#gold nugget earrings

[nuggetearrings]

The Trendy Appeal of Nugget Earrings

Have you ever caught a glimpse of someone wearing nugget earrings and thought, "Wow, that's so unique!"? Nugget earrings, not your average piece of jewelry, have gained significant popularity in recent years. They are more than just accessories; they're a statement. Let's dive into what makes these little treasures so special.

The Charm of Uniqueness

One of the most appealing aspects of nugget earrings is their uniqueness. Each piece is like a tiny, natural sculpture dangling from your ears. Nuggets, often raw or minimally processed, retain their original, organic shapes. This means no two earrings are ever exactly the same. How cool is that? It's like wearing a piece of art that's exclusive to you!

Versatility in Style

Nugget earrings are surprisingly versatile. Whether gold, silver, or encrusted with gems, they can elevate any outfit. Imagine pairing them with a little black dress for a touch of elegance or with a denim jacket for a more laid-back look. They fit seamlessly into both high-end fashion and casual wear, making them a must-have in your jewelry collection.

A Nod to Nature

In a world where sustainability is becoming increasingly important, nugget earrings offer a nod to natural beauty. These earrings often use materials sourced directly from the earth, reflecting a commitment to eco-friendly fashion. Wearing them can be a subtle statement of your respect for the environment. Isn't it wonderful to look stylish and support sustainable practices at the same time?

The Perfect Conversation Starter

Let's be honest, nugget earrings are eye-catching. They're bound to draw attention and start conversations. Whether you're at a party or in a business meeting, these earrings can be a fantastic ice-breaker. People are naturally curious about things that stand out, and nugget earrings definitely fit that bill.

Caring for Your Nugget Earrings

Taking care of nugget earrings is crucial for maintaining their beauty. Since many are made of natural materials, they require gentle cleaning and proper storage. Avoid exposing them to harsh chemicals or extreme temperatures. A soft cloth and a mild cleaner can go a long way in keeping them shining. Remember, they're precious, just like you!

A Symbol of Individuality

In today's world of mass production, nugget earrings offer a breath of fresh air. They symbolize individuality and personal style. When you choose a pair of nugget earrings, you're not just selecting a piece of jewelry; you're embracing a part of your unique identity. They are a reminder that like them, you are one of a kind.

The Perfect Gift

Struggling with gift ideas? Nugget earrings can be a thoughtful and personal gift. Since they're so unique, they show that you put effort into choosing something special. Whether for a birthday, anniversary, or just because, these earrings can express your affection in a meaningful way.

Mixing and Matching

For the fashion-forward, mixing and matching nugget earrings can be a lot of fun. Since they don't come in identical pairs, you can play around with different sizes, colors, and textures. This trend is all about expressing creativity and breaking free from traditional symmetry in jewelry.

The Historical Significance

Nugget earrings are not just a modern trend; they have historical roots. Throughout history, various cultures have valued nuggets for their natural beauty and rarity. By wearing nugget earrings, you're connecting with a rich heritage of adorning oneself with the treasures of the earth.

In Conclusion

Nugget earrings are more than just a trend; they're a lifestyle choice. They represent uniqueness, style, and a connection to nature. Next time you're looking to add a little something special to your outfit, why not consider these little nuggets of joy? Remember, fashion is not just about following trends; it's about expressing who you are, and nugget earrings do just that.

So, what do you think? Ready to add a pair of these unique beauties to your collection? Or perhaps you already own a pair? Share your thoughts and experiences with nugget earrings in the comments below. Let's keep this conversation sparkling!

[arielsoicyjewel]

Among other timeless and cherished selections in elegant gold pendants and diamond jewelry, So Icy Jewelry has a special piece for your partner, family members, and even yourself.

[midnightwritingsessions]

Autumn walks and warm lattes

Summary: Billie and you go on an early autumn walk with shark and stopped off at a coffee shop

Masterlist

Requested

-

The autumn air was crisp and cool, the kind of weather that left your nose tingling and cheeks rosy. Golden leaves crunched underfoot as you walked beside Billie, her dog, Shark, trotting happily ahead, his leash clutched loosely in her gloved hand. The little pit bulls excitement was infectious; his tail wagged furiously as he darted from side to side, investigating every pile of leaves he encountered. “Shark, come on!” Billie called, laughing as he attempted to dig into yet another pile of damp foliage. She turned to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling under the brim of her beanie. “I swear he thinks he’s a treasure hunter or something”. “Maybe he’ll find gold under there” you teased, nudging her playfully with your elbow. “Or a half-eaten sandwich”.

Billie groaned. “Ugh, don’t even joke about that. Last week he found a chicken nugget, and I swear he’s been on a mission to top it ever since”. You both laughed, your breath forming little puffs in the chilly air. It was one of those perfect fall mornings, where the cold wasn’t biting but refreshing, and the world seemed coated in shades of amber and crimson. The quiet residential street was lined with towering trees, their branches still clinging to the last of their leaves. The gentle rustle of wind mixed with the crunch of Shark’s little paws as he led the way. “So” Billie began, her voice soft, “remind me again why I agreed to this?”.“Because Shark was literally staring at you like he was planning a rebellion if you didn’t take him out” you replied with a grin. “And because I promised you coffee after”. Billie sighed dramatically, though her smile never faltered. “Fine, fine. I guess coffee makes it worth it. But you owe me extra whipped cream”. “Deal”.

The two of you meandered through the neighborhood, talking about everything and nothing. Shark kept things lively, stopping every few steps to sniff or investigate. Occasionally, Billie would crouch down to pet him or untangle his leash from a lamp post, her laugh soft and warm as she did. It was moments like these- simple, quiet, and unhurried that felt the most special. Just Billie, Shark, and you, sharing an ordinary morning in the most extraordinary way.

Eventually, you reached the small café on the corner, its windows fogged up from the heat inside. The rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries wafted out as Billie pushed the door open with her shoulder, holding it for you as you followed her in. Shark waited patiently outside, tied securely to the post with his little sweater on, earning adoring looks from passers-by’s. Inside, you ordered your drinks, a latte for her with extra whipped cream, and your favorite for yourself. Billie added a couple of croissants to the order, insisting that autumn mornings required something buttery and flaky. As you waited, she leaned against the counter, her eyes on you. “What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Nothing” she said with a small smile. “You just look really cute with your hair all messy like that”.

Your cheeks warmed despite the cold, and you swatted her arm lightly. “Shut up”. “I’m serious!” she insisted, her laugh low and musical. “You’re adorable”. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Moments like these were what made being around Billie so easy, she had a way of making everything feel light and safe, like the world was a little less heavy when she was near.

When your drinks were ready, you grabbed them and headed back outside to Shark, who greeted you both with an excited bark. Billie handed you her coffee to hold while she crouched down to pet him. “Miss me, little dude?” she asked, ruffling his ears.

You handed her drink back, and the three of you continued on your way, heading toward the nearby dog park. It was a small but well-kept space, with plenty of room for Shark to run around. The park was busy, filled with other dog owners and their pups, and Shark wasted no time diving into the action, sniffing at new friends and chasing after an enthusiastic Golden Retriever. Billie leaned against the fence, her coffee in one hand, the other tucked into her jacket pocket. She watched Shark with a soft smile, her beanie slightly askew from the wind. “He’s so happy” she murmured, almost to herself.

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing hers. “He’s not the only one”. She glanced at you, her cheeks pink, not just from the cold, you thought. “Yeah” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a good day”. The two of you stood there for a while, sipping your coffee and watching Shark play. At one point, he returned to you both, panting happily and plopping down at Billie’s feet as if to say, Okay, I’m done now. She bent down to scoop him up, cradling him against her chest. “Alright, bud” she said, her voice warm and affectionate. “Let’s head home”

As you walked back together, Shark snuggled in Billie’s arms, his little sweater slightly askew, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be. The crisp autumn air, Billie’s easy laugh, and the quiet comfort of being with someone who made even the simplest moments feel special, it was all perfect.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

What type of gifts they like

Adam

Guitar

Buy this man a new guitar, especially one he has been looking at over the last few months, and he will feel so special.

He never thinks people actually listen to him. It's why he talks all the goddamn time.

However, you buy the guitar he has always wanted, sending him to the moon and back. You are his best bitch.

Alastor

Classic Pocket Watch

He feels seen and validated with an antique store's simple gold or silver pocket watch.

He likes to talk about the time he comes from, but from the other's reactions to his stories, he feels it falls on deaf ears.

However, you show up with something very close to his era of lifetime, and he feels like a kid on Christmas.

Angel Dust

Clothes for Fat Nugget

Even though he can hand sew and make clothes for his little man, he adores it when you think of not just him but Nugget.

He always talks about either sex or Nuggs, and he feels like when people hear his sex jokes, they drown out how much he cares for his pig.

When you give him the gift, expect him to happily ask you to dress the piggy, and he wants a photo shoot.

Charlie

New Crayons

She is always dreaming and creating new ideas and posters for these ideas.

She knows she can be too overzealous with the glitter and rainbows; however, giving her just good old Crayons means the world to her.

She will happily draw you a few pictures with them to show how happy she is with this gift.

Cherri Bomb

Phone Case

Though she would love it if you broke Charlie's rules and got her some coke, she is happy you care about her other necessities.

The girl is a certified doom scroller, and if you know anything about Cherri, it's that if she isn't on the couch complaining, she is out-blowing shit up.

She is happy with the sweet, subtle gift that helps protect one of her treasured items.

Husk

Decanter

Though not Everyone supports his drinking habits, boy, is he glad you don't seem to mind.

The gift is sweet, and even if it ends up broken in the next hotel raid, he is happy to keep it on display for everyone to see. Bonus points are available if it is shaped like cards or something casino-related.

He is happy to know he is heard and validated when he opens up, even though he doesn't often.

Lucifer

A Rubber Duck

Now, this should be a no-brainer. He loves all things ducky and is excited about anything duck-related.

However, if you MAKE the duck, that is super special and will be his most prized possession.

He is happy that you listen to his hobby and find joy in the small things like he does.

Rosie

Sun Umbrella

She loves these cute little decorative pieces in a wardrobe, especially if they are gifted by a friend.

She will cherish it and show it off to everyone, including Suzane.

She will even show you how to make lace if you want to create or add to any more umbrellas you find.

Sir Pentious

Nuts and Bolts

He does not care where you got them from, who you got them from, or how you came about them.

He is excited to have more objects to tinker with and to create better inventions to impress you and others.

He loves to show you what each piece can do in the greater scheme of things.

Vaggie

Weapons

She is one of the most trusted in the hotel and enjoys having new weapons to learn to train others.

Any new weapon is super cool and functional for her to better defend those she cares about.

If you listen to this and help her find whatever the next threat may have, she will be super grateful.

Vox

Baked Goods

Man is still stuck in his fifties ways, but if you give him something homemade and filling, he will be the happiest man alive.

He already has everything he could want, but having something home-cooked/baked is perfect.

Do this for him, and he will be indebted to you tenfold for reminding him of the simple joys of life.

Prompt assistance: @literallurker

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter four a whirlwind of chaos and laughter turns into something much more when Miss Journalist and Hiori Yo can't ignore the spark between them any longer. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (if you squint) masterlist

"And action!"

The marketing manager’s voice slices through the steady crackle of sizzling chicken nuggets.

You’re back in Bastard Munchen’s pristine kitchen. Instead of lounging by the marble island sharing a plate of pot stickers with the players, you’re seated across from Hiori Yo—your favorite football player turned late-night gaming buddy.

For someone who admitted to staying up late last night (because he had to try that newly released game he’s been raving on about), he looks annoyingly refreshed. 

And, frankly, annoyingly fine.

