#hope you find your spark nonny!

[samssims]

Hi Sam! I was wondering if I could ask for some advice on how to make simblr fun again? I love storytelling (it's how I have fun with the game) but lately with writing posts and even in game, I just find myself stressing over if it's good/interesting enough or if I took good screenshots, if my writing is good, etc. I love this game and sharing my stories with this community, so it sucks to feel like this. Thank you sm ♥

Oh Nonny, how I feel this pain. I wish I had a sure fire answer to this but sadly there isn't just one thing that will work.

I will put some advice below for some things that have worked for me in my experience if you're interested in trying them out to try to find that spark again!

Now I have been on tumblr sharing my sims since 2013 so I have seen the community change a lot. Things change, people come and go, it's just the natural way of things. So a lot of the time your community can change around you and so a few years ago sims storytelling was really popular and it was the thing everyone was doing. And I mean everyone.

But now things have sort of fallen off or shifted and there is no shame in that for those who moved onto other things and hobbies. Sims storytelling, at it's core, is a hobby. No one is making money off of it (unless you write it all down and get it published in which case, hell yeah go you!)

That being said, finding your spark again is going to be finding what YOU like about storytelling in the sims.

So here are some tips you can try out in the game to keep it fresh and exciting:

Play the Game

The game has changed a lot and added a lot. It came out in 2014. It's about to be 10 years old. With expansions still being added. Honestly having a family where you can just play through what the game offers you can offer inspiration on how to use in game things for story related things later on.

I have found having a lowkey gameplay (for yourself or even for your blog if you are posting) is an easy way to stay active in the community while keeping things low stakes and casual for yourself while you work on finding your spark again.

Change Up your Post Style

Idk about you Nonny, but nothing gets me less motivated than having to edit photos. If I could just point, shoot, and post, I would have content coming out my ears. Which is what I started doing with my Princess Legacy. All I do is crop it. I add some things here and there but really it's all pretty much easy.

Now I have done it all.

Prose on photos.

Prose under photos:

Icons Only:

Gameplay Only:

And finally just cropped:

Now what is the best? That is personal preference especially for the project you are doing. However I have definitely discovered the crop method to be SUPER helpful.

It makes me not have to worry about the whole photo. Sometimes I have this SUPER awesome detail in the back of a photo but when I crop them I lose all that. Which is not good for storytelling lets be honest but does force me to focus on what is actually important in the shot.

Example: Here is the full cottage photo from above You can see that I cropped out a lot of the cottage in favor of being able to see the deer and swans as i thought that was more a cozy fairytale vibe than just the cottage itself. I lost a lot of this detail yet the point still came across.

TBH the paired crop photos also makes me cut out a lot of access photos if they don't have a pair. It's sort of made me realize how much I don't need to take screenshots of. Though I am definitely an overtaker of photos so I always have plenty to choose from. Sometimes I even queue them then look back and realize they aren't needed and delete. It's humbled me a bit.

I could break down every one of these posting styles but that's a whole other thing you didn't ask about.

TLDR of this section is to experiment with how you post. You can have a lot of fun with that.

If Something is Boring, Skip it.

Do you hate the infant stage? Age them past it. Do you hate the winter months in game? Set seasons to never have winter. Do you hate in game holidays ruining your plans? Delete them all from your calendar. Is it a crucial part to your story? Not anymore. Write around it. Or find some creative angles and dialogue to write over it.

Make the game fit you!

Follow the Inspo

Have inspiration to make a new sim in CAS? Do it! Want to make a whole new save? Have an idea for one scene that could start a whole story but you have nothing else for it? DO IT!!!

The game is supposed to be fun. If you have inspiration for a project, live in it. Have fun with it.

But Sam, what if only lasts 2 weeks and I never touch it again?

Me too, babes. Happens to me all the time. Own it. Keep it around in case you want to mess with it later. Have 10 million saves. It's your life and if it brings you a moment of joy to work on it, then it totally is worth it.

If you want to be like me: Be chaotic and post it too. Then private the posts later when you decide to never touch it again. Never delete tho. I always tend to regret deleted things.

Find Your Community

You should ultimately write and create for yourself, but find others who are doing it too! Lift them up as well! Use one day a week on your blog to give reblogs or shoutouts to your fellow creators and writers! It's all about lifting each other up and making friends who all have the same hobby as us.

Try New Challenges

A lot of my sims storytelling started from inspiration around legacy challenges. I loved to take challenge rules and figure out how to make a story around them. But remember: Rules are made to be broken. Especially in favor of a good story.

If you are working on a current challenge/story, find another to merge with it or to give yourself a heck of a fun plot twist. There are no rules!

Have Fun!

This is sort of the whole crux of it, right? And if you're not having fun then...

Take a Break

You are not beholden to your queue! Let it die out! Disappear for 6 months. Return when you want. Go play Animal Crossing or BG3 or whatever it is at the moment. Sims is a hobby. But it does not have to be your ONLY hobby. Let your brain rest.

In my case, whenever I leave the sims I am always filled with ideas and ready to come back in like 3 days.

This could also mean take a break from your save too. Maybe spend some time in CAS. Or in build mode. Or cleaning out your mods. You can still do sims things while letting your story brain rest.

TLDR:

There is no right answer for this, Nonny. I promise your photos are all gorgeous and your story is wonderful! But creativity like anything ebbs and flows so give yourself that grace to let yourself rest and just enjoy the game again, or enjoy time away from it! You deserve it you superstar creator!

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[hcneymooners]

⋆ and if we bite each other, the pain is sweet.

farmhand!sevika x farmer’s daughter!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you find a woman in your barn who looks suspiciously like the fugitive who remains wanted on your town's bulletin board. but you've always a soft spot for the strong ones.

cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, outlaw!sevika, farmhand!sevika, farmer's daughter!reader, reader has curly hair, reader is in her twenties, reader is feral for sevika but tries to keep it cute, soft!masc!reader (i'm not sure if she counts as masc in this but that was the intention! i said soft bc there are times where she dresses overtly femme in the beginning), muscular!reader, strong!reader and sevika is insane about it, touch starved!sevika, soft!sevika, sevi getting praised and spoiled as deserved, petnames, non-sexual intimacy, seduction, dirty talk, praise kink, strength kink, you manhandle sevi like a mf, begging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, tribbing, face riding, nipple play, reader waxing poetic about sevi and pretty she is, dom!reader, pleasure domming, sub!sevika, bdsm elemetns, dom/sub, power play, subspace, implied switch!sevi, mommy kink (specifically mama!). notes: guys i'm so fucking PISSED because tumblr deleted the fucking ask that made this even happen. but nonnie please know this is for you and i hope you love it, mama. also this got a little crazy. did not intend to write sub!sevi but then i was possessed and saw the light.

The morning mist hasn't burned off yet when you find her. In the barn's half-light, dust motes swim like sparks around the stranger's sleeping silhouette, her broad shoulders rising and falling against the hay. There's dried blood on her knuckles, you notice, but her hands are curled gentle as a child's against her chest.

Your daddy's shotgun rests steady in your hands, barrel aimed low but ready. The wild dogs haven't raised any alarm; they're curled near the woman like she belongs there. You watch her breath, take in the way her mouth hangs a little open like she’s aching to feed. Moths flutter against the high windows, their wings catching dawn's grey light.

"Daddy's gonna want to know why I didn't shoot you," you say softly, your voice carrying in the hollow space. 

Your short hair tickles your jaw as you tilt your head, studying. You’ve chopped it for the summer and the heat you applied to it is lifting. You can feel the curls right bursting around your cheeks.

There's something about the woman's face - even in sleep, it holds a story you've seen somewhere before, maybe on that board in town square you've trained yourself not to look at too closely.

The stranger's eyes open - dark and steady as well water. She doesn't startle, despite the gun trained on her. Just watches you like she's reading something written in the air between you both, her gaze catching on the way your corset top pulls tight across your chest, the intricate lace trim exposing your shoulders to the morning air and accentuating the swell of your breasts. 

"Would you have?" the woman asks, voice rough with sleep and something else. Her accent isn't local - has too many edges.

Your lips curl. 

"Ain't shot a thing yet that didn't deserve it." 

You shift your weight, dark jeans whispering against your boots. The corset suddenly feels more revealing under the stranger's gaze, dawn light playing across the ropy back. "You got a name?"

"Sevika." A pause, heavy as August air. "You always dress up to do barn chores?"

"Only when I've got a feeling about something." You step closer, morning light catching in your hair like a halo, shotgun lowering just slightly. You can smell gunpowder and road dust on her, underneath the hay. "Kitchen's got coffee on. Might even have some bacon, if you can convince me you're worth feeding."

Sevika sits up slow, careful, like she's trying not to spook a wild thing. Her shirt is rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms mapped with scars and something that might be tattoo ink. "That an invitation or an interrogation?"

"Guess that depends on what kind of answers you give." 

You rest the shotgun against your shoulder, turning toward the barn door, letting morning spill across your exposed skin. You don't look back - don't need to. You can feel Sevika's eyes on you like a physical touch, can hear the soft grunt as she stands.

The horses shuffle in their stalls, steam rising from their backs. Outside, a rooster crows - late, like always. Everything's waking up slow and sweet, the way summer mornings do. 

Your pulse thrums steady in your throat. There's danger in this - in the way Sevika's boots fall into step behind you. But you've never been one to let fear stop you from taking in strays. Even ones that look at you like they'd like to devour you whole.

As you walk, you can tell that she’s drinking in the sight of the farm as strangers tend to do. The acres go for miles, the sky straining and stretching across its great, green rolling body. Most of the buildings—the farmhouse, the barn, the bustling chicken coop—were built raised by your mother’s hands. She was an architect romanced and rescued by your father, though you suspect she did the rescuing more than him. 

You shimmy a hand down the downy back of one of the newest calves, nose scrunching with affection as he moos back at you. Eventually the house looms before you, the windows popped open and laundry swaying outback despite the expensive machine your mother couldn’t do without.

“You comin’?” You murmur, and Sevika blinks from where she’s been watching you stand in the doorway, your back well-muscled and strong. 

⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺  ⟡ ݁₊ .

The screen door snaps shut behind you both with a familiar whine. Morning floods the kitchen through tall windows—your mother's insistence on "proper light for proper cooking"—and catches on the copper pots hanging above the island. The coffee pot gurgles its last, right on time.

You set the shotgun in its place by the door, muscle memory, though you keep half an eye on Sevika as she takes in the space. The kitchen tells its own stories: your mother's architectural drawings spread across one end of the table, your daddy's mud-caked boots by the back door, fresh-cut flowers in a Mason jar that catch the light just so. The dishes on the side of the sink are speckled stone, sanded and glazed by the artistry of your older sister. The washing machine hums through the wall, keeping time like a heartbeat.

"Sit," you say, gesturing to the worn oak table. It's been scratched and stained by three generations of family suppers, and something in you stirs at the sight of Sevika pulling out a chair—this stranger inserting herself into your history. "Less you'd rather stand."

She sits, those capable hands folding on the tabletop. Her shoulders are still coiled tight, ready to run, but her eyes follow you as you move through the kitchen's familiar dance. Two mugs from the cabinet (your favorite and daddy's backup), bacon from the icebox, cornbread left from last night.

"Sugar?" you ask, though you've already reached for it. The container clinks against your rings as you set it down.

"Black's fine." Her voice is softer in here, like the domesticity of the space has gentled her edges. But when you lean past her to set down her mug, you catch a whiff of leather and gun oil beneath the barn hay. Your curls brush her shoulder, and you feel more than hear her sharp intake of breath.

You take your time settling into the chair across from her, adding three sugars to your own coffee with deliberate movements. Your mother would be appalled at you entertaining company in just a corset top, but there's something thrilling about the way Sevika's gaze keeps catching on the lace trim, on the exposed line of your collarbones, the rise of your breath.

You let her observe because you’re doing the same. Sevika is gorgeous, the kind of beautiful that sinks deep inside of a woman and wears her out. Her grey eyes are like two beacons and they remind you of the deer you’d beg his father not to shoot. The ones you would run after, flapping your arms to get them to scatter.

 Her face is almost ridiculously romantic, with a strong nose sitting pretty in the middle that reminds you of royalty. Her eyes are never-ending, a pit that gapes into who she is. Her skin is textured, as it gets when you’re (allegdly) living on the edge of the law. You can tell she’s older than you without her saying it. Something about her radiates maturity, the same as your mother who’s practically seen the world rise and fall. 

