. 

“Lord Wylde.” You greeted, straightening your posture as you smiled sweetly at him. 

You had not spoken once to the man, merely been in his presence a few times, including once when you has dined with Aegon on your wedding night. The Lord slowed his step and looked down at you, hint of interest in his eyes.

Perfect.

“Princess.” He greeted back, and moved to continue his walk. You pushed away from the wall to come beside him, his eyes watching your move.

“Might I accompany you on your walk?” You asked sweetly, hands behind your back as you pushed your chest forward subtly. You felt a prickle run along your skin.

You had heard from Saria that the Lord was known as Ironrod to the small folk, for he was unbending and immovable with his beliefs. A small voice wondered that if he was called Ironrod for another reason. Lord Jasper had sired over twenty-nine children, and had wed four wives, three of whom you knew had died in child birth.

“Of course, My Lady.” Wylde responded, uncertainty in his voice as you slowly began to walk together through the halls of the Red Keep.

“I must apologise for my behaviour in the Throne room the other day,” You began, knowing that he had witnessed your outburst. You needed to be sweet, saccharine, a docile woman he may take advantage of, “I was finding myself emotional after so long apart from my husband.” You looked down shyly at your feet as you walked. 

The Master of Laws stayed quiet beside you as you continued. Perhaps he would not be as easy as you had thought. You turned another corner, looking at the man as something moved in the corner of your eye.

“Does your wife reside here in Kings Landing with you, My Lord?” 

“My late Lady Wife passed away in childbirth two moons ago.”

Four wives then.

You slowed your step, frown pulling your lips downwards. A shiver rolled down your back and your hairs stood on end.

“My condolences. Are you being looked after?”

Jasper smiled down at you softly, “Of course, Princess. King Aegon provides all that I need here.”

Ugh.

“I am gladdened to hear this.” You paused looking back down at your feet as he slowed his step, curious eyes looking over you. 

“Do you not get... lonely?” You asked, looking up at him as you came to a complete stop.

The Lord of the Rain House stilled and looked down at you, hands adjusting the tomes and parchment in his hands. A silence stretched between the both of you as you looked at each other. 

Why was he not saying anything?

More importantly, who was watching you?

It set you on edge.

“I only ask as my Lord Husband is away for so long, and I find myself anxious for his return.”  You made a show of the sadness you supposedly felt, lifting a hand to come touch the man, before rethinking it and tucking back behind you to move forward. 

“It does get lonely, at times.” Lord Wylde spoke quietly, “Though I have promising news of a potential betrothal to Lady Ellyn Baratheon.” 

Here comes wife number five.

Shit.

“Oh, that is wonderful news then, My Lord. I must congratulate you. I would hate to know the you suffer the same affliction as I do.” You continued. 

The prickling of your skin started again and you turned your head. You and Lord Wylde had walked beside the Godswood in the open courtyard coridoors, where not too far from you stood a man with his cane.

You were definitely being watched.

“This is where I must leave you,” You told him, “Until we meet again.” You smiled, turning and leaving Lord Wylde without hearing his farewell. 

You crossed the courtyard not too far away, to where Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stood watching you with a knowing smile, leaning on his cane.

“Princess Y/n.” He greeted you, as you came to stand in front of him.

“Lord Larys. Do you ever grow tired of watching me from afar?”

The man hummed, “A fine day in King’s Landing.”

“No finer than the last. I would ask you to join me on my walk, but… I fear it may not be of interest to you.” You pointedly look down at his club foot.

Larys smiled, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Princess. My club foot would not restrict me from such an honour.”

You hummed.

Turning on your foot, you waited until he came to your side and began to slowly move out of the courtyard. You moved around the Keep, leading out to the garden.

Caution arose inside of you as you walked beside Lord Larys. You did not trust the man, nor did you like him. He was one of the many vipers in this nest, and had whispered in Alicent’s ears for years. For the most part, he had made himself scarce, barely acknowledging you, nor your presence for many years growing up, but now his sudden interest in you was a warning for you to keep a level head.

You would do well to not let your guard down around the man and not show him any weaknesses.

“Lord Larys, forgive me for my brazenness, but I must ask you.” You stopped walking and looked at him.

He did not look much like Ser Harwin. He was smaller, and weaker and ill-made. He stood crooked and thin, skin pale, and resembled a weasel more than a man. But his dark eyes and hair were the resemblance of his House.

“I am sure what you are about to ask is neither brazen, nor offensive, My Lady.”

You gave him a small smile.

“How does it feel...” You began looking down at the floor in mock innocence, as you begin to walk again through the garden, dirt path beneath your feet, and blooming flowers of all colours and shapes surrounding you.

You left him in limbo of the question a little while longer, before continuing, “...To the be the last of Strong blood? I was shocked when I had heard the news of what my Lord Husband had done in Harrenhal to your House, and I feel as though I must apologise to you for his actions.” 

“My Lady, you know more than I, that I am not alone.” He looked at you pointedly.

Your brothers. 

You clenched your jaw.

“Ah, yes. Alys Rivers.” You looked him up and down, “I suppose with her still surviving, you are not the last Strong after all.”

Larys lets out a small, knowing laugh, quiet for no-one else in the garden to hear, but loud enough for you.

You steered the both of you towards where you always sat. Where you and Helaena had watched sunsets and sunrises, looked at bugs and talked of your futures together.

Not at all what it was for now. 

You sat at a small steel table, and held out a hand for him to take the one opposite you. He bowed his head and sat, leaning his long cane against the table. It was well crafted, with a gold top, a small bee in its centre. It reminded you of the cane that had been left in your chambers. 

A servant boy came to join you once he saw the two of you seated.

“Please bring me and Lord Larys some tea and fruit. " You smiled at the boy, "Thank you.”

The young boy, no older than ten-and-five, bowed his head, and scuttled out of the garden towards the Keep. You held your hands together on the table.

“I will withdraw any pleasantries from this conversation henceforth. You know better than I,” You mocked his previous words, “That you are no ally to me, and I simply cannot stand the sight of you.” You smiled gracefully.

To any passing in the garden, it would look as though you were having a pleasant interaction.

“For years I had thought of how Ser Harwin and your late father had died so quickly on their return back to Harrenhal. I had slept on it as a child, you see. Ser Harwin was good to us,” You smiled and nodded your head to behind him, "He trained me in the yards just on the other side of this Keep. He was like a father to me.” 

Larys watched as you spoke to him, relaxed in your chair. All falseness had left his face, and what was left in its wake was a viper. He certainly played the defenceless and meek man well. 

“At first, I had my suspicions that Alicent had to be behind it, but it did not make sense for the man who could be put on trial for treason, to be put to death first. And so quietly too. "

You leant forward on the table as you looked at him, "Alicent loves a public spectacle, we saw that the day she tried to take my brothers eye. So I ruled her out. And then I thought some more.”

The servant boy came back with a large silver tray, pot of tea and teacups sitting atop, with a small plate of cut up fruit. You paused from your thoughts as the young boy placed the cups down in front of you, pouring them high and placing the fruit in its centre.

“Thank you. That will be all.” You thanked the boy, dismissing him, watching as he left. 

Reaching across the table you picked up a small sugar container, mother of pearl spoon inside. You scooped a small spoonful of sugar out of the bowl and held it towards Larys.

“Sugar?” You asked.

The man nodded, and you let the small soft grains fall into his cup of tea, before placing the sugar back in front of you. Picking up your unsweetened tea, you brought it to your lips, the steam brushing against your mouth warmly.

You took a small and polite sip. It was steeped perfectly.

A soft bitter aftertaste, just as you preferred in times of stress like this. Larys picked up his spoon, stirring the sugar into his tea gently, before bringing it up to his lips to drink.

“It was not hard to figure out. Who would have something to gain from the death of the Lord Lyonel Strong, and his first born son, Ser Harwin?”

You placed your teacup back on the table, letting the china clink softly against one another. Larys mirrored your movements. He did not seem nervous at all by your accusation, nor comments.

“Of course, it always comes down to the second son. You had a title to gain, lands and wealth, and not only that, but I suspect something to hold over the Queen’s conscience. Am I wrong?” You asked, and Larys stayed silent, "I’m sure you made it seem as though you did it for her, yes?”