A small round table separates the two of you, modestly set for a casual meal for two, like something out of a cozy café. The kitchen hasn’t changed much for this setup, save for the table serving as an odd centerpiece amidst its sleek, curated kitchen backdrop. The savory aroma of frying chicken nuggets fills the air, mingling with a faint whiff of rain you’re convinced is coming from Hiori.

Your "date" shifts in his seat, snapping you out of your thoughts. He flashes you an easy smile—the kind that promises everything’s going to be just fine. Behind him, the camera crew hovers, accompanied by the marketing manager.

“Hi,” Hiori says softly, his voice charming you like a spell, as if this really is some kind of meet-cute.

“Hello,” you reply, stifling a laugh. But your lips betray you, curling into a smile you can’t quite suppress.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The silence melts into shared giggles—like kids conspiring over a secret.

And maybe, in a way, you are.

“Ya look great today,” Hiori says, his gaze unwavering. He doesn’t give your outfit a once-over; instead, his eyes stay locked on your face, as though that’s all he needs to confirm your beauty.

“Thanks,” you reply, looking at your outfit consciously. “It’s nice to see you in normal clothes for once.”

Your confidence feels natural today, and you prop your head in one hand, soaking in the sight of him.

“Hmm... Ya make it sound like I wear a costume every time we meet,” he chuckles, tugging at the sleeve of his navy bomber jacket. His eyes flick away for a moment, and you catch the faintest hint of red at the tips of his ears.

Instead of his usual training jersey or the black-and-gold Bastard München kit, Hiori wears a simple black shirt beneath the jacket. It’s a casual choice that shifts his entire aura. You’ve seen him countless times, on and off the field, but almost always in his professional gear.

In your eyes, Hiori Yo has always been the football superstar—someone you interact with because of work, someone you talk to more than most because of work. Someone who probably sees you as just another face in the sea of media professionals.

But today feels different. This little illusion—the cozy setup, the way he leans into the role of your "date"—lets you live out a fantasy. For a moment, it feels like it could be real under different circumstances.

“And you,” you tease, leaning in slightly, “it’s nice to see how you’d dress for a date.”

“I am on a date.” His brows furrow slightly. “We’re on a date.” His voice is calm, his words spoken like an unshakable truth.

For a fleeting moment, he’s not a football superstar, not leagues out of your reach.

He’s just a guy across the table, someone you can picture sharing lazy Saturday afternoons with. Someone you could almost believe is sitting here because of you—and only you.

Before you can reply, Gagamaru steps in with impeccable timing. He sets down a plate of crispy chicken nuggets and furikake fries between you. The golden nuggets glisten under the kitchen lights as he places a bottle of ketchup and two cans of soda on the table.

Right. The shoot.

Just last week, Bastard München’s marketing manager emailed you about joining a new off-season content project. With the players finally on their mid-season break, the team plans a video series to spotlight individual players—to test their broader appeal to fans and potential sponsors.

Their words, not yours.

And the concept of the video you’re being invited for? A one-on-one interview styled like a date, featuring none other than their genius midfielder, Hiori Yo.

Apparently, your last collaboration—the behind-the-scenes “day in the life” video courtesy of JFA—had sparked unexpected chemistry.

It caught fans' attention, stirring days of chatter about you, Hiori, and Bastard München. It isn’t “worldwide trending,” but the buzz is undeniable. The fans just can’t get enough of the surprising, romcom-like moments between you and Hiori.

A lucky journalist interacting with one of the most elusive players of his generation. Shared moments as if it's straight out of a movie.

The dream for every fangirl.

This shoot was an experiment to explore Hiori’s broader appeal, pairing his quiet, understated charm with your relatable, approachable vibe. It’s also an opportunity to spotlight one of their more introverted players, someone who avoids the public eye as much as he can.

Your editor doesn’t hesitate to green-light the project. She’s all-in, shuffling your deadlines and clearing your schedule to make it happen. And her enthusiasm doesn’t even stop there. She nudged you more than once to “just go for it” with the charming midfielder. 

Because, as she so eloquently puts it, “What’s there to lose?”.

And now here you are, playing your part.

Your version of casual date attire: an oversized light-blue button-down (coincidentally matching Hiori’s eyes) left open over a white square-neck cami. It’s nothing flashy, just enough to look the part of someone on a date with someone they like.

“Hmmm, since this is a date, I guess I should start with some date questions,” you say, pursing your lips in mock contemplation. You pull out a small stack of cards the marketing manager handed you earlier and place them neatly beside the plate of food, within reach of both of you.

According to her, the cards are a mix of fun tweets and generic icebreakers designed to spark lighthearted conversation.

Across the table, Hiori munches on furikake fries, watching you with a small smile. His gaze catches yours mid-bite, and you feel a faint flush rise to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you decide to jump right into the questions, catching him just as he pops another fry into his mouth.

“Who’s your favorite player?” you ask.

“Easy—Mesut Özil,” he answers without a second’s hesitation.

“Favorite food?”

“Salt-grilled Pacific saury. I even like the bitter parts.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Ready Player One.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I didn’t peg you for the geek type.”

Hiori grins, a little sheepish. “Well... I am. Watchin’ it got my otaku heart racin’.”

He leans back, the humor in his tone shifting to something softer. “Shouldn’t ya know that already? I talked yer ear off about Warhammer last time we played together.” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing away as though embarrassed by the admission.

You blink, caught completely off guard. “I didn’t realize it was at that level. I just thought, ‘Oh, Hiori's talking about his interests, that’s cool.’ I didn’t even know what Warhammer was until you brought it up.” You tighten your lips into a sheepish grin, waving your hands in exaggerated defense.

Hiori chuckles, shaking his head.

The moment is interrupted by a sharp cough off-screen. Both of you whip your heads toward the sound, eyes landing on someone in the crew.

“You guys play games together off hours?” someone asks, voice edged with curiosity.

“Yes?” you and Hiori answer simultaneously, far too quickly. Your voices carry the same nervous uncertainty, the shared “yes” echoing awkwardly between you and Hiori.

A beat of silence stretches, and you can feel the marketing manager’s eyes darting between the two of you, brimming with a curiosity you’re sure they won’t voice—at least not now.

As the buzz of the set picks up again, Hiori leans closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Guess we’re both not so good at keepin’ secrets, huh?”

You clear your throat and push forward with the next question.

“What’s your strength?”

“As a person or as a player?”

You pause briefly. “Both, if you can.”

He leans back, thoughtful. “I guess… my ability to see things from a broader perspective.”

“And your weakness?”

“Playin’ too much.” He shrugs lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up in it, I lose motivation for other stuff.”

You’re about to fire off another question when he raises a hand, laughing. “Whoa, slow down! This’s startin’ to feel like a job interview.”

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Oh, sorry! Force of habit—y’know, journalist mode.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your soda to cover your embarrassment.

Hiori gives you a honest to goodness smile, as if amused. “So, this’s ya gettin’ to know me, huh?”

You set the cards down with a huff, deciding to switch gears. Inhaling deeply, you exhale a dramatic sigh. “Soooo… what’s your type?”

“Type of what?” he asks teasingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Type of person, romantic partner, obviously.”

He tilts his head, giving the question some thought. “Someone who’s independent. I need space to do my own thing, especially when I’m gamin’. Ya know that already.” His gaze softens as it meets yours.

“But they should be there when it counts. Life as an athlete’s hectic—ya’ve seen how it is.”

You nod, pretending to jot down a mental note. “So… low-maintenance. Got it.”

Hiori chuckles, shaking his head. “Not low-maintenance—just someone who understands balance. And maybe someone who doesn’t mind long Monster Hunter sessions.” He smirks knowingly, and for a fleeting moment, the unspoken connection between you lingers in the air, understanding the inside joke.

Your bite your lips, trying not to smile too wide. “Well, that’s… oddly specific.”

Two months of Monster Hunter nights flash in your mind. Ever since Hiori casually suggested playing together, your evenings had been filled with wyvern hunts and co-op quests. He has an uncanny knack for strategy—always two steps ahead, always saving you when things got dicey.

And then there was that time he convinced you to try Nier: Automata. You’d never forget him backseating with a mixture of exasperation and amusement as you struggled to fend off machines as the stunning android 2B.

“No, no, dodge now! Okay, wait—parry—no, don’t roll off the edge!” His laughter still echoes in your mind.

Your expression softens as the memories linger, but you quickly rein yourself back into the present.

“Yer turn,” Hiori prompts, raising an eyebrow as if daring you. “What’s yer type?”

“Oh, uh…” You fidget with the hem of your sleeve, thinking. “I guess... someone kind, who can make me laugh. And…” You hesitate before adding, “Someone who respects my space and time, especially since I’m kind of a workaholic.”

Then, with a pointed glance, you add, “And someone who doesn’t put me on the spot during interviews.”

Hiori bursts out laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Noted. I’ll behave.”

Before you can relax and skim through some of the cards, Hiori throws you a curveball. “What keeps ya goin’ when stuff gets rough?”

You blink, momentarily stunned by the weight of the question. His eyes lock on yours, searching. For a moment, you feel yourself slipping into those deep blue pools.

“Me? Oh, um…” You shift in your seat, unsure how to articulate your thoughts.

“I think it’s knowing I can tell stories that matter—stories that connect people.” You glance away, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s kind of a cliché, I know—”

“It's not,” Hiori interjects, his voice soft but firm. His hand brushes yours briefly on the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your fingertips. The sincerity in his gaze holds you in place.

“It shows ya care about what ya do. And that’s what counts, right?”

The warmth in his voice and the light touch of his fingers send heat creeping up your neck. You let the sensation linger for a beat before pulling your hand back, pretending to tuck a nonexistent stray hair behind your ear. The gesture does little to calm your racing thoughts.

Hiori continues, his expression contemplative. “I remember readin’ yer article.”

“Yeah?” You’re genuinely surprised he's bringing it up.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softening. “The team was in a bad place back then. Greisner wasn’t even talkin' to anyone.” He chuckles awkwardly, and you catch a muffled, annoyed Oi! from somewhere in the background.

“We were playin’ like crap. Everyone could see it—fans, other teams… even us. Felt like it was us against the world.” His gaze flickers to the side, as if embarrassed by his own admission.

You hold your breath, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But then someone sent me yer article,” he continues. “At first, I thought, ‘Great, another roast piece.’ But it wasn’t. Ya didn’t tear us apart. Ya saw something in me—”

“In us,” he corrects himself, covering it with a cough.

“It reminded us someone out there was in our corner. That meant somethin’.”

The weight of his words leaves you momentarily speechless. Your hands fly to your mouth as if to contain your shock. “Wow, I had no idea... I’m just... glad I could help in some way.”

“Ya did. More than ya could possibly imagine,” he says simply, his tone carrying a quiet gratitude. “That article reminded us—even when things feel impossible, there’s always a way forward. Whether it’s in football or anything else, progress happens if ya keep trying. Little by little.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours again.

“Ya told that story.”

Your chest tightens at the honesty in his words. You nod slowly, letting them sink in. “That’s... really... I, uh... That's means a lot, Hiori.”

He shrugs lightly, a small smile playing on his lips as if to downplay the moment. “It’s just how I try to see things.”

A playful glint returns to his eyes as he adds, “Plus, without it, I guess we wouldn’t be here. On this date. Together.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, leaving a warmth blooming in your chest.

Being a journalist has always felt like existing in a strange limbo.

You’re a faceless name, sending your thoughts out into a void, never quite knowing if your words resonate with anyone—or if they even make a difference. It was that wishful thinking, that quiet hope of connection, that drove you to pursue this career despite the doubts you faced years ago.

Hearing Hiori’s words now, realizing that your article didn’t just touch lives but changed them—his team’s and his—fills you with a sense of pride and fulfillment that you rarely allow yourself to feel. It might seem small to others, but to you, it’s everything.