"So," you say, watching her over the rim of your mug. "You gonna tell me what brings a woman like you to sleep in my barn? Or do I need to go take another look at that board in town?"

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't flinch. 

"Would it change your mind about the bacon if I did?"

"Depends." You lean back, let your chair creak against the floorboards. Through the window, you can see the laundry dancing on the line, your mother's favorite dress a splash of yellow against the morning sky. "On whether you deserved what put you there."

Sevika's fingers tighten around her mug, and you catch sight of old burns across her knuckles. "Most things ain't that simple."

"Most things worth protecting ain't either." You slide the plate of cornbread toward her, a peace offering. Your voice softens; you were never good at acting hard. "Eat something, sugar. Then we'll talk about what kind of work needs doing around here, if you're planning to stay.”

Something shifts in her expression—surprise at the endearment maybe, or relief. When she reaches for the cornbread, her sleeve rides up, revealing more of that tattoo. It looks like a snake, or maybe a dragon, curling up her arm. You wonder how far it goes, what other stories her skin might tell.

The washing machine clicks into its spin cycle, and somewhere outside, your daddy's truck rumbles to life. The morning's moving on, and there's work waiting. But for now, you let yourself sit in this moment: the sun warming your bare shoulders, the quiet sounds of Sevika eating at your family table. 

“I suspect,” she says, her throat bucking as she swallows, “that your parents will have a bit more sense about hiring a fugitive for farm work.”

You shrug, pick a corner off the cornbread on her plate.

“Everyone out here is struggling. We all need someone or something. The only reason we’re faring slightly better is because this place was paid off as an anniversary gift by my grandparents.” You glance out the window. “Plus, I’m my daddy’s favortite. He tends to listen to me.”

There’s something sad about the way you say it, as if it aggrieved you to be so loved. But the moment passes and you’re looking back at her, lips full and curved like the moon. 

“It’ll be good for us,” you decide and she lets it go. “Get seconds if you’d like, sugar. I'll intercept them.”

“I’m older than you,” Sevika rumbles and you hide a smile, cock your hip out as you grab a basket for the chickens. 

“Doesn’t make you any less sweet on the eyes.” 

At that her head ducks down and you laugh, the sound clear and bright like a bell. 

⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺  ⟡ ݁₊ .

With that Sevika finds herself hired as a farmhand under the stern eye of your father and the knowing eye of your mother. The work is honest and she relishes being able to lose herself in it, settle into the rhythm and flow of this little world your blood has built.

She doesn’t know what to do with you however.

Now, Sevika has lived several lives at this point. In fact sometimes she awoke in the night under the strain of them, the urge to run stampeding from where it sits behind her teeth and under the flat of her tongue. She understands on some level that women find her attractive, brooding. She’s unsurprised at the hints you keep dropping over the weeks. You probably find her intriguing, see her as a means to rebel with her older age and criminal nature.. (“I’m literally in my twenties, Sevika. ‘M not a baby.”)

At least that’s what she thinks at first. But then, she begins to doubt herself and overanalyze your rather…creative attempts to satisfy your coveteous nature. 

The first is when she wakes up one early morning, the sky slurred between cotton candy pink and a warm lilac, to find you taking a bath in a two-bit shining steel contraption of a tub. Your body is trembling, but you seem at peace. Your curls are heavy and swollen with water, made longer by the weight of the moisture. She watches your back flex as you move, takes in the hidden strength of your arms and peeking thighs. Your muscle takes her aback, makes her stomach warm real down low.

She should move—your parents will be up soon—but you’re just so captivating when you’re kissed by the dawn. The water sloshes as you pour it over yourself, the underside of your breasts flashing as you soap down. And then you turn, peeking over your shoulder and gazing at her with faux-bambi eyes as you trace a hand up and over your chest to get your back. 

She feels warm, teased in a manner that makes her throat squeeze and her hands clench. She doesn’t know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to naviage this eager rabid want that you show her so openly. And it just doesn’t stop.

But what really gets under Sevika’s skin is the kindness that you insist on bludgering her with, especially when no one’s watching. It’s genuine, unexpecting, and claws at her skin with tender phantom fingers.

Just the other day, Sevika had been unable to successfully ward off a duo of wolves and three sheep had been lost in her efforts. She’d apologized gruffly and repeatedly until your mother stepped forward and cupped her chin with a firm hand, telling her to “fuck off with this bullshit because it wasn’t intentional and you tried your best.” What was with you women and nurturing her?

After, Sevika had gone back to where the lasty wooly body lay—the small innocent bones of a lamb. She had felt sick at the sight because the lamb wasn’t a lamb in that moment; she’d seen something else. You saw the lean figure of her body as it bent over in some sort of grief, distraught at the sight of the dead animal beneath it. 

Sevika, You had said with shining eyes. Are you alright?

Sevika had looked at you long and hard before making a noise from deep within her throat. Turning swiftly, she tried to block you off from the sight.

I don’t think you’ll want to see this, she’d muttered and you’d settled your hands on your hips. 

I’ve lived this long before you were working here, you reminded her.

Sevika’s face was still broken in an open expression of confusion and remorse when you moved forward. Carefully, you swallowed the bulk of her body into the warmth of yours. You weren’t nearly as big, but you held your own and you held her fast. The two of you stayed just like that, with your hand tucked neatly behind her head as you steadied her. 

Now, she watches as your broad shoulders dip as you kneel to pick up the limp body of a fallen chicken. These goddamn wolves needed to be dealt with.

It’s in their nature, sugar, you’d told her.

“Wait,” she calls out and you turn to look at her, your cheeks apple-full under the thicket of your lashes. 

“Hmm?” you say back, your voice curious.

“Put gloves on if you’re gonna touch it. It probably had some sort of disease.”

Sevika walks closer, grabbing a spare pair of gloves she usually keeps for the other town boys who your father has helping him throughout harvesting week. She holds them out, those dark eyes glittering like grey moonstone.

You look up at her then, curls haloed around your soft face. They’re still kept short, dust your dimpled chin. You look so young and probably always would, the baby fat clinging to your cheeks like the hands of a lover. Sevika continues to gaze down at you, firm and unrelenting, and you smile gently as she eventually looks away. 

You’re not moving fast enough, so she crouches down and takes your hands, sliding each glove on and making sure the fingers fit. She notes that your nails are square and glossy, painted an icy pink. You watch with an affected air, scooping the small body up when she finally lets go. 

“I’m sorry,” You say to the glassy eyes of the hen and Sevika’s heart seizes.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” she tells you, gentle and understanding. 

You glance at her and then back at the animal you hold.

“No need to apolgize, you didn’t do anything wrong. Can you help me dig a grave for her?”

Sevika doesn’t know if it would really be worth it to bury it, but you’re a little sad and so obviously cold in your oversized cotton tee and denim shorts. Your skin lights up with the mid-afternoon sun and Sevika can see all of your goosebumps and the fine dusting of hair.

“I—sure,” she agrees and You nod, walking away and trusting her to follow.

Before you begin to lead the march, you turn back and cup her elbow. 

“Thank you, sugar.”

And that’s all. She wants to fucking eat you.

You continue to unravel her expectations like cotton thread.

You catch her before dawn another morning, when the sky's still tender with sleep and dark like the evening is loath to leave. She's checking the fence line, and you appear like a vision with two thermoses of coffee and your father's old flannel draped over your worn dark green longsleeve. When you pass her the coffee, your fingers linger on hers longer than necessary.

"Thought you might be cold out here, sugar," you say, and the endearment makes her throat tight. She's not used to being the one called sweet things.

You settle beside her on the fence, close enough that she can feel your warmth. The morning fog rolls across the fields like a dream, and Sevika finds herself watching the way it catches in your hair and the bones of your fingers, how it makes you look ethereal and solid all at once.

"You don't have to keep doing this," she says roughly, though she cradles the thermos close.

"Doing what?" Your voice is innocent but your eyes are knowing.

"Taking care of me. Bringing me things. Being..." she gestures vaguely, unable to name the way you make her feel seen.

You laugh, and she shivers. "Sugar, has it occurred to you that maybe I want to? That maybe I see something in you worth cherishing? That I’m just being genuine?"

The word ‘genuine’ hits her like a physical thing. She ducks her head, unused to this kind of naked affection, but you just reach over and touch her jaw with gentle fingers.

"You're allowed to let someone be sweet on you," you murmur. "Even if you're pushing forty." 

There's teasing in your voice, but your touch is reverent. Sevika wants to protest—about the age difference, about her rough past, about how someone as bright and whole as you shouldn't want someone as weathered as her. But you're looking at her like she’s the human version of the Promised Land, and all her arguments die in her throat.

"I don't know how to do this," she admits, voice barely above a whisper.

"Do what?" You're stroking her jaw now, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

"Nothing. I need to get back to work."

You lean back, let her go. 

“If it’s about learning,," you call, your voice trailing after like smoke, "the good thing is that I'm a real good teacher."

The next time I’m in town, she thinks, I need to buy a pack of damn cigarettes.

⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺  ⟡ ݁₊ .

From then on, you start to learn her tells. Like how she always positions herself between you and any perceived threat, how her hands flex when she's trying not to reach for a weapon that isn't there anymore. How she startles, less now, when you're gentle with her.

You catch her in the barn one afternoon, trying to wrap her own ribs after a particularly rough day breaking the new stallion. Her knuckles are white with the effort of reaching around, face drawn tight with pain she won't admit to.

"Sugar," you say softly, and she freezes like a spooked deer. "Let me help you with that."

Her eyes dart to you, then away. "I've had worse."

"Ain't about what you've had." You cross to her, boots quiet in the hay. "About what you deserve now."

You take the bandage from her callused fingers, and she lets you - that alone feels like a victory. This close, you can see the way her breath catches when your fingers brush her skin. Like caring for her is its own kind of violence.

"Lift your arms for me, darlin'," you murmur, and something in her expression cracks when you call her that. Like she can't quite believe the sweetness in your voice is meant for her. But she obeys, raising her arms slowly, letting you wrap her ribs with careful precision.

"You don't have to-" she starts, but you shush her.

"I know I don't have to. Want to." Your fingers trace a scar on her side, old and silver in the afternoon light. "Anybody ever just take care of you, Sevika?"

She doesn't answer, but the way she trembles under your touch says enough. You secure the bandage and let your hands linger on her waist, thumbs brushing bare skin above her jeans.

"Well," you say, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, right where that dragon tattoo curls toward her neck, "better get used to it. I take good care of what's mine."

Her sharp inhale sounds like thunder, and when she turns in your arms, her usual swagger is nowhere to be found. Just vulnerability, raw and beautiful as a sunrise. You cup her face in your hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and she leans into your touch like she's starving for it.

"When did you decide tha?" she asks, voice rough. "That I’m yours?"

You smile, soft and sure, and smooth out the furrow in her brow. "You were mine the moment you settled onto my land, sugar. Just took us both a minute to catch up."

And maybe you came on too strong, ‘cause she yanks herself back and straightens her shoulders.

“Thanks.”

You sigh, loud and irate. She’s so fucking—

“No problem, honey.”

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It happens during the last heat of summer, when the air sits thick as honey on your skin. You're in the barn, having just finished moving hay bales—work that would've taken twice as long if you weren't so used to it. Your blue and white bandana top clings to your chest, sweat stealing out from under it, and you can feel Sevika watching you from where she's meant to be fixing the tractor. You arch your back a little more, make sure to display the way your little rose-bud panties poke over the worn mouth of your lightwash, knee-length jean shorts.

You've caught her looking more and more lately. Noticed how her eyes track the contraction of your arms when you're lifting feed bags, the way she startles when you easily hoist yourself into the saddle. Like she can't quite reconcile your soft curves with the strength beneath them.

"You gonna fix that tractor, sugar?" you ask without turning around, smile curving your lips when you hear her shift. Your desire is practically shaking the bones of your teeth."Or you just gonna watch me work?"

Her throat clicks. 

"I’m—I'm nearly done."

You hum, reaching up to stack the last bale. Your shirt’s knot loosens a little ‘round your back, exposing the dip of skin, and you hear something metallic clatter to the floor behind you. When you turn, Sevika's staring at you with those storm-grey eyes, wrench forgotten at her feet. There's grease on her forearms, sweat at her temples, and she's looking at you like she's finally ready to break.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently, crossing to her. Your bare feet are silent in the hay.