“Quite the accusation, Princess. What you accuse me of would be treason, and kinslaying.” Larys mused, picking up his cup to sip at again.

“Of course. Forgive me, ’tis merely just speculation and a child’s mind left to run through endless possibilities.” You shrugged, and reached forward to pull a grape from its bunch, popping the round fruit into your mouth, feeling your teeth slice through the juicy flesh.

“It was an unfortunate accident. They say that Harrenhal is cursed.” The Strong man began, “Not at all like what had happened to the poor Prince Daeron.”

You let your head lazily look down as you sighed, “An unfortunate accident,” You parroted, “A casualty of war. Thank the Seven that we now have a treaty, to prevent further losses such as that.”

You sipped your tea in tandem, a tense silence filling your area of the garden.

“And how are you faring? Have you settled back into the Keep?” He asked.

“With my Lord Husband so frequently gone, I find myself more settled than ever.” You smiled, “It is relaxing to know that I do not have two monsters, watching me at all hours. Though I do worry for his absence. What whispers will the courts concoct once they hear of his whoring?”

“Trouble in paradise in such a fresh marriage is concerning to hear. But I would not worry on any opinions of the Lords and Ladies at court. They would not care for a bastard born from another.”

“And what of this bastard, Lord Larys, Master of Whispers? I have heard whispers of my own. They say that she is a witch, and has put a spell on my husband. That is why she still lives. Is it true?” 

“I seemingly recall you reminding me that I am neither your ally, nor you mine.”

“Mm. That’s true. You can’t blame me for trying. It is terribly dull, locked in this Keep. I am just desperate enough to sit and have tea with you, let alone look at you.” You smiled, and he smiled back. 

“Is this why you peruse the Keep in search of somebody? Is your Lord Husband not satisfying your needs, warming your bed chambers?”

“Unfortunately for me, my bed chambers are warmed enough. Though they lack a certain, want. I am sure you would know all about this, having known about Aegon and his wondering cock. You know, it truly is a mystery at how it has not fallen off yet.”

“A mystery indeed, Princess.” He paused, drinking from his tea, watching you, thinking, and when he comes to a conclusion, he places the cup back down, reaching to refill it.

“But Alys Rivers is less of a mystery.” He began, “I have heard tales of her beauty. An older woman with hair as black as the night sky, and eyes of green that pierce any mans soul. Rumours are about that she is a witch, and she claims to be one. Though who knows if it is real or not. I have been told she wears a chain of Valyrian steel around her neck, with three emeralds dripping from it. A gift from a Targaryen Prince.” The man shrugged, “Depends on what you believe.”

He brings the cup to sip again, eyes watching you over the rim.

“Are you a man of Faith, Lord Strong?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe what I am told.”

“And what a good little dog you make for it.” You smiled viciously, pulling another grape from the table to pop into your waiting mouth. “For a Master of Whispers, you sure do miss a lot of things.”

“Like what, Princess?”

You laughed.

“If you truly are a Master of Whispers, I am sure you will find out in due time. Need I remind you that I am neither your friend, nor ally?”

“You need not. Though may I give a word advice?”

You sighed, cocking your head, “No. But I have a feeling that you are going to anyway.”

“If you are to look for a man to warm your chambers in the absence of your husband, it is best that you don’t do so, so brazenly.” He smiled brightly, “Though he has lost an eye, he is not blind and has his ears.”

“Of no doubt you will be whispering your poison into.”

Larys smiled a sickly smile, “Of no doubt. Who knows what the courts may begin to whisper. Of course, only if my hand is forced.”

“May I offer you a word of advice, Lord Larys?”

The mans hand touched the top of his cane, its engraved bee sitting pretty in the expanse of the tip. A smirk wound its way on his lips in confirmation, head tilting to tell you to speak.

“Don't fuck with me." You smiled, and enjoyed the way the man blinked in shock at your harsh words, “I have found that throughout my life, men with ambition are a great threat to the realm and to the people living within it. I doubt that any man,” You looked him up and down in disgust, “Or woman, would lay with you. And without the lust of flesh, you are free to lust after power. A dangerous man indeed.” You smiled falsely, leaning back in your chair, listening to the waves behind you before you continued.

“Dragon or no dragon, I have not forgotten your place in this war, nor what you had done to Ser Harwin. I will rip your throat out with my teeth if I must. But of course,” You stood from the table looking down at the man who’s brow had hardened, “Only if my hand is forced.”

You walked around the table to stand beside Lord Larys.

“Thank you for an… inspiring conversation, Lord Larys.” You smiled down at him, “I had almost forgotten of your presence in the Keep.”

You grinned at the man, letting your hand come to touch his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stared at his empty tea cup as you walked away, leaving him to his thoughts and your unprovoked threat.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Catch the Sunrise

As Crosshair struggles to integrate into life on Pabu after being rescued from Mount Tantiss, you try to reconnect with him and draw him out of his shell.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic).

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: angst and whump, care and comfort, Cross is not okay, things do get better, ends hopeful.

A/N: this one is a little different than my other stuff, but its been rattling around in my head ever since I saw the teaser trailer at Celebration for S3. Cross looked so depressed, and goodness I just wanted to scoop up the sad toothpick and give him a cuddle. So, this is what this is – we’re giving him a great big cuddle.

In the stillness of the early morning, as the island slumbered in hushed tones, you stirred in your bed, your eyelids fluttering open to the fading darkness that enveloped your room. The dimming moonlight cast a glow, offering mere glimpses of the familiar shapes around you.

A sudden creak echoed through the silence, and your drowsy mind snapped to attention. Heart skipping a beat as you strained to discern the source of the sound, your breath hitched when a second noise reached your ears: the soft, unmistakable click of the door opposite yours closing.

Sitting up, the covers slipped off you. With cautious movements, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. Every step towards the door seemed to amplify the rhythm of your pounding heart, and you reached for the robe hanging on the back of it, tying it hastily around your body.

You didn’t hesitate to open your door, though you took it slow to avoid the squeak you still hadn’t greased.

The hallway was dimly lit by the faint glow of the night light used to help Omega navigate to the bathroom in the dark, and it threw elongated shadows along the walls. You tiptoed forward, steps deliberate and silent, and peered around the corner.

There, about to head down the stairs, was Crosshair.

It had been six weeks since you’d stormed Mount Tantiss to get him and Omega back, finding Tech in a bacta tank, too.

They’d integrated back into life on Pabu with ease – Omega had started attending the island’s school, while Tech had made it his mission to fix anything he could get his hands on.

But Crosshair… he’d withdrawn. Barely leaving his room, he seemed like a ghost of his former self, lost in his thoughts. The scars from his time with the Empire weren’t just physical but mental, too, and they weighed heavily on him. You’d tried to help him as much as you could, but that stubborn streak of his was hard to break. It was clear that the road to recovery was going to be a long and difficult one, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

You watched him from the shadows, torn between wanting to respect his space and the need to reach out to him. He seemed so distant, so different from the man you’d known during the war – the man who’d at first been frustrated by the presence of a mere civilian in the squad but had then grown protective of you, who’d inked an Aurebesh ‘99’ onto your wrist so you’d finally match him and his brothers, and who’d taught you how to use his rifle when no one else was allowed to touch it.

As Crosshair descended the stairs, you knew this might be your chance to talk to him, to draw him out of his shell. You stepped out from the shadows and called his name softly. He froze, his hand halfway down the handrail, and slowly turned to face you.

It was hard to miss the tiredness that painted his face; those hawkish eyes you’d gazed into thousands of times were now red-rimmed and glassy. Neither of you uttered a word, the silence lingering for a second before he sighed, turning and heading down the rest of the stairs.

You took off after him, tiptoeing to not wake his siblings. Bare feet met the tiled floor of the living room, and you found him at the window, gazing out into the distance. He’d never been a conversationalist, that much was a fact, but he’d barely uttered a word in six weeks, instead opting to respond with small sounds and grunts to convey varying levels of annoyance.

For a moment, you take him in. He was still too slender for your liking – he’d lost the few pounds he’d once had while he’d been in captivity on Tantiss – and he was in desperate need of a shave, grey stubble covering his jawline. His hair was starting to grow back, silver flecks covering his scalp, though you knew it would never hide his scar from Bracca.

