#and it’s Too much time to be stuck in this fucking house

[oddyseye]

Let’s talk about translations of the Odyssey for a second, because, honestly, I’m over here sobbing over how ridiculous some of these choices are.

Every time I pick up a new translation, I hope it’ll finally capture the true grit and messiness of Odysseus, but nope, every one of them polishes him up too much, turning him into either a tragic hero or a charming rogue. Where’s the Odysseus who lies as easily as he breathes, who manipulates his way through every encounter, and who leaves a trail of ruin wherever he goes? I want the man whose brilliance is as sharp as his selfishness, whose cleverness cuts both ways — not just a hero, but a survivor who’s as flawed as he is formidable.

Anyway, I’m gonna break down the biggest mistranslations that really make me want to pull my hair out and remind everyone how different the original Greek actually is. Prepare yourselves.

Let’s start with the absolute disaster that is Telemachus and Peisistratus’ bond. Homer used the word ὁμοφροσύνη to describe their relationship, a term that’s about fucking soulmates, alright? But what do these translators do? They water it down to “just good friends” or “nice companions.” It’s about a relationship where minds and hearts are aligned — telepathic level shit, not just a handshake between two dudes. Yet these translators just gloss over the whole thing, so you get this milquetoast version of their relationship when it’s actually so much more.

Homer says: "ὁμοφροσύνησιν ἐνὶ καρδίᾳ ἐνθα καὶ ἄλλων οὐδὲν ἐπέλθομεν" ("In like-mindedness of heart, where no other man could compare.") So, Telemachus sees Peisistratus as someone he’s totally aligned with, in a way that’s almost romantic in its depth. ὁμοφροσύνη is usually used for romantic couples most often.

Then, we’ve got Odysseus and Calypso, which — oh my god, don’t even get me started on this absolute trainwreck of a translation. The term ἀνάγκῃ is used when Homer talks about Odysseus’ “relationship” with Calypso, but translators somehow miss the force behind the word. It doesn’t just mean “necessity” like they’d have you think. It means force, violence, and distress. When Odysseus is on Calypso’s island, stuck there with her, it’s not this peaceful love story where Odysseus is some willing lover. It’s a prison. There’s no choice, and no one’s riding off into the sunset together. But translations just gloss over this desperation and make it sound so much more peaceful and comfortable than it ever was. It’s forced captivity, and the use of ἀνάγκῃ screams that: “ἔνθα μὲν ἀμφ᾽ ἀνάγκῃ, τῇ δὲ θεὰ ἐρῶσά μιν ἔσχε.” (“There he stayed out of necessity, for the goddess, in her love, held him there.”).

Homer uses the same word when Odysseus describes his time with Circe: “ἀλλ᾽ ἔμεν᾽ ἐν σπέσσι λαῶν ἀνάγκῃ.” (“But I stayed in her halls by necessity.”). Again, ἀνάγκῃ shows that Odysseus's relationship with Circe is dictated by forces beyond his control. His connection to her isn’t out of love or desire, but out of a divine obligation, a situation where choice is completely stripped away. It’s not love; it’s divine manipulation. So much for romantic freedom!

And let’s not forget how Homer actually portrays the suitors and their reaction to Antinous’ violence. After Antinous, in his full rage, decides to throw a chair at disguised Odysseus, other suitors chime in, disapproving of his actions. They say things like “ἀργὸς εἶναι,” which roughly translates to “you’re acting cowardly,” and “ἀτασθαλία,” meaning “reckless.” They’re still on the same side, sure, but they can’t quite get behind the utter savagery of his actions, and it’s maddening how this detail is often glossed over in some translations. They make it sound like they were all in on the violence, but in the original text, these suitors are not all cut from the same brutal cloth, no matter how much some translators want to make them seem like one big mob.

Homer uses the word οἰκέτες to refer to the people in Odysseus' house. "οἰκέτες" means slaves, people who are literally owned by the household. But oh, what happens in the translations? We get “maids” and “servants,” as if these slaves were just there because they wanted to be, doing chores like it was a normal job. But no, they’re not “maids,” and they sure as hell aren't "servants" in the modern sense. These people have no freedom — they belong to Odysseus. The translation of οἰκέτες as "maids" completely erases the brutality of the system that Homer is talking about.

Interestingly, Telemachus, who is often portrayed as rude or immature, calls these individuals “servants” or "maids" in a more respectful manner. This is the same guy who can barely get his act together most of the time, but here he is, calling the οἰκέτες — slaves, remember — not just slaves but “ἄνδρες ἰκέτες,” which translates to "men-servants" or “butlers.” Like, hello, Telemachus! For once, he’s actually treating them like people instead of just the property that they are in Homer’s original telling. Respectful? Who knew?

And lastly, let’s talk about Penelope. Odysseus, when he finally speaks to her, he says: "ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐπεὶ καὶ σὺ μὲν ἔμπεδος ἐν οἴκῳ, ἔτλησαν δ’ ἐμαὶ ἄλγεα." ("But you, steadfast in your home, endured my sorrows."). Odysseus sees Penelope as the rock, the one who has suffered patiently in his absence. Unlike the goddesses, she’s his equal in suffering, not a forced relationship due to divine will. He longs for her, and her presence stands in stark contrast to the chaotic, imposed relationships he’s had with Circe and Calypso. Penelope is the constant, the one Odysseus has chosen — no divine manipulation, just pure, enduring love.

Anyway, all of this goes to show that translations can twist what Homer was actually trying to say — especially when it comes to the relationships in the story. It’s frustrating to see these critical, subtle moments get flattened into bland, palatable phrases. Maybe if they spent less time trying to make everything sound "noble" and more time actually getting at the grit of what Homer wrote, we wouldn’t have to deal with these watered-down, emotionless versions of The Odyssey that everyone is so obsessed with.

[eternal-love]

A NONSENSE CHRISTMAS

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!reader

Summary: Austin is your grumpy boyfriend who doesn’t like your Christmas parties. But he really does like fucking you when people are over.

Warning: smut. Unprotected sex. Oral sex (fem receiving).

Note: it’s the best fucking time of the year. And I wanted to write something for you guys as a Christmas present because I love u guys so much 🫶

Not my best work, but it’s a simple gift.

The gif is of course by @aust-een, my girl. Props to her for helping me with the gif set!!!

It was the best time of the year, at least to you it was. Even the air changed during holidays, you loved the whole concept of holidays. Your family were as obsessed with holidays as you were. Your house became your main focus during your holiday break. You lived in a small but cozy home.

You had been baking cookies when he came to visit you.

‘Thank God I don’t live with her.’ He thought as he walked through the foyer of your house. Filled with garlands and lights. After overly-criticizing your Christmas decor he smiled at the sight of you. “Hey, babe…”

You smiled at him as you stopped putting sprinkles on the cookies. You rushed to him, wrapping your arms around him.

“I thought you wouldn’t come and see me.” You smiled up at him, taking in the scent of his cologne.

“I wouldn’t miss it. And I also brought you what you asked for.” Austin said as he lifted up a bag of chocolate chips.

“God, I love you. Thank you.” You pecked his lips, but with his free hand he held your jaw there as he kissed you back passionately.