She swallows hard when you reach her, especially when you grip the tractor's edge on either side of her, caging her in with arms that could just as easily lift her. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?" You lean closer, letting her feel the strength in your body. "Tell me what I'm doing, sugar."

Her hands flex at her sides, like she's fighting not to touch you. 

"You're driving me crazy," she admits roughly.

“Oh,” you whisper, pursing your lips. “Do I make you nervous, baby?”

She flushes, tries to scramble back, and you laugh, soft and low. 

"Driving you crazy, huh? Only fair. You've been driving me crazy since I found you in my barn." You trace a finger down her jaw, feeling how she trembles. "The way you look at me when you think I can't see. The way you try so hard to be good, to keep your distance." 

Your other hand finds her hip, grip firm. You squeeze them in warning.

"I've seen how you watch me work. You like that I'm strong enough to handle you?"

She makes a broken sound, head falling back. "[Name]."

"I've got you," you murmur, and then you're lifting her onto the tractor's edge like she weighs nothing, stepping between her legs. Her eyes go wide, pupils blown, and her hands finally, finally come up to grip your biceps. "Been wanting to do that for weeks. You know you gotta tanline right here?"

You finger the thin edge of her boxers from beneath her jeans, 

"Christ," she breathes, fingers tightening on your arms. "You're gonna kill me."

“Are you religious? That’s cutesy,” You smile, pressing closer until you can feel her heartbeat racing against your chest. "Nah, sugar. Just gonna take real good care of you." Your hands slide up her thighs, feeling the way she shivers. "If you'll let me."

She answers by pulling you into a kiss that tastes like summer storms and surrender, and you smile against her mouth. You've got her right where you want her—trembling and warm in your capable hands.

"That's it," you whisper when you pull back to breathe, one hand coming up to cup her face. "Let me handle you, mama. Just like you need."

And Sevika, who's spent years being the strong one, the dangerous one, the one who protects—she lets herself fall into you, lets herself be gentled by your hands. Maybe this is what surrender feels like: not a defeat, but a coming home.

⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺  ⟡ ݁₊ .

Your most prevailing thought is that you’re pissed you didn’t get to see Sevika like this earlier.

Her back arches beautifully, her chest rising with pleasure as you hold her down on the floor by the hips. Your mouth is relentless, suckling at her warm pussy with fervor. She tastes sweet and she’s so soaked, her arousal dribbling out of your mouth and onto your chin. You hum as she roots a hand in your hair, tugging harshly as she grinds down in tight little circles. 

She’s whimpering, high breathy sounds that you’re determined to keep streaming from her slick lips. She’s still quiet, as you expected, but Christ does she want it. You let her use you, sliding your hands from her hips up to cup and grope her tits. Her nipples are erect, so hard and pretty and pointed toward heaven like she’s trying to tempt God. She’d probably succeed. 

The sun slips through the slats of the barn and it illuminates her skin, the brown of it so warm that you almost feel as if you’re both on fire. You slip your tongue into the tight clutch of her cunt, gently dipping back and forth so that you’re fucking her on your tongue, and squeeze her ass in silent demand. She digs her nails into you, moans loudly, but still doesn’t heed.

With a groan of irritation, you clutch her ass with a grip of steel and begin to bounce her on your face until she starts to see the bigger picture. Eventually, she’s moving on her own—fast and uncoordinated as that bright spiral begins to coil in her stomach. 

“Oh my God,” she groans. “Just like that. Please.”

You pull away, spread her apart.

“I know, mama,” you murmur and then dive back in.

Her thighs come up around your head and you let her crush you, shaking your head like a dog in heat as you nurse and lap at her pussy. Above you, Sevika twists one of her nipples and you feel her body tense in response. You bring a hand up to rub at her clit, and she jerks. 

When she cums, she’s so bright and beautiful—like a star imploding onto itself. Her legs fall open and she lets out a low whine, like an animal, her hips still circling as she attempts to ride it out.

“Hold on, mama,” you tell her. “I’m gonna give it to you.”

You move quickly, undressing completely and laying your body against hers. Your tits push into hers and she nuzzles into your neck, mind still hazy. You soothe her, digging a thumb into her lower back as you slip two fingers into the meat of her. She lets out a strangled yell at the overstimulation, but you hold her to it.

You fuck your fingers into her, until the squelch is more than obscene, watching as she shakes and writhes alongside you. You use your other hand to guide her to your mouth, kissing her messily as you introduce a third finger to her pussy. 

“Oh,” she moans, low and raspy, and you coo at her. “Oh, shit. Holy—holy fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby? You have to tell me what you like.”

“I—mmm. Yes. Yes, it feels good. I need—I need—”

Sevika trails off, eyes wide and watery. You roll over, tucking her under you while you continue to finger her. You raise one of her legs, widening the angle, and she squeals. You laugh lowly into the seam of her neck before sucking the skin between your teeth, biting down and bruising her.

“What do you need, mama? More?”

“Yes, but—,” She blinks, attempting to clear her head. “I want you too. I want you to finish with me.”

“With you or on you?” You watch her face as you ask, eyes following the twitch of her brow. “Maybe in you?”

That makes her shiver, and you smile as you sit up. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” you mutter as you manhandle her into how you want her. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

She shivers again and you pull her up, drawing her against your chest so that your tits are once again pressing up against each other. Carefully, you extend her strong legs over yours and inch forward until your clits catch. The friction is insane and your mouth drops open along the same time that Sevika goes ramrod straight. 

You dive right in, fucking up so that your cunts slide and swallow each other. She’s so creamy, her previous orgasm sliding down her thighs. There’s a moment where your control dips, where she’s the one ramming the two of you together and leading you up so that you can grind harder until she stutters again.

Then it’s back and you’re holding her down, spreading her even further open as you rub your pussy roughly against hers. You need her to stay down, need her to take what you choose to give. Sevika is beneath you, trembling and open mouthed, and you stick two fingers down her throat ‘till she’s gagging wetly around them.

“Oh m’God,” you moan, your eyes never leaving hers. “You’re such a fucking slut, mama. Jesus.”

That does it and you feel her pour into you, thick and warm. You follow shortly after, rocking and pushing down against her as you chase the feeling. She’s sobbing, a hand coming up to grip at her throat as she tries to match your movements.

You slow, come to a stop, and stroke her face as you rise off of her. Tenderly, you kiss at her cheeks and eyelids as you sush her. 

“I know, baby. You were so good. Such a good, perfect, strong woman. Hmm?” You kiss her temple. “You did so well, mama.”

She’s shaking, so you hold her until she’s less far away. You want to get up, get her some water and maybe something to eat but she’s holding you captive. Sevika turns into you, body big and curved like the moon come to earth.

The afternoon light paints everything gold, and you know you’ve got work waiting—always do, on a farm. But for now, you just continue to hold her. Somewhere outside, those wild dogs are keeping watch. 

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @blackdykegirlblogger @gaysevika @lovelifelaughsakuna @thesevi0lentdelights @rios-st4rs @16novvs @rottngrl3 @namuranguinhos @pllduniverse @swordfemm4 @alexthewalex @baeumonde

[star2fishmeg]

115 Childhood best friends to lovers and 6 I could just kiss you right now. Luke Hughes

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy Halloween🎃 - Hi nonnie! I went with one prompt instead, hope that's all right!

FLUFF #6 "I could kiss you right now."

📞 dialling…

The October air nipped nasty, and chilly when it breezed over their skins, the only warmth being the heat that radiated off their bodies as y/n and Luke sat side by side on a bench against the house, donning their matching Cosmo and Wanda (Fairly Odd Parents) costumes. With their backs against the brick, they looked out absently into some frat’s busted back garden, plastic chairs scattered and the wet rings of a keg on the deck. 

She peered up at Luke, specifically the pink lipstick stain on his neck that she’d given him as part of their costume, and he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t feel something the second her lips landed on his skin. His headband with his little lopsided crown still intact, wand placed on the decking between them. He looked so handsome in his white shirt that hugged his arms and chest nicely, slacks, black and fit his thighs well, and the tie, oh, the tie drove her wild. Thoughts of pulling him around by it like a little lovesick puppy, loosening it. 

“Thanks for uh, doing this with me, even if I disappointed you by not being sexy. You saved my ass from being a third wheel or the odd one out, I guess. And thanks for agreeing not to do any of that, uh, dye or wigs or any of that shit, I just washed my hair.” She chuckled lightly, placing her makeshift wand next to her and wrapping her arms around her body. A jacket would have been smart, so would have wearing a top that covered a bit more on the chest and arms but committing to the costume was something she took seriously. Besides, there was nothing wrong with trying to attempt to grab Luke’s attention somehow.

He turned his head gently to face her, a soft smile across his lips and she watched the way his eyes scanned her face and chest under the dim porchlight, “No problem. You didn’t need to wear a sexy costume to get me to agree, by the way. You could’ve asked me to be a uh, a uh, crayon, and I would’ve ditched whatever Duker would’ve tried roping me into being for you.”

“Sure, that’s not what your eyes on my cleavage are telling me.” Her lips pulled into a smirk as his eyes jumped back to hers, his ears tinting pink. “I’m joking, you’re okay, I don’t mind.”

“Sorry, it’s just…um…I just-” his mouth faltered, opening to speak but nothing leaving his mouth. Y/n slid his wand from between them to the floor, scooting herself thigh against his, eyes almost sparkling as she waited for him. Luke’s chest only tightened, heat building on the back of his neck, “I just think you look pretty either way. All the time, actually.” 

Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, an adoring grin on her face that she couldn’t stop even if she tried, “Well, I think you look cute all the time, especially in your little crown tonight.”

He smiled and shook his head, hiding his pink face in his hands. He hated how easily he flushed, especially around her and he did it so often that he gave up finding excuses. Y/n’s giggles bloomed a warmth in his chest, his favourite kind of hug-like feeling that he only felt with her. Her smaller hands wrapped around his wrists, trying to pry away his hands with a little struggle until he let her win, allowing her to cup the backs of his hands on their thighs between them. Neither spoke, the comfortable silence falling around them with the buzz of the party inside being the only source of life. Eyes locking, hers widening ever so slightly the way they would whenever she looked at him, his relaxing as he chewed the inside of his cheek. The breeze through their hair, heat passing through their hands and a mutual transferring of sparks jolting between them.

“You’ve got that look on your face, what are you thinking?” She asked, thumbs stroking his palms.

His breathing shook gently, heart thudding harsher the longer they stared into each other like they’d painted the sky with constellations especially for each other, “That we’re alone…in a couples costume…and that we find ourselves like this all the time and…”

“...Aaaaand?” she raised an eyebrow.

With a low murmur, Luke exhaled, “...and that I could kiss you right now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she replied, softly. 

Her hands slid to his nape with confidence, tangling in the curls on the back of his head while his arm wrapped around her waist eagerly and his other hand settled on her thigh, heads tilting in opposite directions with no hesitation in leaning into each other’s bodies. The kiss was nothing but meaningful, fires igniting inside them when lips pressed into one another’s and hands kept each other close until after those few seconds of paradise, they pulled back for air, foreheads resting together, eyes burning. Fires only spread when Luke dipped back in, his kiss keen and fiery, one that had y/n moaning into his mouth as lips parted and reconnected, latching like they’d disappear if they were to let go.

The October air didn’t bite so nasty any more, not when Luke Hughes kissed her breathlessly.

[supernaturalgirl20]

Happy Joel!!! Post apocalyptic happy Joel that’s what I wish to see!!! Happy horny Joel with major breeding kink because Ellie is already grown up and he need to take care of somebody and Jackson is safe enough for family. Imagine this big hands holding little babe

Aww yes nonnie, loved this request so much. Joel getting to have a family again is everything. Hope you enjoy 😉

Maybe Now

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, breeding kink, mentions of loss, sadness, talks about life before, mentions of pregnancy, giving birth, breastfeeding, soft Joel, small glimpses into Joel’s life with his new family.

A/N: still have two Joel requests I’m working on, hoping to have them out this week. My requests are only open at the minute for Joel, but I will be opening them up across the board very soon 🥰

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Music played in the background as you stirred the sauce for the chicken, hips swaying to the beat as you hummed along to the song. 