Your gaze drifts to him, gratitude softening your features. His earlier touch still lingers on your fingertips, a faint reminder of the unspoken connection building between you.

I wonder if this is what it feels like... to be in the right place at the right time. To have something just... click.

You clear your throat, shaking the cards in your hand. Loosening up by rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms, a big smile betrays your nonchalance over what you’ve heard.

“Okay, moving on! These are fan questions—filtered and curated, of course.”

Hiori raises an eyebrow. “Curated, huh?”

You shuffle the cards with a sheepish grin and glance at the first one. Without thinking, you read it aloud:

“Hiori, your hands look really nice. Are they soft like how they look in camera?”

Hiori chuckles, holding up his hands as if presenting evidence. “Guess I gotta ask ya.”

“Wha—?!” Your jaw drops. “Me?”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Ya’ve shaken hands with me before, haventcha? So, what’s the verdict? Are they soft?”

You laugh nervously, feeling your face heat up. “I—I am not answering that!”

“C’mon, just settle it.” Hiori laughs, holding his hands out toward you.

Hesitant but unable to resist, you gingerly take his left hand and give it a light squeeze. Your fingers trace his palm as you try to compose your thoughts.

“They’re… huh… I’m surprised. They look soft, but they’re a little rough. Probably because of football, but—”

You stop mid-sentence as Hiori’s playful smile grows wider. Realizing he’s enjoying hearing your thoughts, you let out a dramatic sigh and turn toward the camera.

“They’re soft,” you say flatly, rolling your eyes for effect.

You quickly pick up the next card, only to have your eyes widen in shock. A nervous laugh escapes you as you read it silently, trying to decide whether to skip it.

“Oh, wow. This one’s… bold,” you mutter, clearing your throat.

Finally, you muster the courage to read it out loud: “Bet Hiori is a dom.”

Your voice drops to a whisper by the end, and you dart a glance at Hiori. His expression is a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Do I… do we really have to answer this?” you ask, waving the card toward the marketing manager watching from the sidelines.

Hiori chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting into a teasing smile. “Ya already said it out loud. Too late to back out now.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I regret everything.”

Leaning closer, his voice drops to a playful murmur. “Whatcha think?”

Your head snaps up, and you feel your cheeks go impossibly hotter. “I—I am not answering that!” you stammer defensively.

Hiori leans back, feigning innocence, though his grin betrays him. “Suspicious. Very suspicious.”

Despite your flustered state, you blurt out, “Okay, fine! I guess you are a dom. An ultra sadist.” You pause for a second, biting your lip, wondering if you’ve said too much.

Did I really just say that out loud?

You can feel the heat rush to your face, but there's no going back now.

Hiori, caught mid-sip of his soda, chokes in surprise, coughing violently as he grabs for a tissue. You burst into laughter, hurriedly handing him more while apologizing between giggles.

“Sorry! Isagi told me to say it!” You point accusingly off-camera.

Hiori turns to see Isagi standing next to the monitor, a whiteboard in hand with Hiori = Ultra Sadist scrawled across it in big, bold letters. Behind him, Kurona, Raichi, and Igarashi are doubled over in laughter. Isagi gives an awkward thumbs-up, his boyish grin only making Hiori groan.

“M'going to have a long talk with him later,” he mutters under his breath, earning another round of laughter from you.

Eager to change the subject, you grab the next card, a smile lingering as you read aloud. “Ohh... This one’s fun... ‘Hiori Yo could read the phonebook to me, and I’d still swoon.’”

Tilting your head thoughtfully, you glance at him. “Now I kind of want to test that. Can you actually make a phonebook sound swoon-worthy?”

Hiori pauses in thought and sets his drink aside. His voice dips into a smooth, velvety tone as he says, “Tourist Information Center: 03-3201-3331. For general tourism inquiries, open from 9 AM to 5 PM.”

A small Oooooh escapes your lips. “That was way too good. Are you sure this isn’t your secret side hustle?” .

He chuckles, gaze soft but playful. “Think I should start a hotline? Late-night calls... reading lists... ASMR…” He pauses, his eyes flicking toward you with a teasing glint. “Or maybe something... more exclusive?”

The insinuation isn’t lost on you, and you chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, hoping the blush isn’t obvious.

“Maybe,” he replies casually in a singsong manner, his smile lingering as he props his face on his hands looking at you.

You take another bite of a chicken nugget, clearing your throat before reading the next card. “Can Hiori teach me football like he taught Y/N? Asking for a friend.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a playful grin. “Looks like you’re in high demand, Coach Hiori.”

Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, he grins. “M'flattered, but I might already have a favorite student.”

Caught off guard, you blink. “Wait, me?”

His smirk widens as he nods. “Who else?”

You feel heat rise to your face but brush it off quickly. Flipping to the next card, you snort as you read aloud, “Hiori Yo x Miss Journalist content is my new religion. Bless Bastard München’s marketing team.”

You groan dramatically. “Bless them? I think they’re trying to embarrass me!”

Hiori only shrugs, “Or maybe they’re just helping us make memories.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am,”

Letting out a small laugh, you glance at the next card. “Okay, here’s another one. Do you guys realize how much chemistry you have?”

Hiori’s lips curl into a faint smile as he looks at you. “Chemistry, huh? Whatcha think?”

Flustered, you glance away, focusing on the cards as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. “That’s not for me to say! I’m just reading the questions.”

“But yer the expert, aintcha?” Hiori leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Observing players, analyzing dynamics…”

You hesitate, heart fluttering at his unexpected intensity.

For a moment, you can’t help but notice how earnest he looks behind his boyish smile. His eyes are warm, his posture leaning in slightly as though waiting for your answer—and it makes the air between you feel charged.

“Well,” you say carefully, your voice quieter now, “I do think we have chemistry. I mean, we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t vibe, right?”

Grinning, you pick up the last nugget and offer it to him. His gaze follows your hand closely, and as he leans forward to take a bite, you forget just how tall he is and how he's able to reach you immediately,

The proximity catches you off guard, and his lips brush against your fingertips lightly. The brief contact sends a shiver through you, a subtle spark that lingers long after.

His smile widens, an innocent taunt in his expression, but there’s a flicker of something deeper beneath his teasing eyes.

For a moment, everything else fades into background.

Who knew he had such game?

But you don’t falter. Without breaking eye contact, you pop the rest into your mouth, making an exaggerated show of it. His eyes widen slightly, but that satisfied grin never leaves his face, his gaze still lingering on you as if the playful moment hadn’t quite ended.

“Y’know,” he says, settling back. “I almost didn’t do this. Not really a fan of the camera.”

“What made you reconsider?” you ask curiously, your tone light but intrigued.

“It’s work. I might get fired if I don’t do this occasionally, I guess,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck, clearly searching for a better excuse.

A loud snort from the sidelines catches your attention.

“That's bullshit! Hiori immediately said yes when they told him it’s a date with you!” Isagi’s voice cuts through the room, and he doubles over in laughter, clutching his stomach.

Behind him, Kurona and Raichi join in, while Ness and Kiyora peek from the hallway, clearly eavesdropping.

Hiori groans, muttering something about refusing to pass to Isagi in the next game unless he begs for forgiveness.

You smile, shaking your head at the chaos. 

A tap on your shoulder brings you back to the task at hand. The cameraman hands over a few more cards. With a glance at the marketing manager, who gestures for you to continue, you smile and read the next one aloud.

“I will riot if Hiori and Y/N don’t end up together. The ship has sailed whether they like it or not!”

You glance at Hiori with a mischievous smile. The urge to take your teasing to the next level is strong. You wanted to see how far this charade can go. Even if it's just for your own satisfaction.

“Wow, people are so invested. I feel responsible. How do we make sure this ship doesn’t sink?”

Hiori leans forward, his expression mock-serious, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Well, for starters, I think communication is key. Every ship needs a good captain and crew who trust each other.”

He pauses for effect, looking at you pointedly. “Think ya can handle being co-captain?”

Feigning deep thought, you tap your chin. “Hmm, I don’t know. Co-captains have to work really closely together, and I’m not sure if you’re up to my standards.”

A playful gasp escapes him. “Not up to yer standards? I’ll have ya know I’m an excellent team player. Just ask Isagi.”

You both turn to Isagi, who’s still recovering from his earlier fit of laughter. He straightens up, grinning. “Oh, absolutely. Hiori’s great—when he’s not plotting how to leave me stranded on the field.”

“Not helping, Isagi,” Hiori mutters, though his smile doesn’t falter.

The playful tension draws a chorus of cheers and mock whistles from the team. Isagi cups his hands around his mouth, yelling, “Let’s gooo, ship of the year!”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you glance at Hiori. “Looks like the crew is on board.”

Hiori chuckles, leaning back with a satisfied grin that hints at something deeper. “Then it’s settled. This ship is unsinkable.”

“You’re not allowed to say that!” you exclaim, laughing. “That’s a total jinx!”

The room fills with laughter again, the easy energy between the two of you now impossible to miss. The air feels lighter, but there’s an undeniable current that flows between you, unspoken but clearly present.

With every word, every glance, it feels like you’re navigating uncharted waters together—one small step closer to the edge, yet never quite willing to jump in.

“Miss Journalist, we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” Hiori's eyes narrowing with a suspicious gleam. He’s planning something.

“Yes?” you answer, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

He leans forward, the innocent yet sly smile never leaving his face. “So, you don’t mind me asking—who’s your favorite player on Bastard Munchen?”

You roll your eyes but keep your playful tone, already ready to play along. “That’s a tough one, but I guess... I’d have to say... Gagamaru?”

“Really? Gagamaru?” Hiori laughs, a teasing edge to his voice. “No offense, Gagamaru.”

You shrug with a mischievous grin, trying to keep up the act. 

“That’s not what other people are telling me, though.” Hiori’s eyes twinkle with something unreadable as he pulls out his phone and swipes through it, then shows you the Winstagram picture of you wearing his jersey. 

Oh, dear lord.

You groan inwardly, but there’s no escaping it now. 

“Fine! You’re... up there,” you admit, laughing but feeling the blush creeping in. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, you continue, “But I’m sure the other guys won’t be too happy to hear that.”

Hiori’s grin widens, clearly enjoying himself. “S'okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

Before you can say anything more, Isagi shuffles over with a mischievous grin and hands Hiori a card. Hiori glances at it, his brow raising slightly before that sly smile stretches across his face. 

Holding it up, he reads aloud. “Okay, last card! Due to popular demand, we dare Hiori to ask the journalist out on camera.”

Your jaw practically hits the floor. “Popular demand? Who’s making these demands?”

Hiori doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans towards you, a playful smile on his lips, his gaze locked on you. “Should I?”

You try to laugh it off, waving your hands in mock protest. “You don’t have to entertain everything they write, you know!”

But his gaze never falters. In fact, it softens, turning a little more serious, as if he’s letting a moment of sincerity break through the playful tension. “Yeah, but... what if I want to?”

Your heart skips a beat. “W-wait,” you stammer, feeling your composure slip. “Are you serious?”

Hiori tries to close the distance a bit further, the air between you both growing warmer. “Dinner. Just us. No cameras. Whatcha think?”

You blink, entirely thrown off course, and quickly turn to the crew, desperately waving the cards in mock surrender. “C-can we cut this part out? Please?”

From off-screen, the marketing manager’s voice rings out in amusement. “Nope! This is gold—we’re keeping it.”

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief filling you. “Why am I even here?” you mutter, half-laughing, half-horrified.

As the crew starts to wrap up, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The shoot has been a whirlwind of chaos and laughter—nothing like you expected. But in the midst of all the teasing and jokes, there have been moments.

Small, fleeting moments where the façade of “content shoot” cracks just enough to reveal something real. Something that makes your heart race.

And it scares you. Because as much as you’ve enjoyed... whatever this is, there’s that nagging thought at the back of your mind. This wasn’t part of the plan.