Moving forward, you stopped at his side, eyes shifting to look out the window, too. The palm trees swayed a little in the light breeze, the fading moonlight casting an eerie glow. “It’s pretty here, don’t you think?” You ask lowly, not expecting an answer but wanting to at least engage in some sort of conversation with him, to not ignore him.

You knew his siblings were struggling, unsure how best to help him. Tech had naturally gravitated to his twin – the two of them sharing a bond you’d never understand – but he couldn’t get more than one word out of him. Omega still talked Crosshair’s ear off as he sat and silently listened, but he never replied. Wrecker shoved Lula into his face and knocked his shoulder playfully, but there was no grunt of frustration, or angry toothpick flicked in his direction anymore. Echo had left Pabu to help Rex with the fledging rebellion so that left Hunter…

The relationship between the oldest and youngest of the Batch was strained at best. Hunter was trying to build bridges, extending olive branches wherever he could, trying to make up for everything that had happened in the last year, but Crosshair was so lost in his thoughts and troubles that he missed most of them. You’d spent an equal number of nights sitting silently by Crosshair’s side to offer comfort and reassuring Hunter that every attempt he made was good and that his brother would eventually reach out in return when he was ready.

The silence stretches, but from your peripheral, you catch his eyes shifting to you for a moment before he looks back out of the window. “I was thinking of going to the pier to catch the sunrise.” You state. “It should start in an hour. If you’d be up for it, you can join me.” You extend the offer. If you could get him outside, that would be a positive step, but you wouldn’t pressure him. Right now, he reminded you of a feral lothcat needing reassurance, stability, and comfort.

There’s a moment of pause before he gives a slight nod, and it takes everything in you not to smile and jump for joy. His eyes rake back over to you, looking you up and down, taking in the robe you’d hastily pulled on to follow him. “I should change first.” You chuckle quietly. “Give me two minutes.”

It’s instinctual for you to reach out and give his forearm a gentle squeeze, something you’d done often during the war.

As you take the stairs two at a time back to your room to change, you miss how his eyes follow you and then drop to his arm, glued to the spot you’d touched. 

When you return downstairs, he’s pulled on a light jacket and some shoes. You do the same, dragging on your shoes from the cluttered rack near the front door.

Together, you step out of the house that had been a gift from the residents of Pabu – a thank you for saving them from the tsunami and helping them rebuild the island. Instinct kicks in again as you reach for his wrist, fingers wrapping around to help draw him out past the front gate and toward the pier. You’d always reached for him and his brothers, grabbing wrists and hands, touching shoulders or waists as you passed. It had been subconscious, a way to remind yourself that they were safe and you were doing your job as their handler right.

Crosshair doesn’t pull away from your touch. Instead, he focuses on how you hold on to him, how you lead him so effortlessly through the winding streets. It felt odd, a little uncomfortable even, to experience such a soft touch after countless weeks in Hemlock’s clutches and the months before that alone in the Empire’s ranks.

The two of you walk slowly, the gentle noise of your footsteps breaking the quiet of the predawn hours. The island was serene, bathed in the faint glow of the stars and the imminent promise of the rising sun.

Arriving at the wooden pier extending into the calm waters, you both found a spot to settle. Positioning yourself on the edge, legs dangling over the side, Crosshair stood slightly back, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The first hints of daylight began to break the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, the waters below mirroring the beautiful canvas above.

You stole glances at Crosshair, observing his subtle reactions to the scenery. His usually steely demeanour seemed to soften as he stared at the horizon. The faintest hint of a wistful expression flickered across his face, something you hadn’t seen in a while.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a sunrise.” He spoke, the words breaking the silence between you. His voice was raw, hoarse from not being used for an extended period.

“Sunrises have a way of grounding us.” You respond softly, your gaze fixed on the emerging dawn. “It’s a reminder that every day brings a new beginning.”

He remained silent, but a small nod indicated his acknowledgement of your words. The minutes slipped by as the sky transformed into hues of pastel.

Eventually, you turned to him, searching for something to bridge the gap between you. “Cross, they all missed you - Omega, Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter. I missed you, too.”

A fleeting shadow crosses his features, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’m not the same.” He murmurs, barely audible, over the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier.

“No one expects you to be.” You assure him, reaching out tentatively, your hand resting on his forearm again. His muscles tense slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay not to be okay.”

His eyes met yours, the turmoil inside of him evident. “I’m not used to this...feeling.” He admits in a whisper.

“And that’s okay.” You repeat, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone, and you can face this feeling. We’re all here for you in whatever way you need us.”

The sunrise marked a new chapter—a silent understanding between you. You stay by his side, allowing the morning light to wash away the remnants of the night’s darkness, your hand still resting on his arm, anchoring him in the moment. You talk about inconsequential things, about the sea, the island, anything that didn’t carry the weight of the past. Occasionally, he would respond.

As the sun finally emerges in all its glory, painting the world in golden light, a glimmer of something different appears in Crosshair’s eyes. For a moment, it’s like a sliver of the old Crosshair has peeked through the layers of trauma and pain.

You don’t expect everything to change in this one moment. Healing was a process, a gradual journey through the shadows towards the light. But this, this felt like a step forward. A spark of hope.

The day was beginning, and as the island woke, you hoped that this small, shared moment would be the start of something more. A reminder that there was still beauty to be found, bonds to be rebuilt, and healing to be embraced. And that better days lay on the horizon.

[yujo-nishimura]

Red Hair or Red Nose? - Part 6

Warning: NSFW - Minors do not interact, this part is for 18+. Apologies for the spelling mistakes/English grammar mistakes - English is not my native language. Writing this was quite difficult since I am asexual/demisexual and writing about men's sexuality was a real fascinating challenge.

This is the first part of the threesome - the second part will hopefully follow tomorrow. (I need to take breaks in between, cause this is quite an intense process as you can imagine... ;)).

Enjoy reading!

Your gaze shifts between Shanks and Buggy, taking in the captivating glow in Shanks' eyes and the unwavering sly grin on Buggy's face. The intensity of the moment causes a fiery sensation that seems to consume your entire body and flushes your face with heat. You are probably as red as a tomato. Despite the overwhelming sensation, you find yourself immobilized, unable to move as the electrifying tension between the three of you lingers in the air. You know you want them. Both of them. These handsome, commanding pirate captains who now stand before you. They have transformed from the boys you once knew into captivating men, exuding an irresistible allure.

Shanks takes a step closer, reaching for a piece of his cape and delicately using it to wipe away the makeup stains left by Buggy's kiss. The sight of the stains only deepens your sense of embarrassment, making you regret ever suggesting the kiss in the first place. The weight of your actions begins to bear down on you, and you contemplate blaming it on the influence of alcohol the next day. Uncertain of how to navigate the situation and turn it around, you find yourself at a loss.

However, Shanks senses your hesitation and responds with a gentle whisper in your ear after tidying your face, "If you're unsure about who was better, we can try again. Perhaps you need more time to come to a decision..." 

Without waiting for your answer, Shanks assumes control once more, guiding you to a secluded corner nestled between two dimly lit houses. His movements are deliberate and unhurried, yet there is an undeniable strength that emanates from his arm. Buggy, having fallen silent, follows suit, an unspoken understanding passing between him and the red-haired pirate. It is the first time this evening that Buggy appears to be in agreement with Shanks, adding an intriguing layer to what is happening to you. 

Shanks lifts you gently, effortlessly supporting your weight with his one arm, and settles you onto a nearby barrel, your back resting against the solid wall of the house. Standing beside you, Buggy slowly removes his white gloves, an act that carries a sense of anticipation and intimacy. 

“I think you both are excellent at kissing…!” you finally find some words, wanting to show them that you are still actively involved in this whole scene and not just a playball for their desires. 

"If you enjoyed the kiss, my dear, you're in for an even greater delight...!" Buggy's chuckle resonates with a husky tone as he separates his hands from his body, allowing them to tenderly explore every inch of yours. His touch glides across your shoulders, trails along your neck, caresses your chest, and gently cups your breasts. Meanwhile, Shanks, wearing a knowing smile, resumes kissing you, reigniting the passionate connection between you with renewed intensity. The combined sensations of Buggy's intimate exploration and Shanks' ardent kisses send waves of pleasure coursing through your being, a silent moan is escaping your throat but both of them recognize it immediately. 