“Oh,” you gasp as a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Somethin’ smells good, darlin’.” He breathes in the aroma as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“Just a new recipe I’m trying out. How was the patrol today?” Joel’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel him hard against your ass. 

“Was ok. Nothin’ to excitin’. Missed you though.” His lips begin to leave a trail of kisses along the skin of your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh yeah?” You tease as you switch off the stove and turn in his arms. He nods, eyes taking in the curve of your lips before meeting your gaze.

“God, you’re beautiful, baby.” His voice is low, almost a whisper but the deep timber of his voice set the spark of arousal alight. 

His lips crash hungrily onto yours and you moan as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. What’s gotten into him tonight? You think to yourself as his hands move to cup your ass. 

“Need you, darlin’,” he mumbles into your skin, and you shiver. 

“What about dinner?” You ask, a strangled moan passing your lips as he pulls the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. 

His teeth nip at the pebbled peak of your nipple, and he groans into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair. “Can’t wait, darlin’, I can’t.”

His tongue licks around your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. “Oh, Joel. Oh god…fuck…yes, dinner can wait. Take me to bed.” 

He pulls back with a devilish smile on his face, pupils blown wide with lust. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

His hands grip the back of your thighs and with a squeal, you're lifted into his arms. “Joel, what are you doing? Put me down, your back.”

“Trust me darlin’, ain’t nothin’ ever gonna stop me from havin’ my way' with you.” 

He carries you towards the bedroom, kicking open the door he gently lowers you, his mouth devouring you as he walks you back towards the bed. 

“Take it off,” he commands as he stands staring at you through lust-hooded eyes. The authority in his voice has you quivering with need. 

You lift the dress over your head and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. He growls as he takes in the sight of you naked. “Fuck darlin’ you been walkin’ around all day with nothin’ on under that dress?”

“Hmm, Hmm. Wanted to be ready for when you got home,” you say softly before biting your bottom lip. His eyes rake over your curves as he starts to strip.

“You gonna take what’s yours Miller or do I have to go find someone else?” You tease and before you can go anywhere, he grabs your ass and lowers you onto the bed. 

“You’re mine. Ain’t no one else allowed to touch what’s mine, ya hear?” He growls, hand gripping your face before he lowers his lips to yours. 

“Gonna show you whose pussy this is, case you forgot while I was gone.” He grabs his cock in his hand and runs the tip along your slick, coating himself in your arousal before he notches the head at your entrance and thrusts in. 

God, you loved when he got like this. Possessive. Feral. It was also the only time he truly let his guard down. 

“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so wet…so tight. Always so tight.” He rolls his hips into you sheathing himself completely within the heat of your walls. You’ve never felt so full. 

He rocks himself into you over and over, his mouth swallowing your soft whimpers as he kisses you passionately. Your joint moans fill the space around you as he works you towards your climax. 

You can feel yourself teetering along the edge and just as you’re about to fall he pulls out causing you to groan in protest. “Joel what….”

He lays himself back on the bed and grabs you so you’re straddling him. “Wanna be able to see you, darlin’. Want you to ride me.” He stares up at you, eyes blown wide with lust, and he watches as you slowly sink onto him. 

He groans, head pushing back into the pillow as he grips your hips. “Never gonna get used to the size of you, Joel. Fuck.”

“Need you to move now, darlin’.” His voice is husky with need and when you move your hips above him, he groans loudly, eyes closing as he feels you slide up and down his cock. 

“That’s it darlin’…just… just like that. So beautiful like this…. takin’ me so well.” Your head falls back as you come around him, a breathy moan passing your plush lips.

“Fuck…I can feel you coming baby…squeezing me so damn tight.” He groans as he starts to thrust upward meeting your movements and you can feel yourself coming again. 

“Oh god, Joel…. I’m…fuck I’m gonna come….” you cry as you flutter around him again. His fingers dig into your hips as he grunts loudly. “God damn, darlin’. You’re so pretty when you come. Gonna look even prettier, round and swollen with my baby.”

Baby?! 

“Joel what are you…” He sits up, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight as he fucks up into you. 

“Ya heard me, darlin’. Now you need to hush and let fuck you full of me, ya hear. Wanna have you nice and round with my baby.” His breathing was becoming laboured as he neared his release. You came again with a flutter of your cunt at his words, and it sends him over the edge. 

His head rests on your breast as he calms his racing heart. Your mind is racing from what just happened. He came inside you. Something he never does. “Did you mean it?” You ask nervously, hoping that he hadn’t just said it in the heat of the moment.

 Running your fingers through his hair, he hums, a contented sigh falling from his lips. He pulls back a little so he can look at you. “Meant every word, darlin’. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot lately. I mean we’re safe here in Jackson. We got family, friends who would help us with the baby.” 

He kisses the edge of your mouth. Once. Twice. 

“I never thought in a million years I’d want this. Not after Sarah. Not with the way the world is but then I found Ellie, found you and now it’s all I want. I want nothin’ more in this fucked up world than to have a family with you.” His fingers caress your cheeks as he stares intently into your eyes. 

A single tear falls down your cheek and you give him a watery smile. “Are you sure?”

“Never been surer about anything, baby. So, what'd ya say?” His eyes flicker between your own and when you nod at him, he pulls you into a heated kiss.  

“Best eat that dinner now because I ain’t lettin’ you leave this bed until I’m sure I’ve fucked a baby into you.”

***

Joel was a man of his word. 

He had kept you in that bed for days before he went out on patrol again. Making sure he had you full of him. 

And sure enough, a month later you had missed a period. Something that never happened. You didn’t even notice at first until you began to feel nauseous all the damn time. 

Maria had laughed when you heaved at the smell of her cooking. Some fish dinner Tommy loved, and she had jokingly said ‘you’re not pregnant are you’. 

“I think I might be.” 

“Oh, my god. Really? This is amazing. Ok ok…eh, I think there are some pregnancy tests over at the Johnsons. Let’s go.”

She pulled you by the hand and led you to the house across the street where she asked Lauren for two tests. 

“Here. You want me to come with you while you take them?” She asks, looking down at your slightly shaky hands. 

“No. Thanks but if it is positive, I want Joel to be the first to know.” Maria nods in understanding. 

“Ok but then you gotta come find me and let me know.” She stares at you with a pointed look. 

“I promise.”

***

3 minutes.

The longest three minutes of your life. You pace the length of your bedroom as you wait for the result, too caught up in your own head to notice that Joel has come home and is calling for you. 

The door slowly creaking open startles you and you whip your head around to find him looking at you, face full of concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong darlin’?” He asks, voice low as he slowly makes his way to you. His arms slide over your hips to wrap around your back, pulling you close. 

His eyes look down at you and you can make out the concern in them. “I-I uh…. I’m late. And I haven’t been feeling too well lately so I…” You worry your bottom lip and tilt your head towards your bedside locker where the white stick is placed. 

His eyes drift to where you’re looking and when he sees it his gaze flickers back to you quickly. “Are you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.” 

His fingers move up and down your back in a soothing manner and he smiles down at you. “Let’s look together then. Come on,” he says as he grabs your hand gently in his and leads you to the bed. 

Grabbing the stick he looks at you, his face full of love and adoration and you instantly calm. “Ready?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Yeah.” God, you hope it’s positive. You hope it isn’t just some bug or something. Joel looks so happy right now and you don’t even know if you are yet. 

Two pink lines.

Pregnant.

“Does that…. are you?” He gulps nervously as his eyes shift from the stick in his hand to you.

“I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.” You say with a smile. His eyes instantly light up and you huff out a breath as he pulls you into, both of you falling back on the bed. 

His lips are on you the minute your back hits the mattress and his hand rests on your stomach. “Our baby’s in there.” His voice is almost a whisper but it’s full of pride. His face is a myriad of emotions, and you think you can see tears well in his eyes. 

“Hey,” you say softly as you cup his cheek in your hand. “You, ok?”

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before his gaze meets yours. “Yeah…I- it’s just…Sarah would have loved this. She always wanted a brother or sister just…. I just never found the right person.” He chokes in his words as he tries to hold back the tears. 

“She’s still here, Joel. In here,” you say as you point to his heart. He nods. A smile edged its way onto his face. 

“Yeah. She woulda liked you. And Ellie.” He trails off as he stares down at his hand on your stomach and your heart breaks for him. Placing your hand atop his, you squeeze it gently. “And we would have loved her. How about, if this baby is a girl, her middle name can be Sarah. To honour her big sister?”

A watery smile adorns his face as he looks at you and nods. “I’d like that.” His hand rests on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip. “I love you.”

“I love you too. We love you.”

***

Ellie was over the moon when you both told her. Delighted to be becoming a big sister and between herself and Joel, they wouldn’t let you do much. 

The protectiveness has only gotten worse as time goes on and you start to show. You’re five months along and your bump has finally popped, something Joel is very proud of. 

You’ve seen another side of him since becoming pregnant, a softer side and you wonder if this is how he was before the outbreak. 

“Morning baby girl. Hope you slept ok?” His soft voice stirs you from sleep and it takes you a moment to realise he isn’t talking to you. He is talking to your baby.

“Hope you didn’t kick up a storm and keep your mama awake. She needs all the rest so you can grow big and strong. This world is a big scary place, but you don’t gotta worry, because your old man is gonna keep you safe. I’m not gonna fail this time.” His voice cracks a little and you can feel tears building behind your eyes. You want to reach down and comfort him, but you know he needs his time with your baby, so you wait.

“You got so many people here who love you. Me and your mom for one but you also got a big sister who is very special, and she is gonna look out for you no matter what. Then you got your uncle Tommy. He’s an idiot. Don’t tell him I said that. He’s a good man though and he can’t wait to meet you and tell you stories about me and him when we were younger.” He laughs quietly as he rubs his hand over your bump. 

“Hopefully not all of them.” He continues to talk about the community in Jackson and when he trails off you reach down and run your fingers through his hair. He releases a contented sigh and lifts his head. “Morning darlin’. You sleep ok?”

“Hmm, best sleep ever. What are you doing?” His face blushes and his gaze drifts to your bump. “Just havin’ a chat with my baby girl.”

“Mmm, and what if it’s a boy? What then?” You say with a smile. His gaze meets yours again and his smile makes the butterflies in your stomach dance. 

“Nah, it’s a girl. I can tell.” 

***

You weren’t entirely sure when your due date was exactly, but the local doctor had it narrowed down to a certain week. Joel was on patrol for the next two days even though he was supposed to be home. Jason had gotten sick, and they needed an extra hand, so he agreed reluctantly. 

Ellie and Maria had assured him they would look out for you until he got back but you could see the anxiety in his eyes when he left. 

That was three days ago now and you were beginning to get worried that something had happened. Not only that, but you’d started to get pains across your lower back and you were worried you’d go into labour without him here. 

“Hey, you ok? You don’t look so good.” Ellie asks as she walks into the kitchen. You nod your head but then a sharp pain erupts across your stomach, and you bend over with a gasp. Water pools on the floor between your legs. Oh shit. 

“Ok. You’re not ok. Let’s get you into bed and then I’m going to get Maria and doc.” She leads you slowly to your bed, helping you in and propping you up with pillows before she rushes out of the house. 

You pray that Joel comes home soon. He’ll be so annoyed if he misses this. You hope he’s ok. 

“Hey. Ellie tells me you're in pain. Where does it hurt?” Jessica the local doctor asks as she comes to sit on the bed beside you. 

“Along my lower back and across my stomach. It’s been on and off since this morning but it’s getting worse.” You clench your teeth as another pain rips through you. 

“Ok. I’m just gonna have a look and see how everything is, ok?” Jessica helps remove your trousers and underwear and begins to examine you. Maria and Ellie are standing on either side of the bed and you turn to Maria who smiles down at you. 

“Any word? Are they ok?” 

She shares a look with Ellie before smiling down at you. “Hey. They’ll be ok. It’s Joel and Tommy, ain’t nothing gonna happen.”

“I need him here. I can’t do this without him.” Your face scrunches in pain as another pain shoots across your stomach. 

“Ok, so you’re 5cm dilated. You need to be at ten to push. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything for the pain but I’m gonna be here the whole time, ok?”

You nod.

“You need to breathe through the pain. In and out. In and out.” Jessica breathes in deeply to show you and you imitate her. “Good. Hopefully, we’ll have a baby soon.”

Jessica orders Maria and Ellie around, getting them to gather supplies and then you all just wait. 