After a while, you pulled away. Time was on you, you were holding a small gathering with your girlfriends later that day. He was annoyed by that, he had wanted today to be a date-day. But of course, your girlfriends were always a priority too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the party?” You asked Austin. But then again, it was going to be filled with just women.

“Being surrounded by tipsy women? What a nightmare, baby. I’d rather be locked in the bedroom.” Austin said as he caressed your cheek.

“Rude.” You slapped his chest playfully and he chuckled. You pulled away from him and sat down on the table again, you kept decorating cookies and cupcakes.

“I’m going to lay down in your bed, and watch some shitty tv. While your stupid friends and you watch Home Alone or whatever.” Austin told you, he took a seat right by your side. He reached out for a cookie and shoved it inside his mouth.

The white frosting smearing all over his lips, as if trying to tempt you, he licked his lips and then his fingers, staring right at you.

“What?” He played dumb, he kept sucking his finger to lick any excess of frosting.

“You’re tempting me…” You said, before he leaned in and took your lips in his, his kisses being warm and wet. Instead of butterflies you could say you felt snowflakes, appropriate for the holidays.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the table. He was in between your legs, devouring your mouth. He didn’t even hesitate before kissing down your neck, getting on his knees and parting your legs.

“I bet you’re as sweet as the icing…” Austin muttered as he rode down your underwear.

Oh; Austin ate pussy like a starved man. Like a thirsty man stuck in a dessert, where pussy was the last drop of water.

His plump lips pecked your cunt, then with his skilled tongue, he gave you a long lick. Making you throw your head back. Your hand going to tug at his sandy blond locks. He grunted.

His tongue was skilled, he could move it in ways you didn’t know it was possible.

“Yes… just like that.” You were able to moan out. He kept parting your legs with his hands, griping your thighs as hard as he could. Probably leaving bruises.

It was like he was going down the chimney, and it felt so fucking good. You wouldn’t mind being his Mrs.

You felt yourself getting closer to your release, as your moans began to quicken, whimpering as well. You started to roll your hips forward, if only he had been laying down. You would’ve ridden the fuck out of his face and he would have allowed it, of course. If that meant tasting your cunt, drowning in it was his dream.

You tugged at his hair one more time as you really approached your orgasm. Not wanting him to stop pleasing you, you could only get aggressive.

“Just like that, yeah… don’t stop.” You were able to moan out, grinning your teeth. That’s how worked up he got you.

Austin decided that even if he felt his tongue go numb, numb, numb, he would make you finish. And after a while, you finished all over his face, again, he devoured your cum as a starved man., he pulled away from your cunt and took deep breaths. Before standing up and leaning down to kiss you, making you taste yourself.

“As sweet as I imagined.” He whispered as he pulled away slightly. He was definitely still out of breath.

You were worked up too. A bit dazed still. He had just tongue-fucked you on the table, anyone would be dazed.

“Now, that was on my wishlist.” You chuckled out, smiling at him.

“The stocking are always better on the floor anyways.” Austin smiled, oh, he was horny as hell by now. But your friends would arrive in probably less than thirty minutes. He wouldn’t risk it.

All throughout the party you couldn’t concentrate. Just knowing that Austin was down the hall, doing God-knows-what, probably jacking off while you were here, still turned on. But having to keep a straight face for your friends while they spiked the eggnog.

But at some point you couldn’t handle the ache, the desire, whatever you were feeling. So you sneakily made your way down the hall, you entered your bedroom and Austin was laying there, plain white tee on, his jeans, no shoes. Watching some shitty movie.

“Woah, what are you doing down here?” He asked in confusion, you were never one to leave your own party.

“I want you to fuck me.” You blurted out, as you were quick to start unbuttoning your dress. Austin smirked as he sat up on the bed.

You didn’t even let him speak, you were already on top of him, your lips on a battle against his, grinding against his pelvis, feeling his already growing erection.

You pulled away, he was biting your lower lip. Oh, he adored you.

“You’re gettin’ coal this Christmas.” He groaned. With your free hands, you undid his pants.

Austin was quick to discard his pants and underwear, he didn’t need them anyways. Your underwear’s gone too, the man was a magician, that’s for sure. He sure knew how to take them off.

His hard cock already teased you. Austin had a huge North Pole. And you were thankful for it. Not many women could rejoice on the fact that their man had a big dick. You were the luckiest out of your friends.

You got into position, so horny and wet that you didn’t need anything to make it enter. You were a vixen tonight, and you would take your man for a ride.

As soon as he was slowly entering you, you saw his face contort in pleasure, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Be quiet, you don’t want to ruin your fucking party, don’t you?” Austin said, his jaw clenched as you slowly sat on his cock, he was feeling the warmth of your cunt.

“Mhm…” you whimpered in response, your hands went to his shoulders as his hands went to your waist.

He was so deep in, he thought he would come just by you taking all his cock that good. You started moving your hips, rolling them, riding the hell out of Austin. Quiet moans and grunts escaped the both of you. You had to be quick, you didn’t want your friends to hear you fucking your man.

But Austin, if he could, and if he wanted to ruin your goddamn party, he would’ve fucked you until you were screaming his name.

“Taking me so well.” Austin told you and you rode him. “Poor Santa is going to know you’re a bad girl.”

He mocked your love for the holidays. You didn’t even answer, as you were too concentrated on getting off. The way your face contorted and the way your mouth was open to let out moans and whimpers only made everything more exciting. Also, your friends being down the hall. It was the perfect boost of adrenaline.

“Made specially for me. And no one else.” He moaned, his hands guiding your hips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with the old man…” he breathed out, oh, he was in heaven. “…so that you ended up being my present.”

Just him saying that pushed you to the edge, but then, with his thumb he started touching your clit. That’s when you knew you were in for a goddamn ride.

He was rough, making you moan louder than you ever wanted to. You were sure your friends heard you.

“Let ‘em hear you. Let them hear how much of a Christmas slut you are. How much you’d rather get…” his voice cracked as you rode him so well, he found himself getting closer and closer. “…fucked by your man than watch your silly movies with them.”

Another loud moan escaped your lips.

“I do rather getting you to f-fuck me…” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, your breathing on his neck.

“At least you’re warming me up.” Austin grunted, his hands went from your hips to your ass, squeezing it, making you go as deep as possible., his hips bucking up.

That’s when he hit that sweet spot.

“Austin!” You moaned, it was a pornographic moan. One that only a pornstar could do. Yet you were doing it, one calm evening when you’re friends drank hot chocolate in your living room.

Austin started chuckling, he wanted to see you try and act normal once he made you finish.

But soon enough he felt himself getting closer too. He kept bucking his hips until inevitably, he finished inside of you, you rode down your orgasm. Laying your forehead against his.

“Go back, go.” Austin said as he softly shoved you onto the bed.

No after care today. He was still very much annoyed at your Christmas get together.

“But-“ you tried to protest, you could stay here but again, your fucking friends were probably already waiting for you to go back, but they most definitely heard you getting railed.

“You organized this. A host should never leave their invites.” He said with a smirk.

Knowing that what he said was true, with wobbly legs, you tried to put on your dress and act normal. But as soon as you were going to get yo form bed again, he grabbed your arm.