Buggys hands are now under your clothes, you can feel his warm fingers on your burning skin, he steps closer to the both of you and Shanks is stepping away for a moment to let Buggy kiss you again. The mixture of feeling Shanks´ gentle lips compared to the rough kiss afterwards by the clown pirate makes you feel light-headed. You start to hold on to Buggy with one arm, reaching for Shanks to come closer with your other hand. Both of them seem not to mind having to share you, Shanks now also exploring your body gently and carefully.

You are startled and whimper in pleasure as Buggy lets his fingers slide into your pants, gently rubbing over your clothed folds. You did not expect them to go all the way, but then you also did not know what to expect from them. You are now driven by the need to feel good. You want these men to make you cum. Shanks is holding you now, he slightly lifts you, so Buggy can enter you easily.  You are pressing your face into the warmth of Shanks neck while Buggy is carefully and slowly entering your wet pussy with two of his fingers. You can smell the alcohol and sea salt on Shanks skin, you whimper again as Buggy starts to move his fingers quicker, gently rubbing your clit. Shanks holding you, kissing your face, your lips, your forehead, making sure you can enjoy this moment to the fullest. “Do you like this, does it feel good?”, he gently whispers and you can only nod, feeling close to having your first orgasm caused by the skilful fingers of this clown captain.  “I will let him prepare you for me…” Shanks whispers, so that only you can hear it. 

At that moment the coil in your stomach seems to snap, you feel your walls clenching on to Buggys fingers as you come.

The clown smiles, liking your juices off and making you go crazy with the look he is giving you while taking a taste of you. 

“Are you ready?” Shanks asks you and he gently lifts your legs again, with a quick movement he has made himself free from his pants and his throbbing cock is pushing against your wet stained underwear. He tries to gently take off your clothes but Buggy cannot wait and he rips your slip apart. 

Shanks hisses as he slowly enters you, you can first feel the tip of his cock, then he is going all the way in, you throw your head back, moaning - how can this feel so good? Shanks starts moving slowly, not sure how much he can do to your petite body, he wants to take his time to make you get used to his massive cock. Buggy is less patient and you can see in his eyes that he is furious that Shanks entered you first. He jumps on the barrel next to you, light as a feather, detaching his hand guiding your face to look at his crotch right next to you. 

“Don't think I will be gentle on you like the red haired monkey, you will suck me off good, I know you can do that, baby doll!” 

Without hesitation he swiftly unfastens his belt and his trousers fall to his knees. His cock is equally thick and hard as Shanks and you are not sure if you can take it. Buggy, not giving you any choice, smiles down at you, enjoying the empty, willing look in your eyes, while Shanks is slowly pumping into you in his own rhythm. 

Buggy uses his hands to force your lips apart and shoves his erect member all the way down your throat. Thank god you have no gag reflex, you whimper again in pleasure and anticipation - feeling that Shanks probably aroused by Buggys bold behavior has increased his speed now. 

“That's good. You are taking this so well, baby girl.” Buggy hisses and reattaches his hands, realizing he doesn't need to force you anymore. You feel close to your second orgasm, while these two men gently violate your body. Shanks is moaning into your ear, calling you a good girl, a pretty angel, while Buggy is ramming his cock into your mouth, calling you sweet pea and little cute whore. Shortly before you think they are about to cum, Buggy and Shanks momentarily cease their actions, releasing their hold on you. In a brief, subtle exchange of glances, they share an unspoken understanding, a silent communication that speaks volumes.

You whimper in need of your second orgasm and anticipation...

[etoile-filante222]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙ venus in the signs ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

✧ venus shows your inspiration and sense of aesthetic and how you love.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

✲ venus in aries

aries venus is direct and energetic, they love the chase and excitement a relationship can give them. they adore physical touch, spontaneity and playful bickering. people with this palcement have a strong sense of adventure and, like other aries palcements, a desire for freedom and competition. venus in aries values honesty and don't appreciate evasiveness.

✲ venus in taurus

taurus venus enjoy comfortability; high-energy and fast-paced relationships are perceived as threatening. people with venus in taurus seek loyalty, they need to feel valued and appreciated without being suffocated or pushed; and giving them plenty of time. harmony and patience are important factors for a well functioning relationship.

✲ venus in gemini

gemini venus are witty conversationalists and enjoy presenting their knowledge on various topics. they get easily bored and are hard to pin down, people with venus in gemini need constant mental stimulatiation and a little bit of excitement in their love life. realtionships should be fun and interesting, they are very curious on a romantic and social level.

✲ venus in cancer

cancer venus is sensitive and seeks comfort and security in a realtionship. they feel uneasy, when things seem unpredictable and rash. people with their venus in cancer show their love and affection by being caring and attending. devotion and effort are highly valued. cancer venus are romantic, nurturing and self-protective.

✲ venus in leo

leo venus loves flirting and being flirted with, they thrive on romantic attention. despite their high standards and big expectations, people with venus in leo are big-hearted and very loving. loyality and honesty are highly valued. they need to feel special and adored - but they also love making their partner fell that way. love is very important to venus in leo, they take pride in their romantic relationships.

✲ venus in virgo

virgo venus are not very flirtatous or flashy, but their affection and the gifts they make are very detail oriented and devoted. they are sensitive in love and may appear as insecure and reserved. venus in virgo manage to make their way into ones heart in a quiet, yet attentive way. they appreciate all the little things and small gestures, which sometimes goes unnoticed by their loved ones.

✲ venus in libra

libra venus requires mutual support, care and affection to make a realtionship work. they have an idealized image of love and tend to idolize their partner, which can lead to disappointment if things don't live up to their expectation. venus in libra find fulfillment in love and would struggle to go through life without someone by their side. overall, people with venus in libra are kind and romantic.

✲ venus in scorpio

scorpio venus is a lover of intensity and mysteries. to navigate through a realtionship, they rely on their gut feeling and sentiments. people with venus in scorpio promise deep commitment, devotion and sexual pleasure - without directly saying it. this placement makes a person very focused on their partner, which some may find unnerving - or flattering, depending on the person.

✲ venus in sagittarius

sagittarius venus loves exploring new places and things, they enjoy learning about new cultures and philosophies. because of their need for excitement and adventure, keeping them in one place may be difficult. this also reflects in their relationship, there's a dislike for monotony and routine. they need to learn and experience new things together with their partner, no matter how small those may be.

✲ venus in capricorn

capricorn venus want to appear as competent and deliberate to their lover. their form of expressing their love and affection is on the more quieter and practical side, venus in capricorn makes a person realistic but still romantic. venus in capricorn value the long-term, they are not scared of difficulties and accept the realities of a relationship.

✲ venus in aquarius

aquarius venus impress others with their open-minded, modern way of thinking. they are attracted to the unusual or unconventional type of relationship, independence and amiability are highly valued. venus in aquarius appreciate lovers, who are also good friends and avoid grand, emotional displays of love. they need to be appreciated for their intellect and may appear as a bit detached in love.

✲ venus in pisces

pisces venus are dreamy, soft-hearted and romantic individuals. they enjoy the arts; poetry and music are the way to their hearts. their love is unconditional and runs deep, venus in pisces makes a person very sensitive. others tend to try to take advantage of their good nature, but pisces venus sees their forgiveness as a strenght. in a relationship, they are strong and weak at the same time.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

let me know if you're interested in diving further into a placement! i would love to elaborate. i just didn't want the post to get too long ✧

[happy74827]

Can you do Young Neil x reader ^.^?

Art of the Mixtape

[Neil Nordegraf x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: In true Neil fashion, he gives you the best birthday present he possibly can.

WC: 1942

Category: Fluff

I literally passed out while writing this on the couch last night, so I had to finish it today, but here ya go! Our precious Young Neil 🥰

『••✎••』

In the dim glow of Neil's room, scattered with posters of indie bands and vintage comics, he hunched over his old cassette player. His fingers delicately selected each track, infusing the mixtape with a subtle rhythm that mirrored the beating of his heart.