It wasn’t supposed to feel so... real.

For Hiori, it’s equally disarming. At first, this shoot was just another day on the job. But now, as he watches you—how you smile when you try to deflect a question, the way you talk about your work with such genuine passion, how you handle the “shipping” comments with a perfect blend of humor and grace—it hits him.

He’s drawn to you.

It’s not just the playful banter or the way you make him laugh. It’s the way you see things differently, the way you carry yourself with this unexpected blend of wit and intelligence, and how you’re not fazed by the chaos around you.

When you laugh, it’s not forced; it’s real. When you talk about your work, it’s not some canned response. It’s something you actually care about. He’s seen people like you before, but not like this. Not in a way that makes him feel this... interested.

There’s something about the way you navigate the awkward moments, how you’re not afraid to call him out or laugh at his expense, that makes him want to know more. It’s as if, for the first time in a long time, someone has seen beyond his persona—beyond Hiori Yo the athlete—and into the person he is.

And he likes what he sees.

As you gather your things, Hiori stands, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as if the moment has only just begun. The air between you both feels different now—lighter, yet somehow more significant.

For the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s in control, but also... a little unsure. And that feeling, surprisingly, excites him.

“So,” he says, his voice casual but his gaze never wavering from yours, “about that dinner...”

You look up at him, still flustered, but a faint smile creeping onto your lips. You try to deflect, make it sound casual. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

But his eyes are different now—softer, more sincere. “Not a chance.”

And in that moment, you see it. You see the shift in him, in the way he looks at you now—not as another journalist, but as someone he genuinely wants to know beyond the surface.

For a second, you can’t find the words. All you can do is laugh softly, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as you shake your head.

He’s not asking because of a dare or because of a camera. It’s something real, something unspoken but undeniable. And for the first time today, you let yourself stop overthinking. You let yourself just feel the moment.

“Sure, why not?”

Maybe, just maybe, letting your guard down isn’t such a terrible idea after all.

amari's notes: i was kicking, giggling and smiling alone like crazy writing this! I really think these two have a great balance—neither too shy nor too teasing, just kind of testing the waters and seeing where things go. I’m here for it! If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[aurorawritestoescape]

SURVEILLANCE

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (in established relationships with m!oc/not named)

Summary: Javier's been surveilling your boyfriend and has to listen to everything you two are saying. And doing. So one day he does something really unprofessional.

Tw: 🔞mdni smut voyeurism, m!masturbation, Javi is a little obsessed with you, dirty talk, lots of horny daydreaming, piv, threesome, dp, breeding kink, swearing, lmk if I missed something

Word count: 1,8k

A/n: gif by @azertyrobaz Thank you @milla-frenchy for helping me find the perfect gif and your undying support🫂😘

Javier is sitting at his desk in the office, fiddling with the headset cord and staring at the photo of you peeking out of a folder. He sees just the top of your head and your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes looking up and to the side at someone next to you. They’re full of love, affection and something animalistic, instinct induced. He wishes you were looking at him like that.

The DEA has been surveilling you for almost a month. Well not you but your dickhead of a boyfriend. He was one of Escobar’s people, just a middle man, but they believed that they could gather some useful information by closely monitoring him and his associates. The DEA began direct surveillance - tailing him and you, taking pictures and documenting everything. They also bugged your boyfriend’s place and could hear everything that was said and done there.

Usually surveillance was a tiring and boring process, like searching for a gold nugget in a huge pile of dirt. But not this time. Not with you involved.

When they began the operation Javier tried to stay impartial to you as well as everything and everyone connected to the target. For some fucking reason he couldn’t do that. When he heard your voice, the way you talked and carried yourself something woke up inside him. Something that was dormant and pushed out of his life, again and again. He heard your voice and remembered himself younger, longing to touch and be touched, yearning for connection, as well as passion and lust. His desires were satiated by meaningless hookups, fleeting affairs suffocated by the amount of stressful work. Javier liked it this way, as he didn’t see himself settling down for a quiet family life.

And then he heard your voice. Soft and quiet, yet powerful in its seductive beauty.

They all took shifts to listen in on your boyfriend and you every morning, day and night. Javier couldn’t miss anything as every minor detail could lead to a breakthrough. The first time you two had sex he had to listen.

To Javi’s surprise you loved talking during sex. The dirtiest phrases were flying into his ears and straight to his cock. “Si, papi! Like that, grab my tits. Oh yes, fuck me harder.” He had to adjust himself several times and couldn’t wait to leave work to visit one of his prostitutes.

The second time he realized where it was going by the kissing noises so he took off the headset and waited for you to finish. He felt dirty and creepy listening and getting turned on.

Instead he took more direct surveillance shifts following you two and that’s where another trap was waiting for him. On top of your filthy little mouth and banging body you turned out to be nice. Lovely even. You would help your elderly neighbours, look after your little sister whenever your parents asked and glow with genuine happiness playing with her in the park. He saw you talking to the other kids there, giving your warmth generously to them and his lips would involuntarily curl up in a smile. For a second or longer Javier imagined you pregnant with his child, carrying his love inside you. Your belly round under that summer dress, breasts spilling out of the neckline, ripe and ready to feed his child. He saw the moment he’d put his seed into you - your legs on his shoulders, him folding you in half by his weight, thrusting his cock deep and hard. He’d pump you full of his hot cum and leave his cock inside you for a night so it would stick. He’d have a family with you. He’d have you.

Javier wasn’t delusional, he knew you weren’t his. And you seemed to really love your boyfriend. Yet the son of a bitch surely didn’t deserve the way you looked at him.

When Javi was the one to tail you two he easily could spot the desire on your pretty face, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown out, chest heaving. You seemed insatiable, always hungry for a touch, a kiss. You’d hold your boyfriend’s hand walking down the street, rest your head on his shoulder standing in a queue, grind against his body dancing in a bar. You were gorgeous.

The nights out were the worst. You always wore a skimpy dress showing off your soft curves, or a pair of tight jeans hugging your butt perfectly. The way you danced drove Javier insane - your hips swaying with the beat, hands snaking up and down your body, touching yourself in all the places Javi wanted to kiss and lick you. He imagined being there with you, pressing his broad chest to your back, holding your waist close to him and kissing your neck, you two moving rhythmically with the music. He’d take your chin in his hand to make you look at him and kiss you, squeezing your breast and pushing his hard-on in between your asscheeks. He’d take you home and rip the clothes off you like a wolf impatient to devour a bunny. He’d suck, bite and then kiss better every inch of your sweaty body until you begged him to fuck you. He’d smirk and place his hands on your inner thighs pushing them open and lowering his face to your pussy, “Papi’ll make you come a few times first, how about that?”

Javi rubs his face as the slapping sounds in his ears get louder. He leans back in his chair and lifts the hips to ease the pressure on his aching cock. He already feels the dampness on his skin. He must have been leaking precum for some time now. You’ve been making out probably on your bed, your soft whimpers slowly hardening his cock. Javier drops his head back with a deep sigh and closes his eyes. You’re full on moaning in his headphones now and he adjusts them to hear you better. His mind tells him that he needs to stop, get out of here, have a smoke. But then the image of you appears behind his eyelids, so clear and vivid that his breathing hitches for a moment. His imagination feeds on the way you sing right into his ears and Javier sees you caged in by his own body, squirming and pleading, “Fuck me, Javi. Te necesito.”

The sounds you’re making being used by another man’s cock shoot straight to his member. He’s throbbing for you, he can already feel the pulsations against his skin.

Javier can’t take it anymore. The desire seems so powerful it burns like fire behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes and looks down at his huge bulge. His hand slides down to his crotch and he palms himself through the jeans.

“Your cock’s so big, papi! My little pussy can barely take it.”

Filthy girl! A moan escapes his lips joining the one you’re making in his headphones.

He quickly bites his lip to shut himself up. Fortunately everyone’s left for the day, but he’s still at work. Javier undoes the zipper and his cock springs out of its confines and bobs dripping on Javi’s shirt. He curses seeing a few wet spots staining the fabric. He hastily takes a hold of his weeping member keeping it head up and spreads the liquid left over the tip with his thumb.

“Rub my clit, papi, yes, like this, wanna come on your big dick,” you whine with need in your voice and Javier groans as another drop of precum beads and then slides down on his hand. His arousal mixes with anger. Why is it affecting him that much? He’s not a fucking teenager getting a boner every time he sees a pretty girl. Why did his dick take over his mind and senses? “Pendejo!” Javier lets go of his cock and gives it a slap on its side with an open palm. His stiff cock is swaying from side to side and Javi snarls watching it grow even bigger. The pain adds to the pleasure and the need becomes unbearable. He gives in.

Javier spits into his hand and starts off slow, jerking his length with short strokes feeling its hot soft skin under his calloused hand.

“Can I suck on your thumb, papi, while you’re fucking me? I miss your cock in my mouth.”

You cry out the fucker’s name after a hard thrust and then your sounds are muffled apparently by the finger in your mouth. First Javi drives away the thoughts of the other man. He shuts his eyes seeing you again in his mind but with his cock buried deep inside your glistening pussy, his balls hitting your ass as your breasts are bouncing after every slam of his hips. Javi’s mind is on fire and his hand starts moving faster. Up and down, up and down. He twists his wrist from time to time and he hears that you’re close too. He wants to jump into the abyss together with you, and listens carefully, concentrates on your breathing, trying not to miss that sweet sound, a tell of your climax hitting you. He’s heard it many times by now and imagined it even more, alone in his bed, in the shower, even with another woman. That sound pushes him over every time, makes his cock erupt on his hand or in another pussy. He's pumping his cock vigourously, roughly without pity. He hears the other man’s groans as the fucker must be close as well. At the back of his mind Javi registers how hot this forbidden threesome is. He can’t help but see the three of you in a bed together. Your body splayed over your boyfriend’s, front up and Javi’s between your gorgeous legs. Two cocks sliding into your little pussy at the same time making you whine and grip the sheets. He’d bend over to take your nipple into his mouth and after finding a steady rhythm, they’d fuck you together until you are spasming around the two cocks.

“Si, si, like that, papi,” you squeal and Javi feels his balls tighten. You make THAT sound and when you hold your breath he knows you’re coming, your muscles tight, eyes shut, hands gripping your knees to keep your legs open so he could see your pussy contracting around his cock, clit twitching, your juices soaking his dick. All he hears now is squelching noises of your pussy being stuffed full of another man’s cum and Javi snarls and comes hard, shooting his hot seed all over his jeans, hand and the cord. Globs of cum spill from his cock and slide down his length. He doesn’t care about the mess and milks it to the last drop. Javi’s panting hard, you two echoing him in the headphones. He lets go of his softening cock and stares at your folder on his desk. His mind is finally clear. He must have you.