“We’re not finished yet.” He told you.

Of course, it wasn’t over just yet. His package was too big to gift-wrap. He’d probably bed you a thousand more times to be satisfied.

And you wouldn’t even complain, after all, you needed that Charles Dickens like you needed air to breathe.

[martybaker]

There was only one couch

Tfw you cannot find the jayvik fic you crave so you write it yourself 🙃

I also gotta preface this with - Does it even make sense that they would have microwaves in Piltover? Do they have electricity? My quick search didn’t yield any decisive results so if you know pls lmk. Also, I don’t really know if Jayce is making any sense talking about them but in my defense, he is sleep deprived (and I am dumb and didn’t put any real research into this, sorryy)

—————————

They’ve been stuck at this problem for hours, any potential paths they managed to come up with immediately shattering after but a couple pokes of logic aimed to test the solidity of their foundations. Like bubbles popped by a child’s finger. Like heated corn kernels. Like dreams of making a difference-

Viktor’s too tired to think in metaphors.

He drops the pencil and swivels in his chair, facing Jayce who’s already draped across their shabby sofa, long legs sticking out from one end, head inclined on the armrest on the side closer to Viktor.

“What if we…err, try to like, microwave it, but I don’t mean like an actual microwave,” he waves his hands in the air as he talks, as if that would help illustrate his train of thought, “but like a device, a - an oven, that could create vibrations and …uhhh, direct the particles? Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

Viktor chuckles. He doesn’t know why he does, it’s not even particularly funny, the exhaustion must have erased any common sense of his that was left. Yet it’s…comforting to see that same exhaustion mirrored in Jayce. The same dark circles, the same bone deep tiredness weighing him down, the same look of frustration after they’ve been hitting dead ends and running in circles. It’s a shared exhaustion, just like the hard work is shared. Probably should have called it a night hours ago. They both direly need the rest.

“Ovens and microwaves? That would be your hunger speaking, I’m afraid,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane, grinding his teeth to gather the energy to push himself up onto his feet.

“Nah, m’not hungry,” Jayce mumbles. “We had those sandwiches for lunch. Or was it dinner? What time is it even?”

“Too late by all accounts,” Viktor says, taking the few steps towards the couch. He looks at Jayce, who seems glued to the couch and likely is planning to spend the night there. Viktor looks towards the door, but hesitates. The idea of the track across campus to his lodgings really doesn’t sound appealing.

It’s not even that far, the university tried to accommodate Viktor’s needs as best as they could and gave him a room on the ground floor, plus the building is the closest housing to the Engineering department’s laboratories. And yet, today it feels miles away. Damn his leg, damn all the stairs, and damn his hubris for yet again pushing his body beyond its limits, knowing fully well it will backfire ten folds and render him even more useless in the morning.

Jayce notices his hesitation, damn his partner’s bright mind too. He can read Viktor too well, he guesses the reason for his histation despite Viktor’s lack of complaining.

“Oh, do you wanna sleep here? I’ll head home, no problem,” he suggests way too readily, already hoisting himself up onto his elbows.

Viktor tsks and pushes against Jayce’s chest, pushing him back down into the couch.

“Stay,” he hisses. Jayce lives off campus, it would take him much longer to get home. Viktor’s not about to kick him out. And he doesn’t care for compassion either.

Jayce knows this, yet the man cannot help but be kind and caring, and though it irritates Viktor when it's aimed at him, it is also a quality of Jayce’s that he admires. He’s kind to everyone. Meets everyone halfway. Though at times they push too far, and Jayce lets them. Too kind for his own good.

Viktor shakes his head, trying to clean it, the stacked up piles of thoughts seem to have all spilled inside his brain and are rattling around. Rest. He needs to rest.

He looks at Jayce, who is still lying down on the couch, hands raised as if in surrender, big doe eyes staring at Viktor. Was Viktor too cross with him just now? He’s unable to determine. He pats Jayce’s knee in an attempt to smooth over his own prickly temperament.

“I just…I need to take a moment. Before I head out,” he tries. He hopes Jayce won’t insist. He is too tired to come up with reasonable arguments. He doesn’t wanna fight.

But Jayce doesn’t fight, he nods, then he bites his lip and opens his arms.

Hmm.

Viktor considers.

The couch is clearly too small for one grown man, let alone two.

Still it would be more comfortable than the chair.

And Viktor’s not averse to touch. Despite perhaps coming off as such. To everyone, except for Jayce.

It is true that he doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, especially unexpectedly. But he is human and just like for anyone else, there are moments when he would welcome touch. Moments when he finds it comforting. And Jayce is a very tactile person. He didn’t hold back from putting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder the very first day they met, and he hasn’t stopped since. There was a moment near the beginning of their partnership when someone pointed out Viktor’s (alleged) aversion to touch and Jayce panicked, apologizing profusely for making him uncomfortable, and it took days for Viktor to convince him he really didn’t mind. Because that was the truth, Viktor didn’t mind. Not when it was Jayce.

Of course cuddling on the couch was an entirely different matter.

They’ve never done that before, however, Viktor wasn’t a stranger to the comfort of a warm body next to his either.

From cuddling with his parents for warmth as a kid in one too small bed, to seeking the pleasures of a lover to relieve stress, the warmth of a body next to his was undoubtedly beneficial.

And he and Jayce are friends. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

And so Viktor slowly drops his cane to the floor and lowers one of his knees to the couch, trying to figure out how to arrange himself next to Jayce.

Jayce tries to help but it takes some maneuvering, what with Viktor’s leg and their sleep deprived brains, there are a couple of winces and pointy elbows and just way too many limbs, an “Oof” from Jayce when he earns a knee to his stomach, but eventually Viktor finds himself situated with his back against the back of the couch, his head on Jayce’s chest, right leg on top.

It’s…it’s warm.

It’s nice.

It’s not a big deal.

“Okay?” Jayce checks.

Viktor hums. He can hear Jayce’s heartbeat, feel his breath on his forehead. Smell the musk, the odor of an unshowered body, but he has no right to complain, they both haven’t showered for however many hours or days they’ve been locked in here.

Jayce’s heartbeat and breathing slows, but Viktor cannot slow his racing thoughts. He can feel every point of contact where their bodies are touching. He can feel Jayce’s muscular chest moving under his hand. Jayce’s right hand briefly pets Viktor’s hair before it settles on top of his shoulders. Viktor fights against the urge to burrow closer, to inhale Jayce’s smell, to tug his hand back into Viktor’s hair.

Stupid sleep deprived brain. Viktor could have figured such close proximity to a warm body would reduce him to animal instincts. He can only be glad he’s way too sleepy for his nether parts to react as well.

Jayce feels his restlessness. How could he not, pressed so close.

“Viktor,” he whispers, warm breath tickling Viktor’s forehead and despite himself Viktor exhales and melts against that strong chest even more. “You can rest, V, I’ll wake you in a couple of minutes and walk you home.”