He knew he was being a little overly sentimental, but your birthday was one of the few times each year he was allowed to be a bit gushy, a rare occasion where he could take his time, choosing his words and actions with deliberate care. It was almost like the world was on pause for a moment as he navigated the relationship.

It was a simple thing, a few notes strung together on tape, but Neil carefully considered every word.

For you, the song's lyrics are more than just lyrics—they are an expression of his emotions, one that would surely be lost on anyone else. But in your hands, he knows you will understand him better than anyone.

"Love is like a fire; the more you try to hold onto it, the faster it burns."

The words are burning into your brain when Neil presses play.

You're still unsure what the song is meant to say, but you've come to realize how much it means to Neil. As the track loops for a third time, you sneak a glance over to him—his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted. You wonder what he sees in this moment—perhaps he is lost in a memory. You try to picture what he might be thinking of, but you're not sure if your imagination could do it justice.

In the past, you were never very good at interpreting what someone was trying to convey, and the times when you tried to express your feelings always left you with a sickly feeling in your stomach—a heavy knot of nerves that would eventually bubble up into bouts of tears. It's not that you were unaware of what Neil wanted to say, but rather, you were too scared even to imagine it.

The cassette player runs through its cycle a fourth time before the song finishes playing, and Neil's eyes slowly open. His gaze meets yours, and you can see the soft glow of his smile reflected in his eyes. You don't need to say anything because his smile is an unspoken promise of an affection that will last far longer than any cassette tape could possibly play.

His smile fades slowly as he leans towards you. As his lips meet yours, you swear that you can hear the song playing once again in a new refrain—one that promises more than a handful of words.

“Happy birthday…” Neil says quietly, and you swear you can see a faint blush rising to his cheeks. You know how difficult it is for him to be so candidly emotional. You know the words he longs to express—he's told you time and again—but he's afraid to say them out loud.

You're grateful for that. You know it's not an easy thing for him.

You kiss him again and smile.

"Thank you... I love it."

"It's nothing, really. Just uh, small gift." He looks at you with his warm, tender gaze, and you know he's worried you might not like it. "I know you like the vintage stuff, and uh, I found this old cassette player, so I just thought—"

You gently place your hand on his.

"Neil... thank you."

He averts his gaze, and you can see that he's bashfully smiling. He tucks his hair behind his ear and shakes his head lightly.

"I, uh, I'm glad you liked it."

He turns to look back at you and gives you another gentle smile. He seems content just to gaze upon your face, but you don't mind it. After a long moment, he glances down and turns his attention to the cassette player in his hands.

"There's uh, there's more. If you want to hear them..."

He holds the cassette player out to you. You take it in your hands. You turn the cassette player over in your fingers and feel its weight. It's an old cassette player—you know he had to have spent some time scouring thrift shops for it. It's one of the few things he owned that had a personal attachment to it. He was the one to first introduce you to mixtapes and indie music, after all.

You glance down at the player and then back at Neil. He's looking at you expectantly. You know he's hoping for a particular reaction. It's only natural that he would expect that sort of response from you. But, as he's well aware, it's not something that comes so easily.

You smile and nod.

"Of course."

You open the cassette player, and another one of the tracks begins to play. You recognize the melody—it's the song Neil played for you the very first day you met him. The song was a lot more incoherent then, but now the melody is clear. Neil put some time and effort into choosing each track. You can see it now in the careful way he arranged the songs on the cassette. He'd gone out of his way to create a playlist that fit your preferences.

"It's beautiful."

Neil seems surprised to hear your voice, but it quickly melts into a soft smile.

"You think so?" He hesitantly reaches out to touch your hand, and you can see his cheeks turn a shade darker. He runs his fingertips along your palm and gently traces the lines of your hand. "I wasn't sure if... I wanted to get you anything since I know you don't really like, uh, receiving gifts. I just wanted to make something for you, I guess..."

He looks at you, and you see a hint of nervousness in his expression. You can't help but chuckle to yourself. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and his expression softens. You smile, and he smiles back.

"I love it," you tell him.

Neil smiles wider, and you know that he knows you're sincere. The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxes as he looks back at you. He nods in reply.

"Good," he says. He pauses for a moment, and then he continues, "I wanted to make something for you, but, I dunno, I didn't know if it was right for you or... it would have been too weird..."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Too weird?"

Neil shakes his head and glances away. "Well, I wanted to make something, like, something you might have liked, but I just... I dunno, I kept thinking that you might not be interested and, uh, I thought, I mean, you're so cool, you know, and..."

You laugh as he begins to ramble. You squeeze his hand and gently pull him closer to you. He tries to look away from you, but you reach up to cup his chin, turning his gaze towards you. You kiss his cheek, and he looks away bashfully.

"Thank you," you say softly. "I don't need anything more than this."

He looks at you, and you smile.

"You mean it?"

You nod. "It's perfect."

He glances down and shyly smiles. He hesitantly reaches out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lightly brushing your skin as they trail down. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and your smile widens.

The cassette player is still playing softly, but you don't care. The song isn't important, not right now. You have a different song to sing, and the melody you wish to sing is nothing he could ever hope to craft in a tape player.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close as you press your lips against his again. His lips are warm and soft, and you swear you can feel the gentle vibrations as the melody plays out. He relaxes in your embrace and places his hand on the small of your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine as his fingertips press into your skin.

His breath is warm, and his heartbeat is steady, and the more you hold him, the more you can feel him. His lips are gentle as he returns your kiss, his hands holding you tenderly, and the longer you kiss, the more you long for his touch. The soft sound of his song playing in the background makes you feel like time has stopped, and all that matters is this moment, where your lips are pressed against his.

And even when Stephen barged in, shattering the peaceful silence of the moment, it still wasn't enough to break the spell. Neil looked at you with that same bashful, sweet smile he wore moments ago, and you could feel your heart melting.

Stephen glanced between the two of you, then sighed.

"Neil," he said, "Steph called again. She wants to make sure you’re aware that she’s visiting in two days. Are you?”

“Uh, yeah. I know. I talked to her... earlier.”

“Alright, cool. Hurry up and eat then. We have practice, remember? I can only cover for so long...”

Stephen left the room, leaving you and Neil alone again. Neil smiled sheepishly at you, and you knew that he'd forgotten about the practice session Stephen was talking about. You only halfheartedly remembered the date Stephen had mentioned, but you were more interested in watching Neil's reaction to being scolded.

"He's right," you tell him, "Can’t have Sex Bob-Omb without their bassist."

Neil laughs, and you feel your heart melt at the sound of his voice. “Maybe, uh, you can join us sometime? You could bring your drums or uh... I don't know, like a guitar or something."

You smirk. "Is that an invitation to jam with you guys?"

"Sure, why not? You're a better player than me."

You chuckle and shake your head. "I don't think that's true. Even Scott said you’re better than he was. Even the whole ‘Young Neil’ thing was dropped. I think you should be proud of that. I know I am."

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Of course. I'm very proud of you, Neil."

Neil's cheeks turn a faint pink as he ducks his head slightly. He laughs and shakes his head. "I, uh, I guess that's good to hear, I guess." He glances up at you, and you catch the way he's trying to hide a smile. "Thanks."

You lean close to him, brushing your lips against his cheek. He sighs, and you kiss him again. "You're welcome. I'm glad I get to help Sex Bob-Omb live out its dream."

He laughs softly, his hand cupping your cheek. He kisses you again and pulls you closer. The cassette player is still playing, and you've almost forgotten what song it is. Almost.

"Do you really think I'm good enough?"

You kiss him again and wrap your arms around him.

"You're the best."

His smile grows wider, and he buries his face against your neck. His laugh is soft, and his lips linger on your skin. You squeeze him tighter, and he presses his forehead against you, breathing in your scent.

"Thank you, really," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s my birthday wisdom to share."

"Yeah, yeah... Happy birthday, really."

He lifts his head to look at you and smiles, and you're sure there's no place in the world that you would rather be than right here, holding him. Because that’s all you'll ever need—a cassette player, an old song, and your love.

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Lucky Ones | viii. Conflicting emotions

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: nothing but angst, a bit of fluff

Summary: Now that the truth is out in the open, two women tries to navigate through their relationship after what happened on Natasha's birthday.