It gets harder and harder to stay quiet through the pain and eventually your cries of pain echo around the room. 

“Go to the gate and see if they’ve heard anything,” Maria asks Ellie and then she’s gone. You turn to Maria who smiles and holds your hand. “I need him.”

“I know. He’ll be here, I promise.” She hopes. 

***

“Ok Y/N, I’m gonna need you to push now, ok?” Jessica asks and you shake your head. 

“No! No, I can’t. Not without him. I need to wait.” You cry in pain as another contraction spikes. 

“I know but the baby is ready to come now. We can’t wait.” Jessica looks at Maria and gives her a knowing look. 

“Y/N, Jessica is right. The baby is ready to come. You can do it; I know you can. Joel would want you to.”

Suddenly the door opens, and all eyes are on the intruder. Joel. 

“Joel!” You cry as you grip Maria’s hand tight, face scrunching in pain. 

“It’s me, baby. I’m here.” He rushes to your side thanking Maria for being there for you. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. 

“I thought you were dead.” You sob as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. He rubs the top of your head gently, soothingly. 

“I know, baby. But I’m alright. I’m here and I’m ready to meet our baby girl.” He turns to Jessica, “is ok if I get on the bed with her?”

“Sure. It might even help.”

Joel takes off his dirty shoes and removes the pillows from behind you, taking their place. He kisses your cheek and holds your hands in his as he whispers words of encouragement. 

“That’s it, baby. Just a little more. You’re doin’ so well.”

You push and push and push and then the room is filled with the cries of a newborn. “Congratulations you two, a beautiful baby girl.”

Jessica hands your baby to Maria who is cleaning her as she cuts the umbilical cord. “I told you it was gonna be a girl, darlin’,” Joel whispers into the shell of your ear as he kisses your neck. “You did so well, baby. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“Guys she is gorgeous,” Maria coos as she hands you your daughter. She is the image of Joel with her brown eyes and a mop of dark hair on her little head. 

You cradle her in your arms and Joel holds you both from behind. A strangled sob escapes his lips, and you turn your head to look back at him. “You, ok?”

He goes to speak but his voice cracks. He closes his eyes for a moment before meeting your worried gaze. 

“She’s beautiful. She looks…. she has Sarah’s eyes.” You smile at him before shifting your gaze to her again. 

“I forgot how small they are,” he whispers from behind you. “Thank you, darlin’. You’ve given me everything today. I still feel like I don’t deserve it but I’m so fuckin’ happy.”

“Can I hold her?” Ellie asks from beside you and you nod your head before handing her gently to her. 

“Mind her head,” Joel says, his face serious as he looks at Ellie. “Don’t worry, I got this.” She beams.

Later that night after you’d delivered the afterbirth and got cleaned up. You relax back against Joel in your shared bed, which is now clean thanks to Maria and Ellie.

Your baby girl is suckling at your breast as you gently rub her cheek. Joel holds you both close as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ellie is gonna call back in the morning and help make breakfast,” he whispers, trying not to disturb the moment. 

You hum. 

“What are we gonna name her?” You ask, gaze focused on your daughter. 

“Whatever you want darlin’.” His hand rests on your daughter's leg, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. 

“How about Olivia Sarah Miller?” You hear him suck in a breath and you turn your head slightly. 

“I love it, darlin’. Sarah she…. she uh…she loved the name, Olivia. Always said if I gave her a sister that’s what she wanted her to be named.” His eyes are glazed over, and a single tear runs down his cheek. 

“Then it’s perfect.” You look down at her once more and smile. “Welcome to the world Olivia.”

***

6 months later…

You wake with a start, hand brushing over to reach your husband only to find the bed empty. Throwing on one of his shirts you make your way next door to check on your daughter but she’s not there either. 

Panic floods you. 

As you make your way downstairs the deep timber of his voice calms your racing heart. Without making a sound, you make your way towards the open door and lean against the frame as you take in the sight of Joel on his rocking chair, Olivia nestled into his side. 

The sight of him with your daughter has your heart racing and the butterflies fluttering within your stomach. Seeing him like this makes you love him even more. 

“I’m gonna build you a swing set right there,” he says as he points to a certain point in the garden.

“Watch you playin’ while me and your momma sit here with our cups of coffee.” You can’t help the snort that passes your lips, and he turns in your direction with a smile on his face.

“Mornin’ darlin’. Sleep ok?” 

“Yeah. When did she wake? I didn’t hear her.” You move off the door frame and walk towards them until you're pulled into Joel’s lap. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips while your daughter giggles beside you. 

“Wanted to let you sleep, darlin’. You’ve been exhausted.”

“You, Joel Miller, are too good to me.” You say softly before leaning in and kissing him. “Will I take her off you now?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. We’re havin’ a good chat ain’t we baby girl?” Olivia coos at her daddy and your heart melts. 

“Ok, well I’ll go and make us some coffee. Be back in a minute,” you say as you stand, kissing Olivia on the cheek and making your way inside. The sound of Joel’s voice fills your senses, and you smile at his words. 

“I love your momma so much, baby girl. I don’t know what I did to deserve her but I’m so grateful she walked into my life and I ain’t ever letting her go.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade

[edges-of-night]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request something? Fellowship x reader where the reader gets injured in a battle or something and confessed their feelings before passing out… and when they wake up they find out their feelings r returned 🤭 I love ur requests they r so very cute! Thank u!

That was such a lovely request to write, nonnie! I’m really sorry you had to wait for it so long. Also, thank you for your kind words!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Initially, Aragorn would not treat you much differently after your recovery – so much so that you start wondering if you actually confessed your feelings to him or hallucinated that whole part. But all Aragorn wants to do is find the right moment to talk to you. Once he does, he’d gently take your hands in his and tell you how much you mean to him – and that your feelings are in fact reciprocated! Confessing your love first gave him the courage to do the same. “I am not well versed in these fields. But I hope I can show you my heart just as bluntly as you did yours.”

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would not be around when you wake up. The others tell you he was simply shocked by your passing out and that he needed time to adjust and would be overjoyed to hear you’re fine – but you suspect it would be something else that scared him away. You’d find him pondering in a lone corner, afraid of how he’ll react to seeing you again – only to see his hardened face light up when your eyes meet his – and then he’d rush to kiss you! “I’ve been a fool for not understanding it sooner. Forgive me…!” ♡

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

I like to think that out of the Fellowship, Frodo would be the most mature to handle your love confession. After all, he knows your injuries aren’t lethal and worries not about what happens next, since he is very clear in his own feelings. After you wake up, he greets you with a smile, takes your hand to make sure you’re fine – and lowers his voice to say, “I’ll call the others right away. But before that, I need you to remember the last thing you said to me. I feel the same.” He’d give you the cutest smile, shining all the way up to his blue eyes.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf, being the one who tried to heal you in the moment you passed out, tries ignoring your dramatic love confession and silently urges the others to forget what they overheard. That said, he is very flattered – after all, he’s been enamoured with you for a while now. Still, his romance is quiet and subdued. He’d sit next to you with a smile when you wake up. At first, you thought his behaviour was unchanged – until he ends his sentences toward you with “darling” or “my dear”. There is a playful spark in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know. (Eventually, he would also spell out ‘I love you too’ in fireworks or butterflies!)

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Gimli stays with you during your recovery, guarding your bed day and night, so dutifully that the others need to remind him of eating. Once you wake up, you’d meet his soft eyes, only to watch them harden when you try to speak to him: “Don’t do that again! Ever!” – “What? Talk to you…?” – “Scare me like that!” he corrects, grumbling into his beard. “What’s a lad supposed to do when his sweetheart passes out in his arms?” You smile blissfully as you understand and offer him a hug that Gimli more than eagerly returns!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is entirely stumped when you pass out after that dramatic “I love you”. There is a frown on his pretty face for the next few hours, waiting for you to wake up again. When you do, you’re terribly embarrassed by the way he’s staring at you through his Elven eyes. He’d fixate you and ask, “Did you mean it? What you said to me?” You’d blush and retort that yes, of course you meant it – and that is enough to make his bright smile and joy return. “What a relief! I feared that if it had been but a fever, my reciprocation would ring false, or sound like a mockery. Please know it’s nothing but the truth!” And he’d take your hands and lean in for a quick and happy kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

At first, Merry would not believe what he heard just before you passed out. During your recovery, he retreats into dark corners to think and rationalise – people say all kinds of stupid things when they thought they were about to die, right? You couldn’t possibly be in love with him – not when there are so many other people – taller people – all around you. So, imagine his surprise when you do ask him for a private conversation after waking up, to set everything straight. Only Merry doesn’t accept your apology. “What’s there to apologise for? You said what you felt in that moment. It’s not like I didn’t like what I heard, I feel the same, after all…” And then, you both share an ‘oh!’ moment before you laugh and fall into the other’s arms!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would initially be overwhelmed by your confession and subsequent passing out. However, he’s positive you’ll be fine, firmly believing that no matter how important, these matters needn’t be so dramatic. He’d treat you as casually as always after your recovery, though you can’t deny there is a spring in his steps and a smile on his face whenever you’re talking. You now know that your feelings are returned, and yet you still blush when he tells you over a shared bowl of strawberries: “I don’t think I’ve told you yet, but I love you, too! Very much so! I’ve thought of a few different pet names to call you, but I wanted to clarify that first. So, just tell me which one you like best…”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam would not leave your side, no matter how long you were passed out. Whenever someone would try and tear him away, he’d explain that he has something very important to discuss with you when you wake up. He would practice romantic speeches and poems to recite for you, really thinking the whole thing through – only to remain absolutely speechless when your eyes do meet his. After your initial greeting – “Thank goodness you’re alive!” – he’d just hold your hand and ask you to stay with him ♡

[alexa-fika]

Just imagine a child reader with each of the crews (strawhat pirates, heart pirates, whitebeard pirates, kid pirates, and red hair pirates) like 7 or 8 and they are just a menace. Like they have insane adhd and acts like they drank multiple monster energy drinks every morning but they can also be so sweet and adorable sometimes. They just run around and cause chaos but everyone on the crew just takes care of them but they make it so hard. Spontaneous hide and seek? Everybody’s freaking out because they’re missing and all the sudden they will just pop out of the most random place and declare themself the winner and everybody is like huh?? the winner of what?? They’ve been there for a while, and people have grown attached. I can imagine ace just having the most fun with them. And for the strawhats like they joined around when the strawhat crew fist went into the grand line so they have been there from the beginning and all the new crew members are like “why are they still here??” and zoro is like “to be honest i dont know” they are luffy’s best bud on the strawhats Sorry for the rant, i just read a fic and it sparked this idea and reminded me of your writing. I just kind of wrote down my train of thought, congratulations if this makes sense to you thanks for listening. 

Who’s it? ( Law x Adhd!reader)

A/N Hey hey! Here we go, I think we haven’t done a Law/heart pirates in a while so yippee, also i’m sorry nonnie, I couldn't do so many crews at once so if you still want to see the other crews don’t be afraid to send another request! In other news; Guys I start work soon 🥲so i’m not sure what the upload schedule will be like next week

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in Japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers!

Penguin puffed as he leaned his hands on his knees, trying to recuperate his breath after running multiple laps around the sub. Despite the physical strain his job required on a daily, especially under a Captain such as his, he could never get used to the exhaustion and anxiety that taking care of a tween with adhd brought.

“D-Did you guys find them?” He sputtered out, lifting his head to look at his crew, who sported similar exhaustion

“No. I’m sorry,” Bepo cried, putting his head down in shame. The mink had been the first to realize the child had disappeared as the crew had breakfast. It was not his responsibility alone, but as always, he could not help but think he could have prevented this if he had paid more attention to them.

“There has to be someplace we haven’t looked!”

“Mate, I checked the workshop top to bottom; wherever they are, I know it's not in my bloody workshop,” Ikkaku said, shaking her head.

“I um.. I checked the cockpit. I didn’t see them there,” Hakugan piped up softly.

“Nothing in the map room, I’m sorry,” Bepo added.

“Stop apologizing!” Shachi snarled

“I’m sorry!”

“Nothing in the Kitchen; I thought for sure they would have hidden there,” Bart grumbled out, scratching his head, confused.

“I checked the common rooms, but I couldn’t find them,” Cline reported

“I checked the storage rooms, but nothing,” Shachi sighed, looking toward the Penguin.