My ass you will, Viktor thinks, we’re both gonna fall asleep here, your right side will be completely numb and my back will be killing me tomorrow. He’ll barely be able to stand. But he’s too tired and too comfortable to say any of that now. It’s a Tomorrow Viktor’s problem anyways. This Viktor burrow’s closer against Jayce’s chest, letting all his worries and all the problems fade, falling into the sweet embrace of sleep.

[elflutter]

— the last day

joel miller x f!reader

synopsis

It was the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday the last time he saw you. If he had known it was the last time, he would have spent hours drinking in the sight of you like fine wine. Never would have let you leave for work. Maybe that day would’ve wound up different. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost both his girls—maybe he wouldn’t have lost either.

wordcount: 1.2k — ao3 | masterlist | fic notifs

tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, joel's pov, angst, abiguous but unhappy ending, brief smut (unprotected piv), established past relationship | inspired by this screenshot for @iamasaddie's writing challenge

It was the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday the last time he saw you. Woken by your soft whisper of good morning, birthday boy against his lips. Cradled you in his arms, peppered your skin with sleepy kisses before he took his time in capturing your mouth, gentle and slow. It was your favorite way to start the day. His favorite, too. Seeing you, radiant skin drenched in the warmth of early morning sun.

If he had known it was the last time, he would have spent hours drinking in the sight of you like fine wine. Never would have let you leave for work. Maybe that day would’ve wound up different. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost both his girls—maybe he wouldn’t have lost either.

But you urged him downstairs with a smile. Voice sweet and lilting, “I’ll be down soon, cowboy.” The scent of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen lured him out of bed with the promise of a homemade breakfast shared with you.

Tommy had dropped Sarah off at school, so it was just the two of you in the house. Schedules packed with work and family and Sarah, moments shared alone were few and far between. You swore up and down that you didn’t mind, always knew Sarah came first. That you understood. Told Joel not to worry about it. And he knew you meant every word. But a gnawing guilt clawed at Joel’s skin that you deserved better. Someone who could give you the attention you deserved—bouquets of flowers and candlelit dinners instead of affections scribbled on post-it notes stuck to the fridge and midnight takeout after long days of work.

But the way you fit into Joel’s life like a missing puzzle piece was one of the reasons he loved you so damn much. How you saved every one of Joel’s post-its, and left your own in response. How you packed Sarah’s lunch when you knew Joel was pulling his hair out over work or Tommy’s antics. How you looked at her like you knew you’d never be her mom, but you loved her like a daughter anyways.

Another year, and Joel would’ve proposed. Two, and you would’ve been married. Three, maybe Sarah would’ve had a baby sister.

The clatter of Joel’s fork dropping to his plate, he coughed around a bite of eggs as you rounded the corner into the kitchen. Traipsed down wooden stairs barefoot, dressed in a lacy black teddy. Joel’s favorite piece on you.

You stole his breath every damn time he saw you. But there was something special about how the lace hugged every curve perfectly, the confident swing of your hips whenever you’d slip it on.

Joel’s voice caught in his throat, “baby.”

That grin on your face was nothing but trouble when you asked him, “you wanna unwrap your present, birthday boy?”

He should have walked you up the stairs with his hand in yours, laid you on the bed like the priceless beauty you were, and made love to you slow and gentle. Should have whispered praise and devotion in your ear with each slow thrust of his hips.

But Joel Miller was only a man. And you both had to leave for work in half and hour. So the last time he fucked you was hard and fast against the kitchen table. His whispers were hot and dirty in your ear as you came.

“Good fuckin’ girl, that’s right baby, give it to me, come on this cock.”

He didn’t savor the hot wrap of your cunt around him how he should have, didn’t engrave each flutter of your release to his memory.

He should have shouted his love for you to the stars the last time he filled you with his come. But he didn’t know.

“Bet you want a little present too, dirty fuckin’ thing.” Hips rut into you, pushing you farther up the table. A harder thrust punctuates his gritted out, “right in here, ain’t that right baby girl?”

Your pathetic uh-uh-uh’s turn to moans of yes, yes, yes.

His last memory of being inside you was all rough edges and desperate heat where it should have been the soft embrace of adoration. He could have given that to you. On other days, he did. But on that last day, on his birthday, he was selfish with your body. Knew how you loved to be used, how he loved to use you. Still, he wishes he had been soft.

Joel fed you eggs from his fork, his come dried in between your legs. Giggling like high school sweethearts after breakfast as he wiped you clean and helped you dress for work between stolen kisses.

His hand rested on your thigh; Joel’s eyes on the highway, yours fixed on his side profile. You leaned over the center console of his truck, soft lips pressed to his, one last murmur of happy birthday with a promise to see him tomorrow, before you hopped down onto the sidewalk that led to your office building.

That night, you carpooled with a co-worker back to your place. Said you wanted to give Joel time to celebrate with Sarah. If he had pushed harder, insisted that you stay over like you did nearly every night, maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe Joel Miller wouldn’t have lost both halves of his heart.

When the world fell apart on his way back home with Tommy that night, his soul was cleaved down the middle. You, Sarah, you, Sarah, you, Sarah. He chose Sarah, of course he did. He always would. But still, he lost her. And he never found you.

He played every scenario over and over, each of your uncertain fates. He knew you’d have been brave. Knew you’d have fought like hell. Knew you would’ve looked for him and Sarah and Tommy in those first hours of chaos.

Sarah learned her love of hiking from you. You’d been holding hunting rifles since you were ten. You could have made it. But that day, and each one that followed, was a game of luck as much as it was one of skill.

Did you die alone? Shot by a soldier like Sarah? Backed into a corner by infected? How many times did you dial his house? Were your hands shaking as you dialed Joel on the landline? Did you even make it out of Austin before they bombed it to hell? Were you infected? Were you alive?

That led to one final certainty, spiked and treacherous. It kept Joel up at night, more than sheets that stank of mildew and twigs dug into his back. Shattered the one pipe-dream he could grab hold of after the worst night of his life. Even if you had made it (improbable), even if he could find you (near impossible)—survival made a monster out of Joel Miller. You would hate him now. Not a question. Not an answer to the questions he would never know. Joel stopped looking for you a long time ago, because the man you had loved was dead and broken. This was the foundation upon which he rebuilt his broken heart into one of stone.

Perhaps it made him weak, and cowardly. Perhaps it meant he’d failed you twice. His blood-soaked hands were not even fit to hold your memory for fear that it would shatter and break. Whether you lived or died, loss would be Joel Miller’s final lover. Because he had given up on you.

fuck neil druckmann + naughty dog, support palestine

a/n: uhh sorry but hope you liked it? follow @elfutter-fics for notifs!

dividers by saradika-graphics

[unknownperson246]

a/n: Izzy with a girlfriend that has big boobs (like E cup bc I be struggling to survive out here with these things) and he kind of has a thing for them. One night he takes her out with him and the band to a bar and he slowly notices that his bandmates keep staring at her boobs, and eventually (I'mma say Axl does this bc he seems like the type) Axl makes an extremely perverted joke regarding her boobs and it irritates Izzy so much he drags reader home and rails her so hard her legs are shaking the next morning. Also can you write in that he leave hickeys on her yiddies maybe..? TY have an amazing day/night 😊

Dragged:

words: 690

warnings: *smut* *rough sex* *slight praise kink* *drinking (small drinks)*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You were embarrassed everywhere you went. It wasn’t embarrassment, it was just your shyness. You had a really big chest and a more than pleasant rack. You were always stared at by men wherever you went. Many women envied you not only because you were with a man that almost every woman wanted but because you had good looks. One night Izzy took you with him to a bar the band usually went to every Friday night.