—————

Pendejo-dumbass

Papi- daddy

Te necesito- I need you

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @ghoulettesinspace @iamasaddie @starkovli @missannwinchester @lucyisdoingfine @marysucks-blog

[luvvnai]

Unrequited Love 

rapper y/n keeps hurting chris but he cant let go

you and Chris had a very interesting situation going on you two had met at summer smash last summer your set was before lil skies and ever since then Chris was in love with you, you did to but just not enough to want something with him you didn't see yourself in a relsonship

the first time he had confessed his love you to where in your car eating McDonalds Chris had constant Butterflys when with you, the way you grabbed his arm when laughing so hard that made you curls bounce or the way you mixed gold and silver jewelry and how your braces shined when you talked out whatever you where rambling bout

you were eating your nuggets when he couldn't stop looking at you, he felt like he was stuck in a trance he had been positive you felt the way about him you let him yap your ears off cuddled with him showed him your music that haven't dropped yet always ready to pick him never making fun of him for not being able to drive, so he took a deep breath said it "im in love with you y/n" you choked on your nuggets and didn't say it back he went home and cried to nick

you loved music, being on tour, being in the studio meeting other artist anything that had to do with it honestly sometimes you felt like music was your soulmate but you felt that getting into a relationship would be too distracting and there wasn't anything you could get out of Chris but some dick in your mind which led you to be friends with some more

nick and matt tried to tell him on many occasions that this would hurt him and was doing him worse than good, but he didn't care you could have hated him but as long as he was with you, he didn't care he loved taking you shopping watching you at the studio seeing fans ship the two of you he just loved you and as bad as it sounds you loved the attention and how much he spiled you rarely you wished you loved him back but there was only room for one in your heart and music won every time

currently you and Chris where on a "break" again you felt that he was pushing a relationship on you it wasn't that you where the whole problem Chris lets his commenmnt issues onto you it made you feel untrusted and controlled you didn't like that he wanted your lo to know all yours plans for the week what time you left and got back to your house

you had done an interview at the red carpet and timothy shalmon was the interviewer you and him are very similar flirty and talkative people the fans went crazy so did Chris he went on a 2-hour rampage watching every edit watching your body language at one point he even had it up on his tv

and fans had made many edits and ship they had also shipped you and Chris but not as much as they are with timothy and Chris in fax didn't like that why would they think you and timothy looked better than you and him did you think the same did you do the things with him you also did with chris he went crazy.

chris🤦🏽

soo whats up with you and timothy? cos you seemed really happy

oh my god Chris what are u on about

nah just wondering because everyone saying you two dating

chris you always do this stuff I can't look at a guy . without you going genuinely crazy

he cant fuck you like i do tho he dont love you like i do no one will i dont understand why you wont let it be and be with me .read 2:15

read he goes to text you again typing you are in love with him you just don't know it yet 'Chris get a grip you sound insane" Chris looks over at matt on the couch "Chris this has been going on for months how many times are we going to have to tell you she doesn't love you" Chris ran his hands though his hair throwing his hair back "shut the fuck up guys you don't get it this is what happens" nick laughed "may that kind of love never find me" Chris threw one of the pillows at nick

you on the other hand where unbothered by Chris you knew no matter what you said or how you treated him he would always come back to you like a lost puppy this was a game to you see how many times you could win you took it so far to the point where you didn't even follow him back on insta but had a highlight for you named 👩‍❤️‍👨 and you hid your face in every pic

it's been almost 3 weeks since you texted Chris, he's called you and texted your multiple times, but you didn't respond and for a second matt and nick thought you were finally done with him as they had to hold their little brother all most every night it was like he was going through withdrawal he couldn't sleep barely eating even nate tried to help

but just as he started getting a little better and accepting that you were never coming back, he relapsed you texted him one night at 4 am when you were at the studio bord you genuinely forgot about the poor boy

chris 🤦🏽 . * your lo* come over imy

ill be there in ten

*yn❤️ liked message*

i missed you to baby

as calm as he sounded in the messages, he was so relieved to hear from you he ran to matts room busting through the door "matt yn just texted me can you give me a ride to her" matt sat up from his bed smacking his forehead "Chris don't go isn't this draining for you" Chris feeling irritated pulls the blanket "come one matt I need her please" matt not wanting his brother to get a uber at 4 in the morning gets up grabbing his keys "thank you" Chris says softly

he got your privet studio that had a gate in the front that needed a code to get in he texted you to come open it matt saw you walk out the building in a white tan top and long gray short to the gate this being the first time he'd seen you since rolling loud you walking to the car as Chris rolled down his window hey you can just drop him off here the inside is full Chris walked out the car hugging you

you didn't really hug him back just kinda sat there this pained matt knowing how hugs where Chris's love language "so how long you need him till you go ghost again" his mattaude sticking out very hard Chris shots him a look you as you smile at matt "idk ill drop him off when I'm done with him" you say as you walk away Chris quick to follow you

you and chris get into your studio he sits on the office chair and sits you on his lap rapping his arms around your waist and his head into your neck "I missed you baby" you put your hands in his hair rubbing his scalp "you wanna here this new song i just made" he lifts his head up "mhmm" you tap around on your computer and play a song https://open.spotify.com/search/the%20cut ( please just act like a girl sings it)

in the middle of the song Chris picks you up placing you onto the table kissing you he pulls you into a kiss he knows he shouldn't be doing this and that he will be hurt but there is that side of him that truly thinks he can change you and maybe one day you will love him back, he kisses down your neck starting to leave Hickeys as you pull onto his hair Chris no hickeys I have a show next week

he Growns onto your neck as he listens to you pulling your shirt off and going for your tittes sucking on one as he toys with your other nipple pinching and slapping it, he moves down kissing your belly and pulling your shorts off he sits back down into the chair as your heat sits perfectly Infront of him he kisses and bites your inner thigh pulling you panties off and blowing into your clit

Chris, you whine like music to his ears he loves the way his names sound so perfect in your mouth when you pull him by his hair into you, he happily follows diving into you rapping his hands around your thighs putting them over his shoulders

you moaned out as you felt him spell something on your clit Christopher that's when it hit him, he didn't care how many times you ghosted him or didn't say you loved him back this was his favorite place he would go through all that pain all over again if it meant ending up in-between your legs

[basil--and--sage]

first hc that comes to mind for each dwarf. no second thoughts only first ones allowed

anyways kili ate rocks as a kid! (i've seen some people call dwarflings pebbles. fili made fun of him for cannibalism for a bit)

"anyways kili ate rocks as a kid" <- lmaoooo, new favourite headcanon! I saw him more as an earthworm eater, but rocks work, too, lol. And Fíli making fun of him, what a menace.

Alright, headcanons under the cut! Some are inspired by my fic, some are not. The whole thing also got longer than expected 🙈

Thorin:

As soon as he leaves the house, he is magnificent. At home, though, he's the epitome of a middle-aged uncle. Wearing ratty slippers and a wife beater, losing his reading glasses, snoring like an ogre, having weird aches, grunting and coughing in the morning, falling asleep everywhere, etc.

Fíli:

He's quite different from the rest of the family, since he's the shortest, the only one with light hair, and also lacks the Durin temper (except when Kíli insists on getting on his nerves). As a younger Dwarrow this tends to make him self-conscious, but his calm and level-headed disposition will make him a great king later in life.

Kíli:

Kíli is a lot more intelligent and observant than people give him credit for. When he was younger, he was really hurt and offended by other people's opinion of him, but as a young adult he learned to use it to his advantage to either weasel out of unpleasant duties or to learn about things he isn't supposed to know.

Fíli & Kíli (they get an extra one together):

It's always 50/50 how it will go with these two. On the one hand, Kíli looks up to his older brother and can be downright clingy, while Fíli looks after his younger brother and sees it as his duty to keep Kíli as cheerful as he is. They look out for each other, have a lot of shared interests, love spending time with each other and always have each other's back, so don't pick a fight with one of them, unless you are willing to deal with both of them.

On the other hand, Fíli chases Kíli at least once per week around armed with a slipper, while Kíli routinely threatens to throw Fíli, the shorter one of the two, into a pond or down the Dwarven equivalent of a garbage chute (and attempts to do so). About one or two times per year they have an awful row including screaming, crying and throwing things. Though, as soon as somebody tries intervene, they turn against the poor fool as a unit. After some pouting they are back to being the epitome of best friends and caring brothers. At least until the slipper emerges again.

Dís:

She has the driest humour and most of the times her older brother is her target. She teases him all the time. During her lads' childhood she also liked to feign sleep, whenever they went on a rampage, and let her sweating brother deal with it. Her best friend is Glóin's wife (in my fic she is called Máris) and they tell each other the most outrageous stories.

Balin:

He likes to tease his little brother Dwalin and tweaks his nose at least once per day, not even slightly bothered by Dwalin's murderous look. He's about 40 years older than Dwalin and actually a mix between father and older brother to him.

Dwalin:

He looks tough, but is a softie, if he likes someone. He also loves children and regretted snapping at Bain, after he came to realize, how young he still was. So he went and apologized.

He also likes to give nicknames to people. He calls Fíli nugget, since the one time somebody called the lad a vein of gold due to his hair colour, and let's be honest, the lad is more on the smaller side. Kíli is dumpling, since that one time he (over)ate a bunch of them. Gimli is dandelion, because his hair looked like a (red) mature dandelion as a toddler and so on. As soon as he's tipsy, he calls everyone sugar or sweetheart. Still, no one dares to mess with him.

Óin:

Completely unfazed, all the time. He also pretends to have lost his ear trumpet, whenever he doesn't want to get dragged into a discussion.

Glóin:

A hot head, who loves to argue about everything, mostly with Thorin, as soon as they have an ale or two too much. Then they discuss, until their heads are red, before they slap each other jovially on the back and promise to meet up more often from now on.

Dori:

He is very proper, has excellent manners, and also quite the short fuse. If you don't behave he will read you the riot act in the most devastating manner. As a tailor, he also knows no mercy, when people are dressed in an unflattering way, though he is more than willing to help, since he has excellent taste.

Nori:

After the reclamation of Erebor he turns into a phantom. No one, except for the company, has ever seen Nori or can tell what he looks like. Though, maybe be careful what kind of secrets you spill in front of the servant, he might listen more closely than you think. (What can I say, I just love Nori as a spymaster)

Ori:

He's a sweetheart and also incredible awkward around children. Hand him a baby and he will freeze, until you take it back. He is also surprisingly cunning and thus an appreciated member of the court after the reclamation of Erebor.

Bombur:

He doesn't talk much, but when he does, it usually holds water. He gives very solid advice. He's also not only a fast runner, but also a skilful dancer and no one is able to hold a candle to him in regard to stamina on the dance floor.

Bofur:

He's very nice, but he also lacks a little tact and so he sometimes gives out the most devastating back-handed compliments, completely unintentional. No one can make you cry like Bofur, since he's such a sweetheart. Though, he gets better over the years and no one is ever truly angry at him, because he owns up his mistakes and gives the most honest and heartfelt apologies.

Bifur:

He's very caring. You have a bad day? Bifur might not have the right words for you, but he will look after you and when you come home, you'll find a little something in your pocket, maybe a snack, a trinket or a slightly crushed flower. After the Battle of Five Armies and losing the axehead, for a few years he wears hats to protect the wound. Bofur has the time of his life picking them out for his cousin.

Dáin:

Fíli and Kíli call him uncle Piggy and he has a whole troop of pigs. The cuter the name, the more dangerous the pig. So, you may go and pet The Devastator, but stay clear of Little Amethyst, since she will bite your fingers off.

Dáin's son Thorin III Stonehelm:

Thorin's biggest fan. He might hyperventilate as soon as they make eye contact, which is quite surprising, since he's otherwise known to be a steadfast lad, despite his young age. Though, witnessing Thorin's uncle mode for the first time, helps a lot with that.

Did I miss a Dwarf?

Thanks for the ask! This was fun :)

[monstrousvoice]

Bedtime

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Reader

AN: Inspired by this post, I wanted to write Husk being sleepy and needing to be picked up from the hotel's bar. Fluffy and sweet! Reader’s gender isnt specified but you do use a couple of sappy, schmaltzy nicknames for Husk, fair warning

Tags: Fluff, References to Alcohol, References to Alcohol Addiction, Sappy Romantic Nicknames, Other Cast Members Mentioned, If I missed any please let me know

Summary: The Hazbin Hotel is pretty peaceful at night.

Read on AO3!

With a huff of frustration you sat up in bed, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your hands dropped to your lap as your eyes wandered the empty bedroom. The lamp light was still on, casting an amber glow over everything from the empty booze bottles still on the shelves you haven't thrown out, to the mounds of dirty clothes neither you nor your boyfriend had bothered to pick up. The clock read midnight. You look to your side, his half of the bed still empty. Still cold.