“And I just checked our chambers; I was hoping they were sleeping, but no one was there,” Penguin cried.

“Pen, seriously? Of all things, you thought that ankle-biter would be taking a kip? We can’t even get them to sleep, let alone a kip,” Ikkaku scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

“I freaked out! I just don’t know where else we could look.”

“Well, that would leave only one place, doesn’t it?” Clione called nervously

“No way!” Penguin yelled as he straightened up at the insinuation

“It’s true, isn’t it? We have already looked through the whole sub, Penguin! They have to be in the infirmary.” Uni shot back with a frown

“Even if they aren’t, I think we should ask Captain for help.”

“Are you serious, Uni?! He’ll kill us if he hears we lost them again. I don’t want to go another day with switched limbs!” Shachi shuddered, hugging himself tightly

“It’s not like it can be helped; that kid acts as if they were injected with steroids all the time, always berko, we can’t keep up with em” Ikkaku sighed.

“Okay then, who’s going to tell him then because it’s not going to be me” Penguin questioned, looking up at her

“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” Shachi muttered as he and the crew all turned to the navigator, who, upon noticing the attention that had fallen on him shook his head nervously

Despite his meek outer appearance, it was common knowledge aboard the Polar Tang that the singular best way to deliver annoying or bothersome news without suffering punishment or repercussions was to have Bepo deliver the news to the Captain, as even the surgeon of death himself was vulnerable to the mink’s adorable demeanor.

And so, once again, Bepo stood in the infirmary, delivering such news to the Captain. It followed the same pattern when situations such as these occurred: Bepo would enter nervously, Law would instantly realize something went wrong, his anger would spike, Bepo would cry, Law would fall for his cuteness and usually solve the problem quite promptly.

“Room,” Law called. Scanning the submarine with his devil fruit, he took just a few seconds to mutter a small ‘there’ as he managed to locate the child.

“Shambles,” he spoke, throwing a small stone in the air, catching the child that child that replaced it and glaring at them as they began laughing.”

“You found me!”

“Dokucha-ya. What were you doing?”

“We were playing hide and seek, and I was winning! I still won 'cause you used your powers, and that’s cheating, so I’m still the undefeated champion!” They cheered, raising their hands in Victory

“You were playing hide and seek?” Law questioned, looking up at Bepo, an angry, accusing glare on his face at the information

“N-no!” He promised, shaking his head furiously, sighing as Law turned his accusing glare back on the child.

“Oh! I forgot to tell them. Well, now you know, so let's play again!” they grinned, running off again only to be shambled back into Law’s hands once again.

“No. You are going to sleep.” Law told them, standing up and putting his arm around the child’s stomach as he carried them away, rolling his eyes as they let out a slight whine at the news.

“You can go, Bepo. I’ll put them to sleep,” he ordered, waving the bear off, much to the latter’s relief. The bear wasted no time running off.

“You. Sleep,” he instructed, tossing the child into an infirmity bed, turning around, and walking back to his desk to continue the medical journal he had recently found.

“Yepee!” they cheered as they bounced on the bed. Rolling around on their stomachs, they began kicking their feed, letting out a pout.

“Come on, Law! I’m not tired! I want to play a little more, please?”

“No.”

"Talking is fine, too.”

“Alright, Then. " He agreed, shutting the journal and giving the child a smirk as a hopeful and gleeful expression grew on their faces.

“How about we talked about why you skipped your medication again?”

They groaned, getting their body fall into the bed face-first,wishing they hadn’t opened their mouths to avoid the scolding they knew was now invertible.

“Dokucha-ya,” he warned

“No! I want to sleep!” they called, turning away from him.

“Too late, You know I’m not going to let this slide; the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can stop asking you and interrupting your playtime,” he reasoned, turning his chair towards the bed.

“Is it the taste? I can teach you how to swallow the pill; I can mix it into food as well.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then?”

“It’s nothing.”

“If it weren’t nothing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.Dokucha-ya, listen. If you tell me what is wrong with them, I can fix the problem.”

“They make me feel weird,” they muttered, flipping themselves over to meet his eye, watching as his eyebrows furrowed at the information.

“Weird, how?” he questioned

“It makes me feel yucky; I don’t want to do anything when I eat it.”

Law frowned as he realized what they meant. He had thoroughly researched all of Dokucha’s medicine and potential medicines and was well aware that depression has been previously reported as a side effect for ritalin in some patients. The hard part of medications for conditions like these was that the only way to know the best medicine for them was trial and error, trying different Medicines until they were able to find the one that worked best. His thought process was interrupted as the child let out a small apology.

“it’s not your fault; you can’t control how the medicine will react; thank you for telling me; I will change your medication, alright?” he reassured them as they stood up, walking to the shelf and pulling out a book

“Hmm, we will try Staterra instead. I will give you 0.5g. It’s the lowest dose for your age, and it will help me see how your body reacts.”

“Will… it help me study better again?” they asked nervously, fidgeting. Most of his medical talk was lost to them, but they were able to understand the gist of it: that he was trying to help them fix the problem they were currently experiencing.

“That’s the goal. We will start the medicine tomorrow. If it does well, I will raise the dose in three days, and we will see from there. If it makes you feel weird again, let me know

Dokucha smiled, themedical jargon and what most people would see as an emotionally disconnected doctor Dokucha knew to be the way the man showed that he cared, and although it perhaps wasn’t what other kids might like, it made them feel appreciated and loved. After all, other kids probably have to worry about managing a condition, and not all caretakers are as involved and determined to find a solution as the Captain was, and for them, it was enough.

“Okay!”

Whoop whoop!

[doumadono]

Hiii! How are you?? I don't know if this an emergency but... Can you do any bnha character (I have preference in Kaminari and Sero, but can be anyone you choice) where reader had an s3xu4l 4ss4ult after one party with they males best friends? Who I thought was my best friends end up 4bus1ng me when I was drunk and high, I barely remember what happened after the 4bus3 started.

You can ignore if you don't feel comfortable doing it, thank you for your time 💕

A/N: hiya, Nonnie, I'm doing pretty fine lately. I hope that as of now, you're doing a little better, my dear. I'm truly sorry to hear that you went through such a traumatic experience. It's important to acknowledge that you are not alone, and there are people who care about your well-being. If you're comfortable, consider reaching out to someone you trust, be it a friend, family member, or a mental health professional. Your feelings are valid, and taking steps towards healing is a brave and empowering choice

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Kaminari notices that something is off with you, and his usual, cheerful demeanor turns serious. "Hey, you seem a bit off. Everything okay?"

You, hesitant at first, finally admit, "I… I don't know, Denki. Something happened after one party we attended, and I don't know how to deal with it…"

He approaches you with genuine concern, asking if everything is okay, not pressuring you to share but making it clear he's there for you. "You can tell me anything, okay?"

Eventually, you open up to Kaminari about the sexual assault you experienced, and he listens attentively without judgment. Tearfully, you recount the incident, and Kaminari's expression shifts from shock to empathy. "Oh God, sparks, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Kaminari is incredibly supportive, offering a comforting hand on your shoulder or a gentle hug, letting you know he's there whenever you need him.

He encourages you to take your time to heal, assuring you that there's no rush, and your well-being is the top priority. "Take your time. I'm here to listen and help, and we'll figure this out together."

Kaminari makes it clear that you're welcome to share as much or as little as you're comfortable with. "Your feelings are valid, and I'm here to support you through all of it," he says, acknowledging the emotional weight of your words.

He suggests spending time together doing activities that you enjoy, helping to create a sense of normalcy and safety.

Kaminari gently suggests seeking professional help, understanding that it's a sensitive topic but emphasizing the importance of your mental health. "I've heard that talking to a professional can really help. I'll be here for you every step of the way."

He offers to accompany you to appointments or assist in finding resources if you decide to pursue anything. "We can look into options together if you want. Your well-being is what matters most," he adds, reassuringly.

While Kaminari remains a supportive presence, he doesn't shy away from expressing his anger at the situation, making it clear that what happened was not okay. "What happened was not okay. Not fucking okay! You deserve to feel safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you do, sparks."

Kaminari consistently checks in on you, not as an obligation but because he genuinely cares. He wants to ensure you feel supported throughout your healing process.

Understanding that trust might be a delicate issue, Kaminari reassures you that he's committed to earning and maintaining your trust at your own pace.

Bonus!

When Kaminari is not with you, the weight of your pain becomes almost unbearable for him. Alone in his room, Kaminari often finds himself succumbing to waves of grief, alternating between tears and bursts of anger. The helplessness of not being able to protect you eats at him, and he struggles to contain his overwhelming emotions.

To Kaminari, you are more than a significant other; you're his source of brightness, his spark. The thought of someone dimming that light, causing you pain, strikes him to the core.

The emotional turmoil reaches a boiling point, leading to moments where Kaminari angrily punches his pillow or the wall. The frustration at being unable to turn back time and protect you fuels these outbursts.

Kaminari, unable to contain his emotions any longer, reaches a breaking point. The anger and frustration of not being able to protect you gnaw at him, pushing him to seek solace in someone he knows understands intensity — Katsuki Bakugo.

Kaminari, with a heavy heart, briefly shares the situation with Bakugo, the details too painful to express fully. "I can't take it anymore, man. I need to do something about it. I need your help. They hurt her, man. I wasn't there, and I can't let it slide. It's eating me alive."

Bakugo, though gruff, recognizes the gravity of the situation and doesn't dismiss Kaminari's emotions. "We need Kirishima and Sero. Get 'em here."

Bakugo's explosive anger surfaces, as the four sit together, thinking of a plan. "Anyone who thinks they can get away with hurting our friends is dead fucking wrong. We're gonna show 'em to not mess with us, for fuck's sake."

[fayes-fics]

hello!! can I please get a drabble that takes place in the 70s with artist boho slut benedict x reader? thank you 🙈

Kinktober: Benedict + Chem / High Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, Modern 1970s AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, use of recreational drugs, sexual acts while high/under the influence, 69 position, oral sex (m to f, f to m) blowjob and cunnilingus, facesitting, vaginal fingering, deepthroat.

Author’s note: hi Nonny. Well, this request immediately made me think of boho hippy artist Ben selling his art at a music festival and voila, a whole AU was born for me. Honestly, this universe was so fun I might write more in the future 😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You have a cock in your mouth when the drug kicks in. A corkscrew of colour swimming before your eyes has you pausing to make a noise of surprise, not just because of the fantastic suction around your clit.

“Holy shit….” you mumble, pulling up to take a breather.

“It kicked in, huh?” Benedict smirks as you look down between your legs to his handsome face.

“Yeah… fuckkkkk,” you stutter, unmoored.

This wasn't how you envisioned this music festival going, but damn, if you aren't having the time of your life.

Just an hour ago, you arrived as the sun set, still yet to find your friends, when you stumbled upon a stall selling captivating artwork. You felt utterly compelled to purchase a piece, even before you saw the beautiful, square-jawed, blue-eyed, topless man selling it.

Daisy chains looped into his wavy chestnut locks, flared jeans hanging dangerously low over an Adonis belt—a Grecian statue made flesh. By the time he informed you that he was indeed the artist and, after a few drinks, offered you a tab of something to “start your festival right”, you were already his.

And so here you now, in the back of his VW bus, windows concealed by vibrant tie-dyed fabrics, chemicals coursing in your bloodstream as you bring each other pleasure. Sitting naked upon his face, draped over his warm body, his cock in your mouth. A circuit of decadent, lush delight. And now….

Now, every feeling is heightened.

You dive back onto him with something approaching ferocity, savouring his silken but steely cock passing through your lips, each contour sparking synesthesia behind your eyelids. When his tongue ploughs deep into your pussy it ripples up your insides into your belly, settling as a fire behind your ribs. And when he sucks your clit, it’s as if you can trace the signal racing to your brain from those millions of afferent nerve endings.

Strains of music from the distant soundstage seep through the popped skylight above as his long, artistic fingers swirl patterns on the notches of your spine. His sinewy arms wrapped tight around your hips, encouraging you to use his face and tongue as if he were a vessel built purely for your enjoyment.

And fuck if he isn't—he tastes, embodies, and imbues hedonism. His skin is smooth and smells of citrus, earthy bark and charcoal. His cock is perfect, a delight that fills your mouth and makes your bones liquefy at the idea he might fuck you.