“Hey babe, what do you want to drink?” He asked.

“Whatever you want to” You smiled slightly.

Izzy didn’t reply. Izzy knew you got nervous quite a bit and easily too. Maybe it was because there were so many people around at a bar on Friday night. You looked towards Steven and Slash. You caught them looking at your chest but you didn’t mind. You were so used to being stared at by perverted men. You just didn’t have the energy anymore to tell them to back off.

Izzy heard you mumble something about Slash and Steven but decided to ignore it. Izzy did not yet realize that everyone in his band was staring at you. The first time Izzy saw Duff look at your chest he ignored it because he thought Duff could’ve been staring at something else next to you. This time he caught all of the members looking at your chest at the same time.

Once they realized Izzy noticed they looked away immediately pretending they were doing something else. Axl started to speak. Axl said a perverted joke about your chest.

This was Izzy’s final straw. He did not like what Axl said about you. He got really mad. He got irritated. Before he even said anything he grabbed your arm and walked away from the group. He started to drag you to the car.

“Izzy, what’s gotten into you?” You ask softly and not annoyed so you don’t piss Izzy off more.

Izzy didn’t respond to your question.

“You know whatever happened wasn’t my fault right?” You told Izzy.

“Axl is just a perverted man,” You said to Izzy.

“Yeah, I know!” Izzy mumbled under his breath.

Izzy didn’t say anything for the rest of the car ride. As soon as you got inside the house he dragged you upstairs. You saw a bulge from underneath just by him being rough with you.

“Get upstairs and get ready to be fucked so good,” Izzy said.

You were left speechless and just did what he asked. You went upstairs preparing yourself for what Izzy was about to do to you. You dressed up in some lingerie and started to brush your teeth and your hair. Izzy came up to you and didn’t say anything; he just started to kiss your neck.

You kept touching his hard member to have more of an effect on him. You took his shirt off and he kept playing with both of your full and round tits. He started to kiss them super hard and you could feel yourself getting wet.

You thought you would have an orgasm off of him kissing your tits alone. He removed your shirt and bra. He removed your panties and you were embarrassingly wet.

“Fuck Izzy so good” You moaned.

With your words of confirmation, he just kept going and kept going.

You played with his hair. You felt disappointed when he took his hands off your tits. He started to unbuckle his pants.

“So wet for me darling.” Izzy sighed.

Izzy stuck his cock up inside of you. As he was thrusting up inside of you he played with your chest again. You noticed four hickeys on your tits.

“Izzy so good,” you moaned.

You held onto his shoulders while he did most of the work. You heard grunts and moans coming out of his mouth.

“Rail me so good baby” you moaned.

“Such a good girl,” Izzy said, playing with your hair as he thrust in.

Once you both were finally done he railed you so good you couldn’t walk for a week. Once you woke up the next morning you could feel your legs shaking.

[lanafofana]

it was the night before christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring.... not even a little mouse.

After being read the mysterious little note vanished in a flash of fire. Lanatav frowned, the pads of her fingers that had been holding the note together were unsinged and she rubbed them together contemplatively. 

The hour was late and the room was dark and still. 

“Raphael?” She asked the silent room suspiciously. When no answer was forthcoming she relaxed a little, leaning back in her bed against the soft pillows and turning the puzzle of the note over in her mind. 

On the one hand the fiend was known for sending notes or summons at any hour of the day but they were usually much more direct. Like yanking her out of bed, pajamas and all, directly into whatever hole-in-the-dirt in Faerun he was currently lurking. 

But on the other hand he was also somewhat a slave to his own ridiculously theatrical whims. So. 

Lanatav pressed her lips together in thought before flinging aside her warm cozy duvet and sliding out of her bed and into her robe and slippers. 

The winter had been particularly brutal this year and even with all the luxury afforded a hero of Baldur's Gate nothing could seem to keep the chill out for long. With a flick of her wrist the wood in her fireplace blazed to life but the color pulled the corners of her mouth down.

It wasn't the fire of a sorcerer nor the merry flames of a wizard spell. Before her eyes the fire of the hells ate away her logs until, moments later, there was nothing but ashes. And still the fire burned merrily with nothing to keep it going. 

“What in the sweet hells?” Lanatav prodded the bright flames with her poker but all she achieved was melted iron. As close as she was to the fire, something even more curious about it was how–though it was clearly hot enough to burn and melt things– she felt no warmth from its flames. 

Considering the wisdom of her decisions had never really been a strong suit of hers so without further preamble Lanatav yanked up the sleeve of her robe and stuck her bare arm into the deepest part of the fire. 

She felt neither the tickle of flame nor the crackling of roasting flesh. When she pulled her arm back out it was just the same as it had always been. She huffed. Had she been the one to summon the hellfire? She stared at her hand doubtfully and snapped her fingers, startled when hellfire erupted from them instantly. She waved it away, repeating the cycle several times before she stopped long enough to softly beat her fist against her forehead in thought. 

She'd almost worked herself up enough into digging out her chalk and either summoning the devil directly or creating a portal on her kitchen floor and marching into his boudoire to demand answers for whatever it was he’d done when something heavy landed on her roof. 

“Oh what now,” she grumbled, cinching her robe closed tightly and donning a thick woolen cloak. Her fingers glowed with hellfire. 

Outside the snow was falling thick and heavy. In moments her cloak was covered in fat flakes that sparkled in the light spilling out from her still open door.

Through the snow she trudged, turning to look at her roof uneasily when she was at a distance to see better. Alas the night was too dark and the snow was too thick. Whatever had landed on her roof was well hidden from sight. 

“If you're an intruder I’d really rather you fucked off,” she called out, grimacing at the idea of using hellfire on someone. “If you're a creature uh,” she considered. “I might have some dried meat but you’ll have to get down before you destroy my shingles.” 

Something massive shifted in the air and moved. She felt it land behind her and, blood pumping in anticipation of a fight, Lanatav tried to whirl in place. Catching her heel on a patch of ice and feeling her feet go out from under her just seemed par for the course for how her evening was unraveling. She slammed her eyes shut and waited to be attacked or devoured or the wind to get knocked out of her as she hit the ground. None of which occurred and to her amazement she opened her eyes to find a pair of brimstone gold irises staring down at her, bemused. 

She smacked him. 

Raphael dropped her in the snow. 

“What was that for?” He demanded, looking thunderously unamused. 

Struggling to pull herself out of the snow Lanatav swore and thrust a hand towards him, wreathed in hellfire. “What did you do to me?” 

The cambion sniffed. “I gave you hellfire you ungrateful little creature!” 

“I didn't ask for hellfire,” she struggled to come up with an appropriate epithet. “Stupid!” 

He laughed, a sneering hollow sound that had sent lesser people into nervous breakdowns. 

Lanatav threw a handful of snow at him. 