A/N: I've finally found the motivation to continue this series. Lmk your thoughts? 💭

»»-----------► Series Masterlist

Natasha and Wanda's relationship got strained over the next few days, turning into weeks that loomed over the approaching holiday season. They only talked about simple things that needed simple answers, avoiding deeper conversations.

Wanda feels hurt seeing them like strangers, sharing the same space but dodging the big issue between them.She's torn between running to Natasha, forgetting everything, and ignoring the shocking revelation, but it's not easy. The discovery has shaken her deeply, and being in love doesn't make it any simpler.

Wanda cares deeply for Natasha; she's not just anyone in her life. She likes to think that Natasha is the love of her life, and she'd go to great lengths for her. However, Wanda can't easily overlook the lies and cover-ups. While it might seem minor to others, Wanda's feelings are valid. She feels betrayed as crucial information was deliberately hidden from her, affecting their relationship.

Understanding Natasha's hesitation to share her past and how they met is challenging for Wanda. She knows breaking down Natasha's walls takes time and patience. However, there is no justification on how Natasha deliberately hid things from her.

Wanda has a habit of studying in advance for her final quarter, which is coming up in January, and she's working really hard to do well. But it's tough for her to concentrate because things aren't good between them. This makes her feel all mixed up inside. Natasha tries to give her space, still even sleeping on the couch, and being careful not to overstep Wanda's boundaries. Wanda wants to protect herself from Natasha and keep a distance, even though she knows this is only temporary. It's tricky to go about their normal lives with this tension.

Wanda observed that Natasha frequently came home late in the evening, appearing tired and worn out from the day's work. The exhaustion was clear in her eyes, yet Natasha persevered and continued with her routine as she normally would. Despite Natasha keeping her distance, she would wake up early and still make sure to prepare Wanda's breakfast and packed lunch every morning. This thoughtful gesture makes Wanda's heart feel a bit warmer, reminding her that Natasha cares.

Wanda isn't a cold person, she still cares a lot about Natasha. But she believes in not giving in too easily. They have to face the difficult parts of their relationship first, hoping that things will get better later on. She has set her priorities straight. Right now, she wants to focus on her studies and deal with her relationship with Natasha later. She believes that by facing the hard times first, they can have a well-deserved reconciliation down the road.

She also reflects on how much of her life was centered around Natasha. She realises she hasn't explored beyond their relationship. Recognizing a lack of support and few friends to lean on during tough times, she thinks it might be because she enjoys her own company and is introverted. Considering this, she contemplates trying to socialise more, exploring what life has to offer beyond her life with Natasha.

***

Their current situation is hanging over them, casting a shadow over the spirit of the Christmas season. It also doesn't help that Yelena extended an invitation to her for a Christmas get-together that her family will be having in the orphanage. She can't find it in her heart to decline and refuse the invite however, she knows and over thinks that this will cause a further rift between her and Natasha. It's like rubbing salt on a fresh open wound and might blow over their relationship.

"Did Yelena mention the Christmas party at the orphanage?" Natasha inquired, glancing at Wanda who was seated on the sofa, iPad in her lap, diligently highlighting notes from recent lectures.

"Yeah, she did. But I've let her know that I'm not sure if I can make it," Wanda replied, her focus returning to the notes she was reading.

"I see. Milena asked me, too. They really want you there."

Wanda hesitated, biting her lip for a moment before responding, "I'll think about it."

Without looking up, Wanda missed Natasha's reaction but caught a sigh and a faint "alright" as Natasha left the room. There's an ongoing tug-of-war in Wanda's mind, debating whether it's worth prolonging the significant issue they're facing. Natasha is giving her all the space and time she needs, leaving the ball in Wanda's court regarding the relationship's direction. Wanda harbors a nagging fear of damaging the bond they've nurtured, yet she realizes she's not the root cause of the rift. It stems from Natasha's inability to be honest and real. However, Wanda lacks the energy right now to extend an olive branch and repair their relationship.

***

On the night of the 20th, the last day of work for December before the holidays, Wanda heard the familiar jingle of keys signaling Natasha's return home. She noticed Natasha looking worn-out again from work and, almost instinctively, made her way to the living room to check on her.

"Have you eaten?" Wanda asked, surprising herself with the initiation of the conversation, as such exchanges had been rare lately.

"I lost track of time and I haven't eaten since breakfast. There's just too much to do at work right now before the holidays," Natasha responded with a weary voice.

Nodding understandingly, Wanda headed to the kitchen and began preparing a light meal for Natasha before she headed to bed.

"You don't have to, I can just make something from the fridge or heat up something," Natasha protested, watching Wanda busy with ingredients.

"Just sit there while I make dinner for you," Wanda insisted, deciding on French toast with a generous amount of honey, prepared just the way Natasha likes it. She topped it with blueberries and strawberries and paired it with a warm glass of milk to complete the meal. "I know it's a breakfast food, but it's the best I can do in a few minutes and it's your favorite."

Natasha looked down at the plate offered by Wanda and gave a small smile of appreciation. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Wanda offered a warm smile and was about to leave the kitchen when Natasha gently caught her wrist, prompting her to turn back.

"Please come to the party," Natasha implored, her voice carrying a hopeful tone.

There's a certain pull Natasha has on Wanda, regardless of their relationship status. Wanda understands that when Natasha makes a request, it holds great significance. Seeing Natasha genuinely wanting her at the party momentarily warmed Wanda's heart.

"Okay, I'll be there," Wanda conceded, and the sight of Natasha's face lighting up made it worthwhile for her.

"Thank you. Thank you, Wanda," Natasha responded with a relieved voice, clasping Wanda's hand with both of hers.

"You're welcome. I'm heading to sleep now," Wanda replied, gently untangling their hands and turning to say, "Good night, Nat."

"You too, Wanda." The smile on Natasha's face almost made Wanda's heart skip a beat. She hurried to their room, trying to escape the fluttery feeling in her stomach.

***

"Are you gonna ride with me?" Natasha asked as she's getting ready to head out to the orphanage on the day of 24th. She was putting on a bit of makeup, and donning the purple bracelet which Wanda also has, but she's not wearing it today.

"Uhh, no. Yelena, she volunteered to pick me up." replied Wanda, noticing a hint of disappointment on Natasha's face. She feared that being so close with Natasha within the confines of her car might weaken her resolve and crumble down where she would end up crying and begging for them to be okay again.

Natasha only nodded in understanding and resumed with her make up. For a moment, Wanda stared at Natasha's profile, her perfectly painted red lips, curled eyelashes, light eyeshadows and a bit of foundation concealing how tired she's been looking these past few days. The two are avoiding each other, almost scared of initiating conversations as it might lead them into talking about what has just happened between them.

Wanda felt her phone vibrate and saw Yelena's message that she was on her way to their meeting place. Wanda stood up and bid her goodbye to Natasha without looking at her. "I will see you later."

The room looks super festive with Christmas decorations everywhere, like mistletoes hanging around, garlands on windows, and a massive tree in one corner loaded with gifts underneath. About 30 kids are at the party, and when Wanda sees them, she feels a bit sad because they don't have anyone else to spend the holidays with, unless they get adopted next year then that would be a fresh start for them. It also made her think about Natasha, who is always on her mind anyway. Wanda wonders how Natasha ended up here and what her whole story is.

Wanda herself knows about how tough their childhood was since she and her twin brother were left by their own mom, making them orphans. Their mother never once made an effort in finding them and once she reached the age of 18,she stopped hoping that their mother would come back for them.While lost in these thoughts, Melina came up to her.

"Ah, Wanda. I'm sorry for startling you." Milena said apologetically as she saw Wanda jump a bit.

"No, it's alright. I'm okay." Wanda reassured her and gave a polite smile.

Milena joined Wanda, taking a seat beside her and tucking her hand beneath her thighs. With a thoughtful expression, Milena acknowledged Wanda's reflections on her time in the orphanage. "You're probably reminiscing about your days here. Children come and grow, eventually paving their own paths. I make it my mission to give them the best care so they can carry the memory of being given a chance in life."

Filled with gratitude, Wanda sincerely expressed her appreciation. "You're doing wonderful, Milena. Pietro and I feel so fortunate to have found a home here. Our time at the orphanage gave us the faith to move forward in our lives, and for that, we are eternally grateful."