You spiral your tongue around his head in a tempo to match the tattoo his drums over your clit, all your concentration pinpointed on these mirrored movements, sinful unhurried sensualism. Luxuriating as if you have hours to spend together, with no destination in mind other than a memorable experience. 

When he buries two fingers inside you, your cry muffled around his cock, you can feel his smirk in the stubble abraiding your labia. Well, if he wants to notch things a little higher….

Mind looping with rainbows, you take a deep breath and sink until his cock is in your throat. The feral sound he makes hot against your clit like another drug you could get addicted to. He groans your praises, a hand straying into your hair to hold your head down, his plush lips snagging your engorged pearl as you hold still, images of colourful dancing bears before your eyes, each bearing his face contorted with ecstasy. Something about him makes you want to be the best he has ever had. Make him not want to leave your side; make him not want to get dressed ever again; just spend eternity entwined in your body.

You pull up, and then after a few deep sucking draws that have him groaning and begging, you sink down again, fighting the need to breathe, captivated by each novel new image your mind supplies. All the while, he tries to match you, lashing your clit, fingers drumming your g spot as the other wraps your ponytail around his fist. When you whimper around him, his sac tightens against your nose.

“Fuck, I'm going to come,” he growls in warning, yet still you stay, knowing what is coming and craving it.

A pulse runs the length of his cock, and then you feel it, a thick salty rope shooting right into your throast that tastes like victory and desire. You suck and swallow all you can as you pull up, needing to breathe, and as he sings your praises, you nuzzle him, licking him clean as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.

“Your turn,” his warning glittering and smokey with promise. 

It's then you experience your first orgasm high on drugs. Your body on fire as he expertly suckles, swirls, and even bites your swollen, soaked flesh, fingers buried deep in your leaking pussy, like he lives only for your nectar and rapture.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, as you keep kissing his cock while it softens, something for you to wrap your lips around, to muffle your screams as he pushes you towards heights you have never scaled. Hyperaware of everything: sounds, smells, his touch, the sight of him pinned under you, so very eager to please. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers together tightly just as you tumble over the edge. 

Fireworks, lightning, strobe lights, all multicoloured, going off in your mind as you float high above as if an untethered balloon, at once a million miles away and yet also rooted so deep in your body, feeling everything in every nerve, every cell, every synapse fire. 

He moves behind you as you collapse to one side, breathlessly panting, mind adrift, curling up almost foetal, overloaded by everything. Wrapping his warm body like a protective shell around you, his nose buried in your hair, his arms caging you, his legs bracketing yours.

“That was transcendent. Truly magical,” he murmurs, dazed, and you have to agree.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

[tswaney17]

Happy New Year Tay! You are one of my favorite writers in this fandom. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your writing process:

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

How do you find new fic to read?

Who do you read?

How do you decide what to write?

Are there any tropes you dislike?

What's your favorite AU that you've written?

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

f you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

Do you visualize what you read/write?

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that."

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic?

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Aww, nonnie. 🥲 Thank you so much! And Happy New Year to you too!! 🥂 I hope I answered these okay. LOL.

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) Oh man, that's hard. I'd say Secret Sessions for canon-related, and IDBTWY or Accidental Chemistry for modern.

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics? Probably slow burn. And pregnancy AU. I know it's not everyone's favorite, but I always end up writing Elriel pregnant. LMAO.

How do you find new fic to read? Frankly, since I've stopped writing, I've been devouring fanfic. I hit up AO3 nearly every day to see if there's anything new. And I have this logic that if I subscribe to a crap ton of fics, I'll hopefully get an update to at least one of them weekly. It's not a flawless system but I get the most out of it.

Who do you read? I honestly read everybody as long as I am confident that Elriel is endgame. I will side-eye anything that as El*cien or Gw*nriel as a potential pairing and will skim first to ensure I'll be able to make it through the story. But I have my go-to's like @nikethestatue and @dottielovegood (amongst many others), and I've found some newbies (or new to me) on AO3 and have been devouring their fics. A few that come to mind are @jasmineandcedar and @merakimoonglade but there are many more.

How do you decide what to write? Through utter chaos that is my brain. Sometimes I'll see little things on Insta or Pinterest that'll spark ideas while others will just kind of hit me out of nowhere. Kind of like this feral Az/Elriel miscarriage that's been floating around in my brain for weeks.

Are there any tropes you dislike? I am over the girlboss warrior trope. There's so much of that written that it's just boring to me. I also hate the cheating trope. I just can't read those.

What's your favorite AU that you've written? Honestly, that's hard. IDBTWY has a very special place in my heart, but Secret Sessions might be the best writing I've ever done. I'm also a sucker for Accidental Chemistry too.

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it? Probably that feral Az/Elriel miscarriage I mentioned above. It'd be very angsty and heartbreaking but so delicious. Oh! I also have this Archeron-witch AU that's been wracking my brain forever that's based on The Originals. I have a few scenes of it written but just couldn't get into the right headspace to bust it out completely.

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Hmm. Secret Sessions deserves an epilogue and I did start to write one a long time ago. But the idea sputtered out and I never got more than a page written. Also, my fic Queen of Monsters would definitely benefit from a sequel but I'm just going to leave that one alone.

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve? I could see writing a spin-off for IDBTWY for each of the other siblings tbh. I have no idea what those stories would include, but I think it's the best setup for any sort of spin-off. Or maybe a next-gen for IDBTWY. I have thought of things for the kids if that ever came to pass.

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Frenemies would probably benefit from a prequel. You very much jump right into the mess but elaborating on how Elain and Az worked together before they fucked would've been interesting.

If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be? Lucien realizing the bond is broken in Secret Sessions. I had so many people ask about what he felt and if the bond was gone and I just left it up to interpretation.

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write? I honestly don't use a lot of resources when I write. I Google things when I need to do some research and I have Grammarly to assist with the grammar side of things (which is far from perfect), but other than that, I really don't have much else. Big fics get inspo boards on Pinterest though.

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? No dialogue. There are some really amazing writers in this fandom that can invoke such an intense emotional response from readers simply by describing the scene without having the characters speak at all. I feel like both @dottielovegood and @violetasteracademic are exceptional at this. I would love to be able to do this as well as them.

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process. IDBTWY took four years and it was chaos. I didn't really have an outline that went further than chapter 7 until I was well into the 20s and finally outlined the remaining 15 chapters. Do not recommend at all. I'm honestly surprised how much I was able to loop back in later on in the fic despite my unorganization of it. @nikethestatue can tell you I often went to her and asked if something occurred in my fic because I couldn't even remember. LOL.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who? No, I don't have a beta reader and I probably should. I do give out snippets to friends though, but mostly to be a tease.

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? LMAO. Unholy (my Azriel priest fic) was so far outside my comfort zone. Not just because I'm not religious and likely wrote phrases and scenes that didn't make sense to the setting, but just the idea of having Azriel as a priest fuck Elain on the goddamn altar of the church. Good lord, I blushed writing it and I blushed reading it even to this day. I honestly haven't written anything since this, but I think it helped me to push through my mental barriers of writing something so outrageous.

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life? I know I've said this a few times, but Accidental Chemistry is loosely based on my best friend. Some of the things Elain experienced happened with her and the fic honestly hit home because of the close, personal ties. Also, Elain's obsession with creamer in every fic is my self-insert and you can't take that away from me. LOL.

Do you visualize what you read/write? Always. I often think of scenes when I'm laying in bed trying to sleep at night. I don't know if it helps put me to sleep or keeps me up because I'm constantly turning things over in my mind.

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it? Who's Afraid of Little Old Me, my Tangled Retelling fic. I absolutely loved writing this one and doing the role reversal swap on Elain and Az was such an interesting story to write. It barely got any traction in comparison to others and I was honestly surprised by it.

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful? IDBTWY became fairly popular tbh, likely because the fandom was wildly engaged at the time when I first started writing it. But A Surprise Bun got more popularity than I thought it would. Enough so that I wrote two extra parts for it (technically three since it was originally intended to be a one-shot). I loved writing the dynamic between Elriel and Cassian.

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? I'm a heavy rereader. I will go back and reread specific scenes, entire series, etc. Don't threaten me with a good time.

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that." There are so many creative writers out there and I know that I'm missing a lot, but @impossiblescissorspeachpaper, @merakimoonglade, and @violetasteracademic have incredible prose and dialect in their writing. I am envious of their talent. Truly.

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason? I've received such amazing comments from readers and I treasure every single one. But there's been a handful of times where somebody has said that my fic was the first they read in the acotar fandom, or that it's their favorite ever, or that they were so invested in it even though they don't ship Elain and Azriel...and just reading those comments makes me feel so valued. To say that about my writing is such an honor.

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic? I think my style of writing has definitely improved since I started. If you compare the first part of Across the Hallway (my very first fic) to my most recent ones, especially ones like Wildest Dreams or even my A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You series, you can definitely see the difference in my writing.

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write? I'm a laptop writer. If I write on my phone, I'll note it because it will likely have more errors. I've only written two fics on my phone tbh. My "fast phone fics."

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it? I read Wonderstruck by @mirrorballpages and it is phenomenal. Highly, highly recommend it.

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! Oh man. I've got wips for Accidental Chemistry, this Italy-based heartbreaker that will likely never be published. I've got pieces of a post-acosf fic that will never see the light of day. Random scenes for that witch AU. I haven't been writing fic since Elriel Month, tbh. I've been more focused on my IDBTWY rewrite for publishing. But... I suppose if I do end up writing fic again, it'll be Accidental Chemistry. So here's an unedited snippet of it.

It was something he noticed the other night when he cradled the boy to his chest, promptly getting him to finally settle enough to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his heartbeat or the warmth of his skin or the deep sound of his voice as he softly sang a lullaby his mother used to hum to him or a combination thereof, but Oliver always seemed content in his arms.

[liminalpebble]

Hi ya, my ask would be for Loki....

For some reason his magic is glitching. He needs to understand why before anyone finds out.

Oddly, when he's around [insert character name] the effect is better/worse*

*delete as appropriate

Hello dear nonny!

Sorry it has taken me a thousand years to write this. It's kind of a long one but I hope it warms your heart. It's kind of silly and fluffy but unexpectedly emotionally real. I hope you enjoy.

CW: Fluff, all fluff. Loki x gn reader, surprisingly wholesome, just bit of cussing.

----

The Glitch

“DAMN!” Loki screamed for the tenth time that morning, smacking his fist against the kitchen counter. In the privacy of his quarters at Avengers Tower, the god of mischief was having a horrible morning.

He woke up as usual and tried to spark up the green glow of his magic to help him get ready more quickly for the day. Although long hot showers were pleasant to him, so was sleeping in after reading late into the night. Being able to magic oneself clean and ready for the day in seconds was a major convenience...one he had always taken for granted.

Although his fist was no longer magically charged, the strength of his hand still left divots in the counter top, frustrating him further. Finally the god of mischief screamed so loudly and smacked the wall so hard in rage that it was a miracle the whole building didn't hear it.

He was very lucky, in that case, that there was only one person walking quietly through the hall to the morning meeting (something Steve cutely called the “Superhero Roundtable”). You rolled your eyes thinking of the name, but Steve was too much of a sweetheart to burst his bubble about it. As your steps clicked over the polished floors you were feeling a bit proud of yourself that you would actually be early for once.

“DAMMIT!! NORNS SPIT UPON YOU, YOU HORRIBLE FICKLE FORCES.”

You jumped at the sudden avalanche of sound. His biting baritone tirade crashed into the hall from behind Loki's door. Your superhuman reflexes were the only thing keeping your files and your coffee from hitting the floor. Sighing in exasperation, you considered whether or not to get involved with whatever the hell this was. Ever since you joined the team a few days ago, your dramatic Asgardian coworker was none too thrilled to have another non-human demigod on the roster. Sharing the spotlight was never his forte and he made it everyone's problem, especially yours.

But...you were kind, sometimes to a fault. The idea of simply waking by and ignoring him, of enjoying some schadenfreude as this arrogant ass was finally being inconvenienced by something, was incredibly tempting. But pity welled up in your heart, knowing what it's like to be a stranger in a strange land, to feel alone and angry, so you knocked on the door despite being afraid of whatever hurricane was behind it.

Loud steps trudged closer, then the door swung open as Loki barked, “WHAT do you WANT?!”

You took a step back, eyes wide and coffee still death-gripped in one hand.