It hit him square in the face. 

They both froze and then, when he spat water out of his mouth, she snorted. The snort turned into a giggle and then, while he furiously wiped white powdery snow from his face and his fine doublet, she began to howl with laughter. 

With one massive clawed hand the devil fished Lanatav out of the snow and hauled her over his shoulder. 

“How dare you!” She beat her fists against his back as a show of contrariness more than actual ire. It had to be said, the warmth radiating from his body felt marvelous after her spill in the snow. And if he noticed how she gave up hitting him and instead put her hands against his wings he said nothing, merely pushing through her ajar front door and shutting it with a snap of his fingers. 

He didn't quite dump her on the floor like he had out in the snow but only if one were to take a very generous view of the action. 

Peeling off her snow laden cloak, Lanatav remembered why she was annoyed. “I can't have hellfire, Raphael, you made me immune to its heat! It eats all my firewood and I’m left frozen solid!” She stomped over to her fireplace to find her poker and brandish the melted end at him. “Just look what it's done to my fire poker!” 

With two fingers he brushed away the offending object being waved in his face. “Anyone else would kill for the kind of power you so brazenly disregard,” he said reproachfully. 

“I don't want power, you overgrown bat!” 

Raphael scoffed. “Well then what do you want, you insipid little mouse?” 

“A warm house!” Lanatav had barely finished snarling the words when, with a snap, she was transported in a flash of light. When she blinked she stared at her surroundings a beat before rounding on the devil with another sharp word on the tip of her tongue. 

It died at the view of Raphael, Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conquerer of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune standing rather awkwardly next to a…

“Is that a Christmas tree?” 

For a very long moment nobody said anything. Raphael was still staring down his aristocratic nose at her like she was a particularly unpleasant bug he’d scraped off his shoes. She was still drinking in the sight of an honest to god Christmas tree in the hells. A lush evergreen, decorated with baubles and enchanting lights that flickered and blinked merrily. A Christmas tree in the Hells. Truly the mind boggled. 

Then the Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conqueror of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune shifted on his feet. His tail swished. He frowned at her. 

“Did you do all this for me?” Raphael blinked at her tone. His arms had been crossed but he dropped them, relaxing out of his defensive pose but with his sneer still in full force across his face. 

“Well I didn't do it for me,” he growls. 

Something suspiciously like affection stings her nose and her eyes. “You got me a Christmas tree and gave me a Christmas present.” 

Raphael watches her warily as she approaches, paying particular attention to the slap distance of her hands to his face. 

“You got me a Christmas present and a Christmas tree.” 

His wary expression is exchanged for narrowed eyes. He cocks his head to the side. “If that’s all you're going to keep saying I might as well send you back. If I wanted someone to parrot the same dull phrases at me I could have just retrieved Haarlep from whatever den of iniquity they've no doubt been squandering their time in.” 

Lanatav touches his arm lightly and gives him a crooked smile. 

“Thank you, Raphael.” 

He exhales through his nose. He looks away. His tail swishes. 

“I will amend your command of the hellfire,” he eventually mutters. 

She laughs lightly and squeezes his forearm in thanks. 

Lanatav moves away from the cambion, abandoning her slippers and uncinching her robe as she takes in the sight of the beautiful tree. The heat of hells is tempered in his palace but she still finds herself growing overly warm in her thickest nightclothes. 

When she’s close enough to touch it she reaches out a finger to tap at a delicate ornament, shiny as a tempting apple. A flicker of light draws her attention. 

“These lights are quite impressive, however did you manage to–oh!” She jerked in alarm. “Raphael!” She screeched. “You release these pixies AT ONCE!” 

[darlingsfandom]

She’s Got A Secret !

anon: L'I have a request to make about Neil, where the reader is his stepmother, she was cleaning his room, she notices that there are porn DVDs of her young, when she was a porn star, and talk to him and the rest will be a porno (obviously reader is dom and Neil is the sub)

Summary: Neil sets up his stepmom because he found out her secret and he plays along like he didn’t know.

TW: Stepcest! Swearing, Fem Dom! Age Gap.

AN: This is 100% fantasy/fiction! In no way do I condone Stepcest! This was requested .

Pairing: Older Fem Dom Reader x Older Sub Neil!

Reader is in her early 40s x Neil is 25!

This had to be a bad joke or something! There was no way your eyes were actually seeing what was in front of you. You bit your bottom lip as you held the DVD in your hand before placing it back where you found it. Your heart dropped a little before you sighed. Neil was your stepson, yes he’s old enough to be out on his own but he’s having a hard time with that and he does help around the house and when his father is out he’s extra handy around the house. He’s a sweet boy, funny and cute but after finding the dvd you started in along with an old magazine where you were the center fold in his room… it’s hard to see him in a certain light.

You didn’t mean to find any of it, you were just in there to put his laundry away when you see it sitting on the ground which was weird since Neil always took good care of his movies so you had it mind to do something nice and pick it up only to discover what it was.

“y/n?!” Neil yelled as he walked in the front door with the bags of groceries. You quickly picked up the laundry basket and carried it on your hip as you came downstairs to meet him in the kitchen.

“Neil.” You smiled softly before setting the basket back in the laundry room.

“Are you okay ? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He laughed as he put away the groceries.

“Yeah yeah fine.” You waved your hand with a little laugh before you became aware of how much he was actually looking at you. You swallowed the lump in your throat. If you wanted things to go back to normal you had to tell him, it’s not like he’s your birth son and he’s twenty five for crying out loud. You ran your hands over your stomach before you opened your mouth to speak but the words got stuck.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Neil asked putting his hand on your shoulder.

“I found your porn stash!” You blurted out before covering your mouth with your hand. Neil’s cheeks turned deep red as his eyes went wide and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean too! I was putting your laundry away and seen a movie on the floor! You care so much about movies so I thought I’d pick it up and then I seen what it was and …”

“Oh god!” He rubbed his face with his hands.

“Sweetie, I got even worse news though…” you put your hands on his shoulders. Neil looked into your eyes before he finally spoke up.

“What? It’s not like it really could be worse unless you’re about to tell me you’re the girl in the video I’ve been mast…” His words stopped when he realized how your face went soft. “I’ve been watching my stepmoms porno..” he had mixed emotions.

“Short answer, yes you have…” you cupped his face.

“Fuck! Wait how do I know you’re not just messing with me?” Neil stepped back and you tilted your head before you turned your back to him, pulled down the top of your shorts and showed him the little flower trampstamp you had. His eyes went wide. Neil had fantasies about that tattoo and came so many times on his fist thinking of it and the girl who made such pretty sounds.

“Think I’m still messing with you?” You asked over your shoulder before he walked away and sat down on the couch. Neil ran his hands over his face again before slapping his thighs and just his luck , he had a hard on. “I know this is weird Neil, but things don’t have to be weird.” You sat down next to him and grabbed his hand.

“How? How did you do porn?” He stumbled a little which made you laugh.

“It’s a little weird to explain but all you need to know is, I had fun, I made decent money and clearly I’m pretty good since my own stepson liked it so much!” You teased him making Neil blush before he groaned.

“Did… do you still make porn?” Neil was curious.