That was why you were having such trouble sleeping, you knew. You needed your nightly cuddles if you were ever going to fall asleep.

Sighing and stretching your shoulders, you stood up, making yourself look somewhat decent before you left your room. Despite the late hour you knew better than to walk through the hallways without pants on.

It was…surreal to walk through the hotel at night. When you had lived in the center of the Ring, there was always noise, always chaos. There were times you were so scared of being a target for a robbery (or something worse) that you couldn't sleep at all, only closing your eyes for a few minutes before jolting awake at the sound of a car crash and gunfire outside your window.

…But here there was nothing. Night was almost peaceful. If you really strained your hearing or went outside the distant chaos would be noticeable, but walking through red and gold hallways, the only real noise came from your fellow residents.

Sometimes you would come across Nifty scurrying around, dusting and bug hunting and muttering to herself. Sometimes Angel would get back from work in a good mood because Valentino had been in a good mood, and you could hear his favorite music playing from his room as he sang along, spinning Fat Nuggets around and around.

Even when you suspected he was sleeping, the soft sound of jazz and radio static never stopped playing from Alastor's room. You were grateful he was on one of the top floors and far from your room. You don't think your beau would be able to sleep at all knowing his Master was right down the hall.

Sir Pentious could make quite a racket when he was in a tinkering mood, but he always spent his time doing so in the hotel’s workshop and, to give him credit, he tried working on quieter projects during the night after Charlie asked him to keep it down once. Charlie herself, and Vaggie, were both pretty quiet too. The only time you could think of them making too much noise at night was one instance. They had decided to have date night at the hotel watching movies, which led to a tickle fight that had Charlie screeching in joy and sent the rest of you on red alert that she was under attack.

Both her and Vaggie had apologized out of breath and with red cheeks.

You didn't come across anyone tonight as you made your way to the lobby. The tv was off, throw blankets neatly folded on the couch. Some bits of metal and electronics were left on the coffee table, you assumed it was a project Sir Pentious had been working on before calling it a night. 

You kept walking, your destination being the bar.

It was neat and tidy as always…except for the unconscious bartender laying across it. You smiled softly as you crept closer, and the sound of soft snoring reached your ears. Husk was dead asleep on his side of the bar, his back slowly rising and falling with even breaths, wings limp and touching the floor. His head was laying on his folded arms, hands still gripping a clean empty glass and a rag. 

You hadn't mentioned it to him yet, but you were proud of him. Lately he had been opening up more to the others in the hotel, making actual friends, you dared to call them. And with that change came a change in Husk. He was smiling more, even laughing, and drinking less. It made your heart warm and gooey that he was learning to let his walls down around others besides you.

He was happier.

He wasn't gonna be happy in the morning with a sore neck and pins and needles in his legs for sleeping standing up, however.

You snuck up behind the counter, stepping over his limp tail to get closer to his warmth. With delicate precision you pulled the empty glass and rag out from his claws and set them aside. You slowly wrapped your arms around him next, mindful of his sensitive wings, carding your fingers through the fur covering his arms and shoulders. You leaned close to his flicking ear and whispered.

“Husk? It's time to get up baby…you need to get to bed.” A snort and a twitch of whiskers was your only response. “C'mon, wake up handsome~” you cooed again.

A grunt, and suddenly a golden eye was fluttering open looking around but not really taking anything in. Husk coughed, slowly pulling himself upright and smacking his lips together with a frown. You could guess his last drink was making itself known to his taste buds.

“Fuckin-Wh…where…?” He looked groggy, eyes fuzzy with wide pupils, and the fur on his cheek he had been laying on was clumped together in the cutest case of bed head you've ever seen. (Who were you kidding, every morning waking up next to him was the cutest case of bed head ever-) He gave a loud groan as he stood up, leaning forward hard onto the countertop as his legs and feet woke back up. 

“Shiiit…fuckin feet, goddam-...” He muttered and cursed some more, and you wrapped your arms around his middle to help hold him up. Even in his dazed state he tried to return the affection you were giving him, one of his hands moving to cover yours where it gripped him. His tail swished and curled around your legs as he woke up.

“Did you have one too many with Angel again sweetheart? I had asked him to let me know the next time you fell asleep here…” Your brows furrowed in concern. You couldn't really be mad at Angel if he forgot though. When he and Husk drank, they got sloshed.

“N-no…not Angel.” Husk muttered. His baritone voice was deeper than usual, sleep making it sound gravely and…well, husky. He dragged the hand not holding yours down his face, scrubbing and wrinkling his muzzle to wake up more. His mouth opened wide in a yawn, one that granted you a chance to see the rows of fangs he had hidden away in their full glory. You noticed tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the yawn ended and he licked his dry lips.

“...Was Alastor. Wanted some drinks, and when he finally left, I had his mess to clean up.” Your heart ached in sympathy. You know how much a night spent with just Alastor rubbed your man the wrong way. And the worst part was…

You couldn't do anything.

But you could do this for him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling into his neck, taking a deep inhale of his smell. You spoke again, voice muffled by his fur, but with the way his ear cocked towards you, you knew he could understand.

“-’M sorry baby. Com's t’ bed? It's com’y…” He chuckled at your muffled words, turning in your arms to hug you back. Face to face, he was able to nuzzle his own face into your neck this time. Husk took a deep breath and held it for a moment, relishing your scent before breathing hot air against you. It tickled.

“Yeah…yeah ‘m ready for bed…” He mumbled. Despite this you both stood there a moment longer. His arms were so firm and strong where they rested on your hips, and you loved the way his shoulders and back were so easy for you to hold onto. You simply didn't want to move yet. He smelled like booze, of course, but underneath that was the smell of his cheap cologne and his natural scent, and you let it envelope you entirely. Sleepy or not, you could stand here with him for eternity…

But, you figured his feet were probably killing him at this point, and you'd rather you both be comfortable during cuddle time. So, with a sigh you pulled away, but not before giving his other cheek a kiss to match the earlier one. Husk simply smiled at you, eyes hooded and soft with love.

As you both turned to make your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, neither of you let go of the other. His arm stayed firmly on your hip, keeping you pulled as close to him as possible without tripping you both. You couldn't complain, you were doing the same thing, holding him to your side to support his tired body. His wings still drooped with their weight, the tips of his feathers touching the floor as you walked.

It was a quick walk back to your shared room, kisses and ‘I love you’s being whispered as you went. You didn't even care about the taste of stale booze in his mouth when you kissed him anymore. You had come to love it in a weird, pavlovian sort of way.

When you finally got back, you shut the door behind you with a soft ‘click’, and Husk stayed glued to your side as you did so. Already his eyes were slipping closed again, and the sight had you cooing in adoration.

“You are so adorable you know that? Such a handsome face, looking so sleepy…” He pouted at your words, but the blush on his face was obvious despite his fur. 

“Shut that cute mouth up before I shut it myself-” He grumbled.

“Oh? And how would you shut it, hmm? I'm oh-so curious!” You teased him further, and giggled loudly when his response was to bury his face into your chest to hide away.

“-’m too tired for this-” He whined, actually whined, and you relented.

“Okay, okay sweetheart. I'm done, let's go to bed, yeah?” At his tired nod you stumbled your way to the bed, almost tripping on a pile of clothes in the way. When you finally reached the edge of the mattress, Husk finally let you go. He all but dragged himself across the blankets before flopping down on his side, only taking enough time to make sure his wings were tucked away safely and wouldn't get crushed. You stood still, smiling down at him.

“Not even gonna take off your pants big boy?” Your response was a tired huff. Husk laid with his face buried in a pillow, your pillow to be exact, and watched you with one sleepy eye. He held up his arms and made a grabbing motion towards you.

“C’mere doll…wanna hold you…” And if that sight didn't break your heart, nothing could.

“Hold on, let me get you situated.” Husk groaned in protest but didn't stop you as you crawled over the bed and to him. With practiced movements you undid his suspenders and popped open his pants, wiggling his clothes off him. In nothing left but his boxers, you tossed your blanket over him and finally settled down at his side.

Immediately he snuggled into you, pulling himself as close as possible to your body heat and curling himself around you like a leech. His legs wrapped around your hips and thighs, arms around your back as he buried his face into your chest.

He was asleep in moments.

Unable to stop smiling, you brushed your fingers through his fur and settled down yourself, finally feeling the sweet embrace of sleep now that your cuddly man was where he belonged.

[thus-spoke-lo]

A Ride for a Ride // slimeball taxi driver!Zoro x f!reader // NSFW [minors DNI] Written for @bastardblvd's Slimeball Collab

Summary: It's 3am and walking home from your shitty job at the diner seems like a drag, so you call a cab, hoping for a quick trip back to your apartment so you can finally catch some sleep. Your moss-haired, muscle-bound, directionally-challenged cabbie definitely gives you a ride you didn't expect. CW: scumbag!zoro; afab!reader [no gendered pronouns used]; references to sexual harrassment from a certain curly-browed co-worker; dubcon elements [reader under duress]; degradation [ex. use of slut, whore, etc]; oral sex [m receiving]; vaginal sex; creampie WC: 3.3k

It’s 3:00 a.m, and your shift is blessedly over. The crisp air outside Franky’s Flapjack Shack is nipping at your skin; your head aches and your feet are throbbing, your unsupportive sneakers that are close to falling apart barely able to keep up with the demands of the late-night post-bar crowd combined with avoiding the gropes and glances of that damn curly-browed line cook who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

The walk home feels untenable, your ankles ready to give out and a chill quickly making its way under your sweater. You sigh and pull your phone from your pocket, dialing the number of the local cab company. It would be a luxury, and one you’d probably regret indulging in since it was still a few days from payday, but anything would be better right now than trying to propel your worn-down body through the dark city streets all the way to your apartment.

And so you wait. And wait. And wait. You glance at your phone—the cab company said the closest operator was only a few blocks away, what the hell was taking them so long? You glance back down at your phone, absentmindedly watching a video of a McDonald’s manager getting decked over a wrong nugget order, when you hear—and smell—something coming your way.

An absolute whale of an old sedan shudders its way down the block, the yellow headlights dim, the tires looking like they’re just one hard turn from falling off completely. It comes to a whining halt in front of you, as the window rolls down and smoke billows out. The stub of a cigar lands on the ground in front of you, embers scattering at your feet.

You cough and sputter, waving away the smoke to get a glimpse of the person you’re already regretting entrusting with your life tonight. Through the haze, a muscled arm hangs out the open window, the sleeve of a white t-shirt straining against a bulging bicep. The smoke finally clears, and you see man with green hair and a tanned complexion turn towards you, three gold earrings swaying as he does, and your eyes flit over his face. Even considering the awful, lingering cigar stench and the ramshackle car, he could easily still be a contender for one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

“Lemme guess, you’re worried about this?” he says, pointing towards his closed left eye, a long scar running over it.

“No, I was more worried about that.” You point towards the front of his car, as streams of smoke escape from underneath the hood.

“Ah, it’s fine. Does that all the time.” He slaps the car door. “Come on, you gonna get in or did I come all the way here for nothin’?”

“It does that all the time…?” you trail off under your breath as you place your fingers on the door handle, wavering between getting on the back of this trash heap and praying to whatever gods might listen, or running back inside the restaurant and calling another cab. You glance back at the Flapjack Shack and see that idiot line cook standing at the window watching you, practically salivating, and decide to take your chances with the moss-haired cabbie rather than risk getting your ass pinched one more time tonight.

You climb in the backseat behind him and pull the door shut, giving it a few vigorous tugs before the rusty hinges will allow it to fully close. Your hands instinctively fumble for a seatbelt only to realize…there aren’t any. “Hey, so, um, how do I strap in?”

“Strap in?” He glances at you in the rearview mirror with his good eye. “What for?”