Milena, pleased by Wanda's words, continued the conversation, unaware of the connection between Wanda and Natasha. "I'm glad to hear that, my dear. Yelena mentioned you're studying engineering. Natalia could potentially offer you a permanent job in the firm or recommend you to other companies once you graduate."

"Thank you. I will consider that," Wanda responded cautiously but couldn't resist asking about Natasha. "By the way, how did Natasha end up in the orphanage?"

Milena shared Natasha's story, revealing, "Her parents were in a car accident. Her father passed away instantly, and her mother, though alive initially, succumbed to her injuries later on."

Wanda, saddened by Natasha's past, instinctively scanned the room for her but couldn't find her. She inquired about Natasha's age during the accident, learning that she was just 8 years old at the time. Surprised, Wanda questioned, "She's been here since she was 8?"

Milena clarified, "No, she was brought to us when she was 13."

Wanda wondered about the five-year gap but before she could inquire further, Milena stood up with a smile. "I need to check on the children. I'll find Yelena so she can hang out with you. She's probably out there harassing her sister."

As the night progressed, the children happily unwrapped their gifts and headed off to bed. While other caretakers busied themselves cleaning up the festive aftermath, Yelena approached Wanda, extending another invitation for a Christmas celebration with her family the next day.

"I don't want to intrude, Yelena. It's your family," Wanda replied hesitantly.

"Don't worry about that. You're my best friend. Please join us?" Yelena pleaded, her puppy eyes and matching pout making it hard for Wanda to resist, much like her sister's persuasive tactics.

"Okay, okay! I'll join you."

Yelena jumped with happiness. She informed Wanda that she could borrow her clothes since they were planning to have a sleepover night as well.

***

Christmas day arrives and they all gather around the table for breakfast, sporting festive red and green sweaters that Wanda finds utterly charming. However, Natasha is conspicuously absent from the group, causing Wanda some concern. Fortunately, Yelena shares her worry.

"Mama, where's Nat?"

"She's still asleep in her room, honey. I found her wide awake last night, probably around 2 AM in the living room, working for some reason and I didn't have the heart to wake her up," Milena explained.

Wanda is aware that Natasha hasn't been getting much sleep lately, and a sense of guilt creeps in, suspecting she might be the cause of Natasha's restlessness.

Yelena is about to comment when Natasha finally comes down the dining room, donning the same sweater and loose sweatpants "Merry Christmas everyone." She greeted with usual deep morning voice as she affectionately kissed Milena's head and hugged Alexei from behind. "Sorry, Mama. I didn't hear my alarm clock."

"Merry Christmas to you, honey. Sit and eat your breakfast."

As they all enjoyed their meal and engaged in conversation about their lives, Alexei shifted the discussion toward Wanda, inquiring if she was currently dating anyone. Wanda felt a twinge of nervousness and intentionally avoided glancing in Natasha's direction, fearing that they might sense what was on her mind.

"No, I'm not dating anyone right now. I want to focus on my studies," Wanda responded cautiously, keeping any details that might involve Natasha to herself.

Alexei beamed at her and offered a fatherly remark, "That's good! Studies come first. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you because of a heartbreak."

Yelena, sensing the direction of the conversation, tried to interject, "Papa.."

But Alexei pressed on with an annoyed expression on his face, revealing a piece of Natasha's past. "Natalia here had her heart broken by a girl back in college. She left her for some guy out there."

Curious, Wanda looked at Natasha to gauge her reaction, but Natasha merely rolled her eyes at her father's revelation.

"Since then, we haven't heard a peep about her dating life," Alexei continued, turning to Natasha with a playful smile, "Nat, are you dating anyone? A boy or a girl?"

Natasha rolled her eyes once again at her father's nosiness and replied simply, "I'm not interested."

Yelena, being the younger sister that she is, chimed in, "But Papa! I saw a polaroid picture of Natalia in her office."

"Am I not allowed to have my own photo on my desk now?" Natasha huffed at whatever Yelena was insinuating.

"You'd never display a photo unless someone else took it," Alexei cheerfully grumbled and teasingly raised both his eyebrows at Natasha.

"And I noticed the change in the color of the suits you wanted me to design," Yelena added with faux shock, "Papa, she's into lighter shades now."

"Natalia, my daughter!" Alexei's boisterous laughter filled the room. "Don't tell me you're wearing pinks now?"

Milena chuckled at her family's playful banter and glanced at Wanda, who sported a small smile.

"Hey now, stop teasing Natalia like that. Whether she's dating someone or not, she'll let us know, right?" Milena stared at Natasha, almost challenging her.

With a slight retreat, Natasha responded, "Yes, of course."

Milena smiled at Natasha and redirected the conversation to the coming New Year. "Anyone have their New Year's resolution yet?"

The conversation drowned into light-hearted topics and Wanda found herself stealing subtle glances at Natasha, who appeared surprisingly at ease in the company of her family. It was a comforting sight for Wanda, seeing Natasha let down her guard. Natasha's usual wariness made Wanda acutely aware of the need to read her body language or mood before daring to offer even the gentlest touch. Yet, more often than not, Natasha welcomed her affection, reassuring Wanda that her warmth had a calming effect on her soul.

As breakfast finished, Wanda insisted on taking care of the dishes, but Milena intervened, saying that Wanda was a guest and should simply relax in their home. Instead, she proposed showing Wanda Natasha's study room, where Natasha kept all her college projects. Though Wanda noticed a flicker of hesitation in Natasha's eyes, she ultimately agreed.

"This used to be my playroom, but I've repurposed it into a study room," Natasha explained, opening the door to let Wanda in.

Once the lights were on, Wanda was immediately captivated by the array of creations before her. In the middle of the room is a drawing table with a blue print still taped to it, lego sets in different types were meticulously organised in glass storage on the side while on the opposite side of the room, there is a large window giving a natural light over the miniature buildings standing on top of a long wooden table, arranged in a neat row, varying in size.

"You made all of these?" Wanda marveled, examining one of the miniature buildings closely.

Natasha nodded, "Yes, these were my college projects. I started with Lego blocks when I was a teenager. Alexei recognized my talent and kept encouraging me by getting more sets then somewhere along the way, it landed me into engineering."

As Wanda continued to explore the miniature buildings, her attention was drawn to one particularly impressive multileveled structure. Its intricate details left her in awe. "This is incredible. Is this one still functional?" she inquired, noticing a remote control nearby.

"I believe so," Natasha replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. With a flick of the remote, she illuminated the lights inside the miniature building. Wanda crouched down to get a closer look at the layout of the floors, marveling at the tiny furniture and decor. She found herself equally captivated by the design of the miniature multileveled structure. Its sleek and modern façade, despite its diminutive size, conveyed an aura of professionalism and sophistication. The exterior boasted clean lines, large glass windows, and a polished metal entrance. Each level featured balconies adorned with potted plants, adding a touch of greenery.

"Natasha, this is truly amazing," Wanda exclaimed, admiration evident in her voice. "You've done an exceptional job with these. I couldn't imagine creating something like this."

Natasha's cheeks flushed with a hint of pride at Wanda's praise. "Thank you, Wanda."

Without thinking, Wanda rested her head on Natasha's shoulder and arms naturally wrapping around her. It felt so natural being so close because they often shared hugs like this wherein they would just melt into each other's warmth. But when Natasha put her left arm around Wanda, it surprised her and made her quickly move away from the embrace as if she was burned by Natasha's touch.

"Wanda..." Natasha called out, but Wanda continued to retreat, putting more distance between them.

"Sorry, I should leave. I'm gonna find Yelena," Wanda said quickly, then hurried out of the room, leaving Natasha alone and feeling unsettled.

[dagwolf]

Recent viral images of Southwest agents getting yelled at and crying have resurfaced a valuable lesson about the nature of our economic system that’s worth examining this holiday season: the deliberate, built-in ways corporate “customer service” is set up to not only shield those on the top of the ladder—executives, vice presidents, large shareholders—but pit low-wage workers against each other in an inherently antagonistic relationship marked by powerlessness and frustration. It’s a dynamic we discussed in “Episode 118: The Snitch Economy—How Rating Apps and Tipping Pit Working People Against Each Other,” of the Citations Needed podcast I co-host, but I feel ought to be expanded on in light of recent events. Watching video after video, reading tweet after tweet, describing frustrated stranded holiday travelers yelling at Southwest Airlines workers, and hearing, in turn, accounts of airline workers and airport staff breaking down crying, is a good opportunity to talk about how none of this is natural or inevitable. It is a choice, both in corporate policy and government regulation. 