“Now? No im too old honey .”

“That’s not true! You’d be a milf!”

“MILF?” You tilted your head slightly in confusion.

“Mom I’d love to fuck..”

Neil bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down making you feel something you haven’t in awhile. Sure your husband fucked you but it never last long and you often had to think of someone else to get off. Neil interrupted your thighs by squeezing your arm. You shook your head before leaning back against the couch and biting your own lip back at him.

“Can I see your tits now? Do you still have a bush? Do you..”

“Neil!” You chuckled making him lean in closer giving you puppy dog eyes. “If I show you, don’t tell anyone!” Neil nodded eagerly before you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and took off the fabric to show Neil your tits. His jaw dropped.

“They’re so pretty! Just like in the video.” He reached forward and grabbed both of them gently before he started massaging them.

“Neil.. you shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be…”

“Please! I’ll be a good boy for you.” He pouted his bottom lip and how could you say no! You’re both adults and what Neil didn’t know is that you were in the middle of divorcing his father but that’s for you to know.

You watched Neil carefully as he massaged your tits. Neil couldn’t hold back and quickly sucked your right nipple into his mouth making you gasp. He looked up at you with soft eyes while sucking your tit. He readjusted himself so that his hips were pushing into yours as he put himself in your lap so he could push his face further into your boobs while sucking your nipples. Your fingers twirled in his hair , your arousal was pooling in your panties while Neil pushed his clothes hard on against your cunt.

“You never answered my question … do you still have a bush… mommy?” Neil smirked as he licked a sting of spit up your nipple before pulling back and looking down at your lap.

“Mommy? That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that pretty boy. Is it because you want to fuck me so bad ?” You ran your finger under his chin and Neil could’ve came right then and there. You stood up, pulled down your shorts and laid back on the couch with your pussy on display but still had your panties on so Neil could see the wet patch. Before you could even form a sentence Neil had his face buried against the wet patch, desperately licking at it. “Fuck Neil , eager boy for mommy.” You teased.

Neil rubbed his face against your cunt before pulling back, hooking his fingers into the side of your panties and yanked off the fabric before his jaw dropped.

“Oh my fucking god. Such a pretty bush! Fuck! Can’t wait to eat it “Neil licked his lips.

“Yeah? Then fucking eat my cunt!” You pushed his head down and shoved your cunt into his face. Neil wrapped his arms around your thighs as he licked at your cunt. Neil knew what he was doing, he watched videos enough to know what got you going. “That’s right baby, eat mommy’s wet cunt like a good boy!” Your hips fucked forward as Neil hummed happily , his tongue licking as fast as you could to taste every inch. “Fuck!! Mommy’s good boy” you gritted your teeth as he desperately swirled his tongue into your pussy.

Neil was in heaven! He’s often dreamed about this and not just because of the video , now that he’s knows it’s you in the video, the videos have became ten thousand times hotter. Neil was so busy eating your cunt he didn’t even realize how bad the head of his cock was leaking in his boxers. He tapped your thighs and you pulled away to look down at him.

“Are you okay baby boy?” You asked. Neil nodded quickly before he stood up to pull off his pants. A soft sigh left his lips when he felt his cock spring free. “Oh honey, look at you, your poor little cock.” You wrapped your hand around his stiff cock. To be fair Neil’s cock was bigger than his father’s and had the girth you’ve wanted.

“Hurts mommy!” He gave you a soft pout.

“I bet it does, poor baby. Since I now know what you’ve been watching….” Your fingers slide up and down the veins on Neil’s cock making him whimper. You swiped your index through the pre-cum leaking and licked it off making Neil watch in awe. “I know you won’t mind if I use you for my pleasure.” You pushed Neil back on the couch, climbed onto his lap and gripped his shoulders. “But do you want this Neil ? Because we can stop.”

Neil placed his hands on your hips, pulled you down and looked into your eyes.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” He kissed you with softness and passion. Your head was spinning at this kiss before you pulled away to see a goofy little smile on his lips. You adjusted yourself so your folds were against his cock and slowly rubbed against his cock. He sighed happily as you used him for pleasure.

You stopped suddenly before lifting your hips to hold his cock and slowly slide down on it. Your mouth hung open as his cock filled you up. You sank all the way down before allowing yourself to get comfortable. Neil was already panting since you were squeezing his cock.

“Mommy! Your cunt feels so good!” Neil praised as he laid below you.

Your lips curved into a smirk before you started bouncing up and down on his cock. Your hands rested on his chest while you bounced on his cock. The sounds of your wetness echoed throughout the room and Neil was whimpering below you, mumbling little praises of how good it feels, how amazing you are, how your moans are sinful! Both of you were panting like crazy as you dug your nails into his chest as you started to ride his cock back and forth.

“Fuck! So much better than my ex girlfriend mommy!”

“That’s right baby! Mommy knows what you need.” You kissed him while he laid there enjoying this new pleasure.

“Please let me fuck you mommy!” Neil was begging you.

“Not now baby, you’re mommy’s good little bitch right now.” You squeezed his cheeks together and Neil could’ve came right then and there again.

“Say it again mommy! I’m going to cum!” Neil was on the verge of tears.

“Aww does mommy’s little bitch need to cum? Hmm need to make a mess do you?” You swiveled your hips on his cock in a way that he’s never felt.

“Fuck please mommy! Yes I’m your little bitch!” Neil was digging his nails into your side so he wouldn’t cum.

You slowly pulled off and looked down at his wet cock. Your hand wrapped around it tightly before you got on your knees and pumped his cock.

“Say it baby, say you’re my little bitch so you can be a good boy and cum.” You smacked the head of his cock before spitting on it.

“Mommy!” Neil was a blubbering mess full of pleasure about to burst.

“Come on sweetheart, use your words.” You smacked his cock again before kissing the tip.

“Fuck! I’m your little bitch! Fuck I’m..” and before he could finish Neil exploded with cum. His cock was aching as the creamy liquid shot out onto your breasts making you gasp.

“What a good boy! Yeah mommy’s good little bitch!” You praised Neil as he squirmed and whined as he finished shooting his load against your breasts. “Now come here and lick my fucking cunt until I squirt.” You barely gave Neil a second before he was on his knees and you were on the couch with your legs spread. Your fingers ran through his cum on your breasts and you sucked them clean as Neil devoured your cunt like a starved man.

“Fuck! That’s it! Eat my fucking cunt!” You argue your back and Neil used his two fingers to slide into you which made you groan in pleasure. He had good fingering skills as well as pussy eating skills. His tongue lapped faster as you laid there enjoying the pleasure he was giving you. “Neil! That’s it! What a good boy!” Neil moaned into your cunt as you pushed his head closer and held your hand on the back of his head as you felt your orgasm building fast.

Your orgasm was on the brink and when Neil started rubbing his nose against your clit, that was it.

“Neil! Fuck! I’m cumming!” You cried out as the climax gushed out of you soaking his face. Neil desperately tried to lick up all the squirt as it splashed him. He was beyond desperate for it, everyone time he watched you squirt on the video he always imagined how it would taste and now he’s actually tasting you. Neil licked his lips as your body went limp on the couch.