“You know what? Never mind.” You take a deep breath and press your lips together. You glance up as he fiddles with the radio, and you notice three large katanas sitting in the passenger seat, carefully secured with a pillow behind them and some sort of cushion attached to the seatbelt that holds them in place, their hilts glimmering in the neon lights from the restaurant. “Hey cabbie, uh—what are those for?”

“Call me Zoro, none of that ‘cabbie’ shit,” he grouses, loosely gesturing to the card taped to the back of the passenger seat with his name and photo. “And what are what for? My swords?”

“Yeah…”

“They’re for protection.”

“Protection from what?” you squint.

“So where am I taking you?” he asks, almost cutting off the end of your sentence as the engine revs and the car slowly comes to life again.

That’s how it’s gonna be, got it. You quickly rattle off your address as your eyes remain fixed on the swords.

“Alright, gotcha.” He chuckles, and the car stutters off into the night “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be home in no time. They don’t call me the world’s greatest cabbie for nothin’.”

You quickly fish your phone out of your bag, distracting yourself from the low hum of some weird sea shanty playing on the radio and the fact that Zoro’s gaze seems to be focused more on observing you in the rearview mirror than it does the road, as you careen around corners and run at least three red lights (that you counted). The battery ticks down and down as you scroll away, the grip on your phone growing ever more desperate as you brace yourself on the back of his seat at yet another stop sign that “came out of nowhere.” It isn’t until you start a new game of solitaire that you realize—it’s been an awfully long ride. Your apartment wasn’t that far away—the pervert line cook gave you a ride home one time and it only had to have taken about twenty minutes before you reached your apartment and your limit for terrible pickup lines.

“Hey cab—I mean Zoro,” you ask tentatively. “Are we almost there? Feels like we’ve been driving a while.”

He glares at you from the front seat as he accelerates through a yellow light. “Oh, what, are you saying I don’t know where I’m going?”

“No, of course not!” An anxious laugh exits your lungs. “I guess we’re just taking the scenic route, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is the most direct route. I drive it all the time. They don’t call me the—”

“The world’s greatest cabbie,” you echoed. “Right, right. Sorry.”

You lean your head against the window and sigh, resigning yourself to watching silently as you pass the same streetlights, the same run-down convenience store, and the same skateboarders that Zoro almost mows down again and again. The battery on your phone finally heaves its last breath, and you toss it back in your bag, wondering if it would be bad form to open the car door and simply launch yourself onto the pavement at this point—surely you’d end up with less scrapes and bruises than you’d already accumulated from his sloppy cornering and his affinity for hitting the brakes with all his might.

“See? I told you I knew where I was going,” Zoro says as he finally—mercifully, blessedly—pulls up in front of your apartment building, the car practically convulsing as it slows to a halt, a loud knocking sound coming from the engine. He taps the meter and your eyes widen—your little detour around the city was going to cost you a pretty penny, but it was better than walking alone at night…wasn’t it?

You dig through your bag, scrounging around through wadded up receipts and half-full packs of gum, and your heart starts to race as you move items around more frantically, a sense of dread settling in your bones as you come to a realization.

“Oh god I—I don’t have my wallet.”

He turns fully around in his seat, his hot, acrid breath blowing directly on you. “What the hell do you mean you don’t have your wallet? Why’d you call for a ride if you didn’t have your damn wallet?”

“Well I thought I had it! I must have left it at work.” You chew your lip as your heart pounds away under your stained corporate-issue polo shirt. “Do you take app payments?”

“Do I look like I take apps, sweetheart?”

“Just let me run upstairs, I’m sure I have cash stashed somewhere. I-I promise, I’ll come right back.”

“Oh no, honey.” Zoro shakes his head. “I’ve heard that one too many times. Some sweet little thing says they’ll pay and then I never see ‘em again. I’m not falling for that. You are gonna pay me for this ride”—he leans closer, your noses almost touching—“one way or another.”

Your trembling hands ball into fists, pressing firmly into the ripped seat cushions as your mind raced, trying to think of a solution. Running wasn’t an option—you didn’t expect that a man who carried three katanas did it just for show, and even if he did, someone with his kind of powerful build could easily bring you down like a prey animal in a heartbeat. Your gaze flits over his face, noticing a certain predatory glint in his eye, a hunger lingering on the upturned corner of his lips. A man like him, you reason, can be persuaded with the right type of offer.

“Alright fine,” you finally blurt, steadying yourself, “I can think of a way to pay you.”

He cocks his head to the side, his earrings swaying with his movement. “And that is…?”

You bite your lip shyly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes in your best approximation of a seductive glare. “Well…do you wanna move those swords or do you wanna come back here with me?”

He laughs, and gives you a condescending cluck of his tongue. “So you really think that’s gonna work, huh?”

Fuck. A shuddering breath leaves your lips as you start to realize there was no escape. “It was worth a try.”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say no, sweetheart,” Zoro says softly as his hand drifts back and paws at your knee. “Scoot over.”

You pulse starts to shake your entire body as he exits the car; he slowly creaks the passenger door open, and you catch a glance of him from the waist down, all powerful thighs and a very clear bulge in the front of his pants. The car rocks as he slides in beside you and, he pulls the door shut with little effort, the rusted hinges screaming as it slams behind him. He turns to you, a lascivious smile stretched across his lips, and wordlessly slides his trousers down to his ankles. A gasp leaves your mouth before you can stop it as you see his cock for the first time, thick and pulsing, backlit by the dim yellow streetlight. He lets out a soft groan as he strokes himself lazily with one hand, his muscled thighs tensing with every movement.

“Well?” he rasps as you watch him slowly run his palm up his length. “You just gonna stare at it, or you wanna do something with it, hm?”

“Right,” you murmur as you blink and try to focus on the task at hand—this was your idea after all, sort of. As you looked him over, his forearm tensing as he fucked his fist for you, his bicep twitching in the low light, the smooth ripple of his abs visible as he held his shirt up, you felt a spark ignite at the base of your spine

You squeeze down onto the floorboards, and maneuver yourself next to him, your chest resting against his steely thigh, one arm hooked around his leg for support. He moves his hand aside and you grasp him firmly at the base as he swells in your palm. You crane your neck to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his shaft, flicking your tongue against the underside of the head; he hisses in response, leaning his head back, his hips lifting a bit off the seat. You swirl your eager tongue around the tip, lavishing it with gentle licks and kisses, finding yourself enjoying your perverted tryst a little too much, as a heat begins to build between your legs.

You press your thighs together as you wind your tongue up and down his shaft, before finally taking him in your lips. Zoro groans as your warm mouth envelops him, and his hand grasps your shoulder to anchor himself. He swells and pulses as you slowly draw him in and out of your warm, wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you reach the tip; with every pull, his breaths grow quicker and more ragged, his groans deeper and longer. He slides his hand to the back of your head and holds you in place as he pushes himself down your throat, forcing rivulets of spit to dribble out of your mouth and onto his thigh, puddling on the worn upholstery under him. As breathing becomes more difficult and you begin to squirm against him, he removes his hand and you quickly pull back and gasp for air, strings of saliva still connecting you to his glistening, spit-coated cock.

His chest rises and falls with harsh and uneven breaths as he stares down at you. “Don’t think you get to stop yet, sweetheart. You still owe me, and I’m starting to think your mouth isn’t gonna cut it.”

“What do you want then?” you pant as you wipe drool from your chin, knowing full well what he expected next, but still wanting to hear it from his perverted mouth.

A debauched grin spreads across his face as he says slowly, “A ride…for a ride.”

“A ride for a ride,” you mutter back after a moment, as you start to pull your shoes off. You yank your polyester work pants down your sticky, sweat-laden legs, tossing them on the grimy floor, and steady yourself on his broad shoulders as you straddle his lap. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs as he reaches down and runs the head of his cock through your folds, collecting the slick that coats your sensitive slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Zoro grunts as he positions himself against your pulsing entrance. “I’d almost say you’re enjoying this more than I am—aren’t you, you little whore?”

“Shut up,” you spit as you grimace, starting to feel him push into you, the head teasing your wet, needy hole. “Don’t call me that.”

“Aw, why not?” His voice was dripping with a condescension that made you quiver. “Do you prefer ‘slut’ instead?”

A sharp gasp claws its way up your throat in response as you ease your way down onto him, feeling how he stretches you as he grasps your waist and slides you down his thick shaft until you envelop him completely. You lean against the back of the driver’s seat as you start to roll your hips, feeling the car begin to rock along with your movements, gentle waves that match your rhythm against him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you whimper as you fuck yourself on him, feeling a coiling tension building inside you as his veiny cock fills you completely with every movement, pulsing and throbbing with every flutter of your walls. There is something deliciously intoxicating about how wrong everything feels—fucking this muscled pervert in exchange for a ride in his rusted-out car, just yards away from the safety of your apartment, in the dim light of the streetlamps where anyone could wander by and see the steam coating the windows and the slow rocking of the vehicle. It all feels disgusting, and revolting, and the indignity only makes you want it even more.

You’re so lost in a haze of your own pleasure you don’t even feel his hand drifting down from your waist, his fingertips brushing against your mound, and only take notice once the rough pad of his thumb begins to make circles over your aching clit. You moan wantonly and shudder as bolts of pleasure shoot through you, quickly bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your release.

“You like that, don’t you?” he rasps as he flicks his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He slides his free hand up your waist and under your shirt, roughly pulling down your bra, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Like that big cock filling you up while I play with you like this, hm? Greedy little whore.”

“Oh Zoro,” you whine as your hips move faster, grinding against him with what little muscle strength you have left as your whole body begins to feel heated and you’re ready to snap like a wire wound too tightly.

“That’s it,” he whispers as you start to shake and your needy cunt contracts around him. “Cum on this cock you fuckin’ slut.”

You cry out shamelessly as you dig your fingers into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you quake around his cock, your body wracked by a blood-rushing climax. Zoro moans quietly as your pulsating spasms of pleasure grip him and pull him in deeper, and his large hands sink into the plushness of your hips, holding you steady as he starts to fuck up into you. He wraps his powerful arms around your back and pulls you against him, holding you tightly against his chest; he pistons into you with sloppy, erratic thrusts, hitting you so deep it send little sparks of pain through your core, the kind that start to feel like pleasure once you get used to it. His breaths suddenly become quick and shallow, and you feel his thighs tensing under you as he buries himself inside you over and over.  

“Fuck baby—so fuckin’ good, gonna cum in this fuckin’ tight little pussy.” A long, low groan echoes in the small space as he bucks his shuddering hips, and he spills himself into you with pulse after pulse of his aching cock. He rocks up into you slowly, almost gently, as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, and short, heated breaths ghost the sensitive skin of your neck.

As you cling to him, burying your face in his sinewy shoulder while you both work to fill your lungs fully again, the car starts to move under you, and it suddenly tilts to one side with a loud metallic groan. Zoro grunts and flings the car door open, with you still on top of him, his cum leaking out of you and into his lap, and cranes his head around the side of the car.

“Shit,” he says as he slams the door shut again. “Damn tire fell off.”

“Something else that happens all the time?” you mutter, your eyebrow raised as you take the opportunity to carefully lift yourself off him, warm rivulets of his spend and your arousal making their way down your thighs.

He snorts a laugh. “I like you. You’re funny.”

“Gee, you’re too kind, Zoro.” You sit next to him, soaking the already-filthy upholstery as you lean down to gather your pants and your bag from the floorboards, when his large hand grips your wrist.

“Where you think you’re going?” he growls.

You turn towards him, your arm frozen in his steely grip. “Uh…home?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip as he reaches down and unhurriedly palms his softening cock, still lubricated with a mix of your fluids.

“And why not?” you murmur as you suck your lower lip between your teeth and bite down so hard you almost draw blood, your chest heaving as you watch his movements.