There are three main ways capital pits workers against each other in the relationship we call “customer service”:

1. Snitch economy. As discussed in Citations Needed Ep. 118, we are provided with more and more apps, websites, and customer surveys to effectively do the job of managing for management—free of charge, of course. Under the auspices of “empowering” the consumer, we are told to spy on our low-wage servants and gauge the quality of their servitude with stars, tips, and reviews. Uber, DoorDash, Fiver, Grubhub—a new “gig economy” has emerged that not only misclassifies workers as freelancers to pay them less, but hands over the reins of management to the consumer directly. This necessarily increases the antagonism between working-class consumers and the workers they are snitching on. 

2. Automation. Increasingly, even getting to the bottom rung employee to yell at is difficult. Under the thin pretense of Covid, increased labor power has exploded the use of automated technology that creates a frustrating maze to get a simple problem solved or task accomplished. Don’t go to the register, instead download the app and order. Scan the QR code, don’t wait on hold, go to our website and engage a series of automated prompts and maybe you can solve your problem. More and more consumers are being pushed away from humans onto automated systems we are told will “save us time,” but instead exist solely to save the corporation labor costs. So, by the time the average consumer does finally work their way to seeing a human, they are annoyed, frustrated, and angry at this faceless entity and more willing to take it out on someone making $13 an hour. 

One recent visit to Houston’s George H.W. Bush airport portended our obnoxious “automated” future. To cut down on unionized airport labor, all the restaurants use QR codes and require you to order food and drinks for yourself. Per usual, it’s sold as an exciting new technology that’s somehow good for consumers, but really the basic technology is 30 years old. It’s just a screen—the same ones restaurants have had for decades. The only thing that’s changed is the social conditioning of having you do all your own ordering and menu navigation. The waiter hasn’t been replaced by an iPad, they’ve been replaced by you. Invariably, it’s clunky and annoying and reduces the union jobs that airport construction is said to provide to justify soliciting public dollars. The only winner is a faceless corporation with a Delaware LLC and its shareholders living in a few counties in Connecticut and Texas.

Automation not only annoys and adds labor burdens to the customer, there is also evidence that it is a significant contributor to income inequality. A November 2022 study published in the journal Econometrica looked at the significantly widening income gap between lesser and more educated workers over the past 40 years. It found that ​​“automation accounts for more than half of that increase,” as summarized by MIT News. “This single one variable … explains 50 to 70 percent of the changes or variation between group inequality from 1980 to about 2016,” said MIT economist Daron Acemoglu, co-author of the study. Whether or not, under a different economic system, automation could be a force for good is a debate for another day. But what is clear is that, while both consumers and workers are harmed by this trend, there is a significant want of solidarity between them. 

3. Deliberate understaffing. This is a major culprit in this week’s Southwest Airlines meltdown. In parallel with the increased use of forced automation, cost-cutting corporations, facing increased labor power, are gutting staffing to its bare bones and hoping their corporate competitors doing the same will lead to a shift in consumer’s willingness to put up with substandard service and conditions, and overall bullshit. “We apologize for the wait,” the automated phone prompt tells us. Of course a machine cannot be contrite, so the effect is both surreal and grating: You’re not fucking sorry, you don’t exist. You're a recording. But now, who am I yelling at? 

...

[angelofdykeness]

shio's kind of a more difficult character to analyze than satou due to how in the background she is and also since her mindset isn't quite as developed as satou on account of her young age, but in her own way that honestly makes her even more interesting and challenging to evaluate

shio is very deliberately and effectively treated as a macguffin by the entire cast. every single character who knows her borderline treats her as an object, an objective, or at the very least a caged animal. she is constantly denied her agency by satou the same way she was denied by her mother, something shio HATES because she has a need to care for and help the people she loves. she wants to be able to fix their problems which leads to her moving proactively, which pretty much always results in something bad happening because no one has ever once bothered to teach her how to navigate the world around her. no one wants her to know how

satou wants the girl she's in love with to remain pure and innocent, not realizing how much she's taking away from shio by keeping her locked away from a world she can only see as dirty and corrupting. and by the time shio is finally free, she's lost that sense of wonder she used to have because she can only think of the person who left a permanent mark on her. nothing else matters to her anymore

[yloiseconeillants]

MAYNCIENT :: Day 10 - Promise

"I told you I'd be back for them."

Mnemosyne (angel) belongs to @hermits-hovel. The explanation of this sequence got *very* long so I'm putting it under a cut but MASSIVE ARIADNE LORE DUMP LMAO

Amaurotine social conventions discourage the expression of extreme emotions, which could make the processing of things like grief and alienation difficult when there isn't a cultural framework to acknowledge those feelings in the first place. Ariadne, who lost her brother, Midas, in an accident, has a very difficult time adjusting to his loss - most Amaurotines have only experienced death through the deliberate choice of returning to the Star, which is universally considered a beautiful and respectable event. This disconnection between the grief that Ariadne felt at his passing was at odds with the pride that she was expected to show, and she withdrew from almost every aspect of her life - stopped going to theatre rehearsals, barely showed up to her classes, avoided her friends and loved ones (there was a fairly dramatic breakup with Hades at this point after he refused to fetch her brother from the Aetherial Sea - he didn't understand why she felt so despondent about Midas' death which. Boy howdy does that become a Plot Point Later) (he did try to help but he absolutely was not equipped to do so).

Over time and with the very patient help of her mentor, Halmarut, she slowly rejoined society after graduating by taking on a student-teacher job at Halmarut's personal request. She still wasn't fully comfortable being open with other people after her withdrawal and instead developed a sort of party-girl persona to interact with others. As long as she was having Fun, she didn't have to think about everything she had lost in the meantime. She met the rest of her eventual friends and lovers in the GAP at this point, starting with Timoria, who she first met in a bathroom at a party while she was crying and Mori and Ari's woo-girl energy fed off each other as they navigated Amaurot.

Of course, new interpersonal relationships and dynamics means More Feelings and Ariadne still hadn't really ever stopped grieving so she ends up easily overwhelmed by her emotions, which caused her to act out in erratic and sometimes self-destructive ways, including the ever-green clown daughter favorite Causing Problems on Purpose. When the inevitable consequences of these actions backfire on her in small or less small ways, she tries to drown them out by escalating the FUN and attempting to block out her own memories to get through the day, first by narcotics and when that doesn't work, she pressures her friend Mnemosyne, whose literal job is preserving memories, into the experimental field of removing memories. She isn't necessarily just banking sad memories, but anything that causes her to feel what she determines is Too Many Feelings.

(yes we're doing a self-inflicted eternal sunshine of the spotless mind kind of thing uwu)

Mnemo is uncomfortable with this, as it's not really what he is supposed to be doing with his powers, but Ariadne assures him that she will eventually come back to collect the archived memories, which Mnemo preserves in a crystal he developed for this very purpose. She spends years not coming back for those memories, though, instead compounding the problem by increasingly dropping memories off with Mnemo until it becomes clear to her girlfriend, Minthe, that something is terribly wrong with Ariadne's memory. Minthe confronts Ari about this, and Ari promises that she'll go and fetch the memories from the crystal (we've been affectionately calling it Ariadne's cringe compilation crystal) (there's a playlist).

Going back for the memories had its own issues and inevitable fallout, but Ariadne did try to regain those memories and work through them with her friends - one at a time, based on what she feels she can deal with. She doesn't manage to get all of them back before the End of Days - meaning that there's a memory crystal floating around with some Very Strong Feelings that's a repeated McGuffin through the eras in blorboverse.

ok i did it i wrote up the lore huzzah thank you for reading

bonus: also also this whole thing about her brother dying is why ariadne is obsessed with death and rot and decomposition and amaurot's refusal to acknowledge what is ugly about death thank you i have written enough