“You really are good boy Neil.” You singled him back up and he stood up, grabbed your hand as he sat down next you and laid his head on your shoulder. Your fingers went through the cum on your chest and brought them to his lips. Neil slowly wrapped his mouth around your fingers and sucked gently while you used another finger to taste his cum yourself. Neil let go of your fingers with a pop before he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Am I the best boy?” He sounded so sweet.

“Yes sweetheart, the best boy! Now I know you want to cuddle but it’s probably best we get cleaned up first.” He nodded quickly before getting up to start a shower.

“Oh and Neil, don’t tell anyone about the movie.” You raised any eyebrow at him while he nodded and smiled. He thanked whatever lucky stars he had because his plan worked after all.

[all-pacas]

i have been poking at this for ages and i hate it but i am BOUND AND DETERMINED to write fluff someday so here we go:

(you might recognize the first bit, i'm pretty sure i posted it before, i've been trying to make this story work for a LONG FUCKING TIME)

-

Chase buys the ring a few days before Valentine’s.

It’s the sort of expensive, impulsive purchase Cameron likes to tease him about: trust fund brat, she called him whenever he’d come home with a new TV or one of those new iPhones, and he likes to play into it, careless with money he really can’t afford to waste, all to make her laugh and tease him in the way she does: What would you do without me? she’d asked once, spotting him twenty bucks in the cafeteria.

Nothing, he thinks. And: nothing.

He’d gone to the jeweler’s looking for a Valentine’s Day present, so he buys a pair of earrings, too. Pearl, because Cameron has been hinting, and Chase finds it easier to do what she wants.

-

Valentine’s, Cameron gets stuck with a double shift. Chase has two appendixes and assists on a laminectomy and should spend the rest of his shift on transcriptions. Except House is sniffing around the OR via Kutner and Taub, and somehow it is crucially important House doesn’t so much as lay eyes on him: Chase knows, knows he’ll take one look and know about the ring, about all of it.

He does a couple extra hours in the clinic to avoid this. Has dinner with Cameron in the cafeteria at the end of his shift: she’s tired and quiet and only has fifteen minutes to wolf down her sandwich before she’s due back in the ER. He’s wondering if he should remind her of the day — Cameron can get weird about this sort of thing — but she has to go before he can really make up his mind. Gives him a tired smile and a quick kiss. “Don’t wait up for me,” she warns.

“Because you’ll wake me up when you get home?” he jokes, hopeful.

She laughs. “You wish.”

-

He’s asleep when she gets home, late that night. Stirs when he hears the shower, but wakes abruptly when she jumps him, almost literally: straddles him heavily and nips his jaw and kisses him until he rouses: she is slippery and damp from the shower, her hair wet and heavy and cold when it falls on his cheek, his shoulder.

They make love and he thinks about the ring after. He’s sleepy but Cameron is restless after a long shift, tired and simultaneously too wound up to sleep: he tries to stay awake to keep her company. She talks about her day, about running into Foreman in the locker room at one in the morning. House’s case and his team’s all nighter and Chase doesn’t like that much: not the lull and hum of her voice recounting symptoms and gossip but the way he can hear her smiling.

“Hey,” he interrupts, not opening his eyes — “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She breaks off; considers. “It’s two in the morning,” she teases.

They had an argument last year about it. She’d first asked him out the day after Valentine’s, he maintains: Cameron insists their anniversary isn’t actually until April. One of those little things. It bothers him, but he tries not to let it. Doesn’t matter, he’d told her: of course it does, she’d said. Otherwise our anniversary would be - what. That first time?

Why not? he’d asked, half joking, enjoying the indignant flush on her face. He’d like that, sometimes. To go back through the calendar, to push back the start of their relationship and make it so: not two years but three, five, six. He hums, shifts in the bedding. “I love you,” he says, and holds his breath until she murmurs it sleepily back.

-

In the morning he remembers to give her the earrings, and Cameron is appreciative, admires them nicely. She has the day off and Chase very reluctantly gets dressed for work. Cameron has been known to raid his shirts and sweaters for herself so he’d hidden the ring in the drawer with his socks and underwear, where he doubts she’d go looking: he bumps up against it while looking for socks.

“What time are you off work?” Cameron asks when he emerges, stretched out on the sofa with a coffee and wearing one of his sweatshirts and her new earrings.

“Not too late if we don’t get drowned in add-ons,” he says absently, looking for his bag and finding it behind the sofa. And then, experimentally: “Happy anniversary.”

“Don’t start,” Cameron sighs, and he tries to parse if she is more annoyed or amused or just hasn’t had her coffee yet.

Smiling over at her takes no effort, is not a lie. “Start what?” he asks, leaning over to give her a kiss.

She hums and doesn’t otherwise answer the question, brushing her palm over his cheek, stopping to fold down his collar. “Let me know if you have to work late.”

“I will.” Straightening, he admires her a moment: Cameron’s hair is unbrushed, she is wearing pajama pants and his sweatshirt, in his apartment with no intention of leaving. “I like you,” he says, and not marry me.

She smiles. “I like you too.”

-

He leaves the ring in his sock drawer. According to Cameron, their anniversary is in April. He can wait, he thinks.

[seilon]

it’s kinda wild how quickly i start to spiral mentally and physically when i don’t leave the house for more than a day or two. remembering that this was just my everyday life not that long ago and for multiple years is absolutely wild. like it’s incredible im not in inpatient. or dead.

[caluski]

ive had a horrible fucking time this week and i keep trying to ignore it and telling myself its only bc my period is coming soon but like. my god wouldnt it be nice if it was true. if it turned out im only exaggerating and thats it

[obiwan-kenobabe]

I feel so weak and I've been pushing myself too far. I'm back to feeling weak and tired and fuzzy and lightheaded and constantly drained... I just want to feel okay again. I just want answers and I want treatment and I want to feel like myself...

[kinnoth]

Ok but think about how fucking horrible Loki would have turned if Thor had managed to become king. Like, even when they were only princes together, there was basically nothing Loki couldn't get away with: bullying the patriciate, being a flagrant wizard, spending extravagant amounts of money on absolute tat. And then, he was only the third most powerful man in the empire. With Odin gone, and only Thor who could possibly curb him? Dear fucking god.

Bc when has thor ever showed an interest in curbing anything loki has ever wanted or done

[madigoround]

Some days it feels like I am just desperately trying to find reasons to live so I don’t jump off a bridge and it’s hardly even working

Edit: I have spent some very necessary kitten cuddle time and received some very sweet messages from people and I am feeling more sane, definitely recommend nice people and cats lol

[shwarmii]

it's just me and my Homegoods' autumn leaf print in black microfiber blanket against the world

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

.

[tervenby]

for anyone out there that is in the minority of females who have like, legitimate, for example medical reasons to want to shave[for example, i have a lot of severe pain conditions and other unusual circumstances that legitimately make it better for my physical wellbeing, but i understand im just a fringe case] i just want to say like - if you feel okay with having bare blades in your house and dont want to dump thousands into supporting the female shaving industry, try a safety razor

you will genuinely save so much money in the long run and you deserve your money more than a predatory industry intentionally making shitty products does

x x