“Because,” he rumbles as he smacks your thigh and watches your plush flesh jiggle under his wide palm, “you owe me for a tire now, too.”

[purehypnotic]

can i kindly req for arthur morgan hcs,, he falls in love with reader?? -🩷

thank you SO SO much for this request !! it’s our pleasure, love you! hope we did you justice

🧸🏜 arthur morgan x reader, falling in love HCs 🏜🧸

gender neutral, sfw

𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡

-Arthur slumped in his seat near the bar, thumbing a chipped glass of whiskey. The sun was beating down mercilessly on Valentine, and Arthur found relief in the shade of the saloon.

-until he saw your body fling across the window outside.

-ever the good samaritan, Arthur scrambled to check on you. He tripped on his own feet to rush and survey the situation, expecting the worst reasons as to why you would be thrown so harshly.

-His hand flew to his mouth to stifle a chuckle when he saw a riderless horse and your ankle tangled up in the reins.

-Arthur bit back a smartass comment as he went to help you up, when a few things about you caught his eye.

-first, your outfit was buttoned wrong, as if you had rushed to throw something on.

-second, you weren’t wearing spurs (who the hell doesn’t wear spurs around here?)

-and third, you flinched like a feral cat when he hauled you up by the waist. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on.

-“You don’t know how to ride a horse, do ya now?” He squinted at you.

-You lifted a finger to the man’s face, ready to spit back at the accusation when you locked eyes with him.

-Something in his gaze told you he wasn’t trying to belittle you, just offering a hand.

-Lowering your hand, you let out a sigh of frustration. You had run for so long, had fought with everything you had, but still couldn’t figure out how to mount a damn horse. But the blue eyed man in front of you seemed like he knew. He seemed sturdy, reliable, and you had given up all dignity when you caught yourself nearly drooling over his build.

-Grabbing the reins of the horse, you hung your head and held them out to Arthur’s chest.

-”just help please”

-He explained each piece of equipment, showed you how to approach the pony without spooking it, and he found himself laughing when you struggled to jump atop the saddle.

-He offered you a boost, letting his hands linger on you for a bit longer than necessary. You let out a laugh of victory, and the pure joy on your face knocked the breath from Arthur’s lungs.

-With the rush of his racing heart, Arthur impulsively hauled himself up behind you.

-”This alright?” He asked in a low voice as he reached around you to grab the reins. He adjusted himself so he could speak closer to your ear, and his movement caused your back to press into his chest.

-(he did it on purpose).

- Arthur spent the rest of his day taking you on a tour through some backroads, teaching you to steer the whole way through.

-It was the most peaceful evening he’d ever had.

-You made conversation easy. The strange way his heart pounded made him loose-lipped around you, and he gladly told you snippets of his life.

-He told you stories about growing up in the gang, about tricking John into taking showers, about Hosea teaching him to read. And you accepted each story as if they were nuggets of gold. (he loved that)

-You had eventually opened up to him about being a runaway, explaining that you had never needed to learn to ride before going on the run. His heart squeezed to think of what you must have seen.

-As the sun dipped low and the sky turned purple, Arthur realized he had guided your horse toward camp out of habit.

-Despite being a hardened, tough man, Arthur couldn’t let you go.

-He pressed a kiss to your hair and decided that another addition to the gang couldn’t hurt.

𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡

as always,

love katie 💌

[abilouwrites]

BARZAL BABY FEVER

Mat BARZAL 😻🤠

“Oh lindy loulou” I grin sweetly at the three month old as I hold her into my arms, smothering the sweet baby in kisses, “oh ain’t you jus the cutest lil gumdrop to ever be”

I used to hate when my southern accent would shine through but I’ve grown to not mind it as much, “yes you are, yes you are!” I rock her slowly shuffling back and fourth, Noah looks at me and I know he wants his a baby back but I’m not ready to give her up just yet.

“Y/n please, Linds needs her nap” He begs quietly as I continue playing with his daughter, tickling her tummy and watching as she grins and laughs a little, “Mat tell your girlfriend to give me my baby back”

He doesn’t respond, sitting and staring as I let her suckle on my finger, “Noah, Shh” I whisper gently as I make my way back to the couch, once she starts to fuss I stand back up and keep rocking her, “she’ll nap, don’t you worry”

“Just support her head” He nervously goes to stand but I turn away from him, “y/n please”

“I have little siblings, don’t worry” I wave him off, bouncing her up so she’s got her head on my shoulder.

Mat comes over to me and stands behind me gently kissing her forehead and nose, “can I hold her”

I frown but reluctantly let him hold Lindy, even though she’s not my baby, “she smells so good” I whine out as Mat holds the small infant.

My heart swells as I watch him cradle the little girl, maybe because I’m ovulating or maybe because I saw the ring in the back of his dresser, “she’s just the sweetest lil gooseberry”

Noah nods and I watch Sarah slowly creep outside of the bedroom, “god I’m so sorry I slept through it all” she apologizes rubbing her eyes, “can I get you anythin? Water? Tea, maybe coffee” she asks

“No we’re alright, you sleep well?” I ask, patting down the couch for her to come sit

“Yeah, I needed that. If you two want to babysit”

“Yes” Mat and I say without hesitation

Noah and his wife look at eachother with an excitement and love I adore.

“Next Saturday?”

Lindy and I are laying on the couch of Mat and I’s apartment, she’s playing with the little gold shine on my earrings. Mat left for an hour to hit the gym but he promised to bring back lunch.

“Hey cuties” Mat fawns as he walks back into the apartment. Setting a bag of food down onto the island table, “when’s her nap?” He asks quietly as Lindy rests her head on my chest and sprawls out on me.

“In a few minutes, but I wanna get her sleepy before I put her down” I tell him. Mat nods slowly picking her up, whispering softly as he gently places her down in the little crib Noah lent us.

I get up and make my way to the food mat bought, “good workout?” I ask as he quickly devours a large fry and a few of my chicken nuggets.

“Ya” he whispers out, “so uh this is really out of the blue.. do you think kids are in the cards for us?”

“I think so, at least I would really.. really love to have my own baby. We can’t keep Lindy forever” I confess, “I’m sure once they’re back to a regular sleeping schedule they’ll miss her”

“With the way Noah’s blowing up my phone lately I think they already miss her”

[nyxvamps]

Short Story: Huskerdust

The air felt dense and heavy. Not in a bad way. Never in a bad way either, with him being the nights center of attention. Him also being Angel Dust. Everything felt charged, almost like a bomb was about to go off except his one friend, Cherri, isn’t here tonight so it’s all metaphorical.

Angel stood there. In a slouchy, sparkling silver dress. Diamond straps on his slender shoulders and a slit ran up the right side the whole way to his hip and he wore strappy matching heels that covered his paws. His make up was soft pinks and purples, glitter tastefully sprinkled on his entire body. He was swathed with purple and gold lights. machines made a smoky haze flow through the room.

Angels voice rolled through the room like sweet honey, coating everyone’s ears in his smooth sweet words,

“~such an innocent way to plead,

tending to your every need~”

He was gorgeous. He was under contract.

“~somehow, even when it hurts,

i wish you were here to make it worse~”

and Husk doesn’t go after people he has under contract. Oh, but he wished he did. He wished that after Angels performance, Husk could take Angels hand and lead him to his office where the two of them can destress for the night. Have some wine. Cuddle up with Fat Nuggets.

That can’t happen, though. As long as Valentino stays interested in Angel, Husk ain’t letting him go without protection. And what better protection than being owned by a different overlord with more power and better allies. Also, an overlord that doesn’t treat him like he came out of a box.

So for now, Husk’ll watch. Be his friend. Angels protector, but nothing more.

———

song: loved you like religion by blake roman. (yt and soundcloud)

[thewaywedo33]

Can’t stop thinking about the potential comedic gold of Kit reluctantly going to Boorman for advice on how to make a woman feel, you know, *cough* really good *cough*. 

Because there is no way she’s asking her brother about such things, thank you very much. Which, Airk is absolutely insulted by, because he knows all about how to use the Tanthalos charm and, ahem, talents, to make a girl swoon, but Kit just jams her fingers in her ears and runs as far away as possible.

So instead she approaches Boorman, regretting every life choice she’s ever made that’s led to this point, and tries to subtly ask. 

Boorman, being Boorman, pretends to not understand the line of inquiry at first, forcing Kit to get more specific, stuttering along the way, before he puts her out of her misery. He tells her the key to making a woman putty in your hands is to find that special spot on her neck that makes her swoon, because every woman has one. And after that, it’s all about learning to speak her body’s language. He imparts this nugget of wisdom with an eyebrow waggle.

Which...Kit does not find particularly helpful, because, what?

But Boorman just walks away whistling, and Kit can’t believe she ever thought this was a good idea.

Except later, when she’s locked in a makeout session with Jade and she inadvertently does find that spot on Jade’s neck that makes her knees go weak, Kit can’t believe it. She can’t help but breathe out a No way, he was right. 

Jade blinks at her in confusion, and Kit quickly tells her to forget about it before seeking out that spot again. And if it turns out that by the end she also understands what he meant about learning to speak the language of Jade’s body, well, he doesn’t need to know.

But unfortunately for her, when he witnesses that particular far off look in Jade’s eye later he has the audacity to lean cockily against a tree and hold up his hand for a high-five from Kit.

Kit can’t give a big enough eye roll at that, and while part of her wants to give him a swift kick in the nether region, she ultimately relents and slaps his damn hand. 

[lookinghalfacorpse]

/dsmp /rp

crow gifts. a series of random deliveries made by c!philza's chat, all given to c!dream.

1 gold nugget. the only item on this list that's arguably useful. dream was used to having full netherite and ignoring small amenities like gold nuggets, but his armor was gone now. he couldn't help but recall the desperate (yet optimistic) hoarding of a player on a new server. he didn't know what a 'new server' was, exactly. he thought it might be nice. he thought it might be lonely.

a coin-sized scrap of obsidian. he smelled like it, he supposed.

a button. a big one, like one you might see on a winter jacket. dream agonized over where it might've come from. he searched philza's closet, and then techno's, and he made a mental note to look at people's jackets as he encountered them around the server. he tried to look at foolish's cloak. his heart was beating too fast.

an earring. one of puffy's, if he had to guess.

a metal... something. he didn't know the word for it. it was common in redstone machinery-- he's seen them on sam's desk before.

a nail. undoubtedly taken from a barn door somewhere.

a fishing hook. could've come from anywhere.

a smooth, grey rock. dream ran his fingers along it. it was smoothed by water, no doubt-- he wondered what shoreline the crow might've taken it from. beaches feel empty, sometimes.

a sharp, broken piece of metal. it was blindingly shiny. like with every other gift, dream tried to guess where it might've come from. a broken sword, maybe. a broken axe, a broken pair of shears, a broken hammer. techno broke tools on occasion. he pricked his finger on the edge and accused the crow of trying to assault him.

another scrap of obsidian. he asked the crows to stop giving him those.

a piece of paper threaded through a metal ring. this was his favorite. it looked like the bird put some effort into it. he didn't know why the paper needed to be in the ring, but art is like that sometimes. up for interpretation, or whatever. he brought it with him to the lab, and punz didn't ask any questions.

a pen. he remembered it. it was one of sam's best, used on the prison blueprints many, many months ago. it smelled like him, he supposed.

[souridealist]

hazbin hotel might be the thing to get me out of the longest creative drought I've had in a decade but I don't know if there's a fic that goes with this concept so I put forth:

Angel, in the high-pitched talking-to-pets voice we all do, telling Fat Nuggets "oh, you dirty two-timing gold-digging little ho" (Fat Nuggets: [blissfully enjoying ear-scritches]) because Angel found out that Fat Nuggets has been sneaking downstairs and conning Husk into feeding him his own body weight in martini olives