“I...uh...I heard you screaming, and breaking things. You know, you'll never get your deposit back if you keep it up,” you attempted to joke, painting an uncertain smile across your face, brows peaked in concern.

His aquamarine eyes stared down, boring into yours as he clenched his jaw, then said dryly, “How very perceptive of you.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “God, you're such a bellend.”

He flinched at the insult. He didn't know what “bellend” meant, but he could infer from your tone that it was not a compliment. As he tried to swing the door shut again, you slapped it back open, “But! I really am concerned about you, so can you please let me know what's wrong?”

“Nothing!” he growled out, chest heaving.

Your eyes scanned him up and down, taking in his disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and the slew of objects strewn across his living room. “I'm not an idiot, Loki. I can see the obvious. Will you please just talk to me?”

He flinched again, this time struck by the genuine care in your voice and in your eyes. It rendered him uncharacteristically unsure of what to say or do. As he paused and you stepped closer, he could feel the surge of his magical energy building back up within him. Loki's face suddenly cracked into an unnerving gleeful grin. He hastily cast a green glow over his body, rendering himself dressed, scrubbed, and ready for the day. Although he knew he might be stretching his luck, he waved a hand behind him to reset the apartment back to its immaculate order. To his delight, it worked. “I'm ready, your highness. Let's go, shall we,” he said lightly, as if he wasn't in a tyrannical rage moments earlier.

You stared, eyes and mouth wide open in confusion, then shook your head and shrugged. “Whatever, Vlad the Complainer. Let's just go,” you said, striding quickly down the hall towards the conference room.

The demigod strutted after you, in much less of a hurry, until he felt the magic within him wither and shrink as the distance between you increased. He gingerly tested a theory, picking up his pace so he gained on you. As he suspected, each step closer caused his magic to re-energize within him.

Damn he thought with a huff, as the two of you entered the conference room, just in time. You settled in the only two seats left at the table, next to each other.

Great. You thought, realizing that at least for the next few hours, you would be stuck next to the intergalactic diva. That's what I get for being nice.

-------

The meeting went on far too long, but while Steve droned on, you turned the issue of Loki around in your mind. He sat next to you, not bothering to hide his boredom; arms crossed, chin tilted haughtily and legs spread wide. By the end of the first hour, you finally couldn't stand his long limbs sprawled out into your own space, so you swiftly kicked his shin under the table. He glared, but the message was received, loud and clear, as he wheeled his chair slightly away from you and crossed his legs.

As you touched, it happened yet again, the flaring of your own magic levels and a definite feeling of transfer to him. You could sense it ever since he answered his door this morning; the fluctuating magic. It didn't take you long to put two and two together. His magic was faltering, and for no reason you could discern, your proximity was jump-starting it again. You made a mental note to immediately drag Loki with you to Bruce to get this all sorted out.

You're welcome, Loki. You thought to yourself, considering that you could have just brought it up here in the larger group to get everyone working on the problem, but you instead decided to preserve his fragile pride. Finally, Steve dismissed everyone and you waited until the room was completely empty with a hand on Loki's arm, urging him to stay seated as well.

When you were alone, Loki took the opportunity to speak first. “Well, well, wellll,” he teased, “eager to prolong my charming presence, darling, and just the two of us, no less.” He winked and smiled. And although it was corny it was also devastatingly sexy coming from his stupid handsome face.

“Can you, for once, cut the crap? Just tell me what the fuck is going on with your powers.”

Those gorgeous icy eyes went even wider than usual, as he forced out a breathy chuckle while saying, “Why, what ever do you mean?”

Your expression remained knowing and unamused as you explained. “I know, Loki, I can feel the movement of my magic in my body, just like you can, and I can tell when someone's siphoning off of it like a gas tank. We have to go to Bruce, see if he can sort it...”

“NO.” he growled, deep and articulate, close to your face, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can you put your enormous ego on a shelf for a few moments and just go with me? This won't just fix itself, you know.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

“You're welcome,” you quipped as you already left your chair and made your way to the lift. Loki was dragging his feet until he felt the magic seep away as you left. Reminded of his predicament, he jumped up and followed closely.

------

Several hours later you were sitting in a strange plastic shell of an observation room with Loki, a transparent, zipped divider between you. You sat in opposite corners trying to get comfortable while Bruce ran his tests, sometimes unzipping the middle panel, and sometimes closing it again to isolate each of you. Dr. Banner's warm voice rang in through the intercom as he looked through the observation window, “You okay in there, kid? Got everything you need for awhile?”

You laughed. “I'm 100 years old, Bruce, and I'm totally fine,” you said gesturing to your comfortable pajamas, piles of books, laptop, pillows and blankets. “It's...uh...it's like a slumber party. I'm doing great.”

“Except for the company,” Loki quipped under his breath, as he sat against the wall reading, not raising his eyes for a moment. Unlike you, Loki refused any creature comforts besides a book to keep him occupied over what would probably be long hours of testing.

---

When you arrived at the lab earlier that day, Bruce welcomed you warmly with a kind hug and chit chat. He definitely did not do the same for Loki. Instead he frowned warily and gave him a wide berth. After a few initial tests you asked, “What's the verdict?”

“Well, it looks like you two have powers that behave on similar principles but for some reason, they're interfering with each other like when radio signals cross...or maybe more like magnetic fields...still figuring that out...anyway. We never knew about this problem before because we never had two...uh...similar beings living in the same building. To bring it all back to normal, I need to find a way to separate the signals and keep it that way...some device to wear or even a nano device planted under the skin.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki said, brows furrowed and expression indignant. “You want to cut open my skin and implant something?”

Bruce smiled wryly. “You're making it sound medieval. I'm not chopping anyone open. It would be a tiny laparoscopic incision. It would take seconds and then you'd be back to normal.”

“That's great news!” you chirped.

Dr. Banner, held up his hand. “but I have to keep you both here for an extended period of time to collect enough data...eight hours or more. It might be best if you come in the evening and just sleep overnight. That way I can take readings and it won't interfere with whatever else you have to do today. It might not be the most comfortable sleeping ara...”

You put a hand on Bruce's arm. “It's fine, Bruce. I just appreciate your help.”

Loki was still glaring, arms crossed, but nodded his reluctant agreement to the arrangement.

-----

So now, here you were, locked in a bubble with Loki until morning. You almost wished the divider in the middle were opaque, so it could block his moody glares and sidelong glances. Although you bristled at his comment, you made the best of things, arranging your blankets and pillows and reading a book just as you would if you were in your own bed, in your own quarters.

Before long you heard huffs of annoyance and shuffling coming from the other side. You ignored him until you found yourself reading the same page three times because of the interruption. Finally, you gave in.

You looked over to your cellmate and asked blandly, “Can I help you?”

He grunted. “I can't get comfortable.”

“Yeah. You didn't bring a sleeping bag or blanket or pillow or anything.”

He stepped closer to the divider, as did you. “Well, I thought I could conjure what I needed. I didn't think the good doctor would ask us not to actively use our powers.”

You tutted. “A remarkable lack of foresight from the god of cunning.”

He put his hands on his hips and be began to rush his words out, “And I should have...what? Made my side look like a damn nursery as yours does? With those bizarre creatures, and that atrocious nightwear. I am a god, not a toddler.”

You braced yourself, responding as he paced. “Well, for one fucking thing those creatures are called Squishmallows and they are incredibly comfortable as pillows...and they're cute. They make me smile, Loki.”

The god of mischief raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically and derisively at a large plushy winking mango you had been using as a pillow. He asked, “And what is this apparel you have donned for your captivity.”

You blushed, looking at the zip-up hooded onesie you were wearing, and mumbled, “Shut up. It's warm and very soft on the inside.”

“In the semblance of what? A bear?”

“A capybara.”

“A what?”

“A capybara. They're cute and peaceful...look a bit like overgrown guinea pigs?”

His face screwed up into a a cringe. “I wouldn't know. I haven't been spending my long godly lifespan on a silly little eternal holiday, playing with midgardians and forsaking my dignity,” he pronounced loudly, in his most aristocratic tone.

You were now facing each other only inches apart, breaths fogging the plastic divider, arms crossed pugnaciously. You paused, gathering what little patience and compassion you had left to muster, then asked. “And which of us seems happier, Loki? Hmm?”

You didn't wait for a reply, knowing it would just raise your dander even more. Loki, however, found he didn't have any rebuttal. He watched, puzzled, as you crossed the room and spoke something Loki couldn't hear into the intercom. He watched curiously, as a lab technician took several pillows and blankets from you and brought them to Loki in the other compartment.

He held them, staring blankly at the pile in his arms. You held back a chuckle at the incongruity of the scene; the proud ancient god in his regal clothes holding a pile of soft, pastel-colored material.

To your surprise, he spread them out very carefully, returned to the divider and said quietly, “Thank you.”

As he was turning to resume his pacing at the far end, you finally asked, “Loki. Why do you hate me so much? What do you have against me? I've been nothing but kind to you...even kinder because I know what it is to be like us...to be the only ones like us, alone and misunderstood in a foreign world.”

You tried to keep the hurt from your voice, but it seeped in, and the perceptive Asgardian saw it easily. Loki's stony face softened unexpectedly, eyebrows peaked in concern and a little shame at his behavior.

“Look...I...I don't hate you. I just....I took me years...years to gain the midgardians' trust after...everything. And then it took so much time and so much effort for these Avengers in particular to accept me, respect me, acknowledge me as someone other than Thor's little bastard brother and a nuisance to the planet. But eventually, finally, I had my identity as unique and glorious and a vital member of the team and finally...finally even, perhaps, gaining friends here.”

His voice dropped to an angrier growl, “But then there was you, and in mere days...days...all of that had unraveled because of you; because of your understanding of their ways, and your intelligence and your skills and....and your kindness...your incredible, unwavering kindness.”

He sat down heavily, slouching with a bowed head, as a barely perceptible tear rolled down his cheek.

There were a few moments of silence as you came closer to the divider sitting down to match him on the other side of the plastic wall. “Loki,” you said so softly, putting your hand up on the divider.

He raised his head and met your eyes, this time not bothering to hide his tears as he barked, “Spare me your pity!”

“I don't pity you,” you said, and he could see you were telling the truth. “But I do feel for you because I have been where you are. I'm sure none of it has been easy for you, but Loki, I've wanted to be your friend since I arrived here. I'd heard all about you...all those good things you said they finally thought and felt about you were the things I heard. I was honestly, a little star-struck over you.”

He chuckled at that. “Really? Star-struck?”

“Yeah. You seemed so fascinating, and bright, and...well...and handsome obviously.”

He smiled broadly at that.

“Yeah. Yeah. Don't let it go to your head. I know everyone says that about you.”

He looked puzzled. “Actually, no one has said that to me.”

“Well. I assure you, they all think it.”

He smiled, looking you up and down in your ridiculous plush onesie and said, “And you're very...I don't remember their word for it...yndig in your...your....”

You smiled and chuckled, “In English the word is 'adorable' and I think this thing is called a onesie...which..actually is also what they call the ones babies wear so I guess you're a bit right.”

Now he was laughing too and neither of you could stop.

----

In the morning Dr. Banner smiled triumphantly as he strode into the isolation room. He held up two little syringes and said, “I've got it, you two! I hope you haven't torn each other's throats out after we unzipped the barrier.”

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the two of you curled up together in a pile of blankets and pillows. The laptop was still streaming movies you had long since fallen asleep during. Loki's hand was around your shoulders and your sleepy head was resting in the crook of his neck. Sometime during the night, you had even convinced Loki to don your extra onesie (a black cat). Then, dressed up like animals, you had snuggled together and drifted off that way.

Bruce smiled, chuckled and walked right back out, deciding to let you both sleep a little longer.

He shrugged and quipped, “Guess it was a good slumber party.”

@goblingirlsarah @lokihiddleston @lokisgoodgirl @unlucky-number-13 @thedistractedagglomeration @gigglingtiggerv2 @muddyorbs @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @joyful-enchantress @marcotheflychair @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @loz-3 @loopsisloops @peachyjinx @peaches1958 @lokischambermaid @ladyofthestayingpower @sweetsigyn @november-rayne @little-wormwood @littlespaceyelf @mochie85 @sarahscribbles @alexakeyloveloki @holdmytesseract

[anjelicawrites]

So, this is about the war boys polycule. How did they all get together? Was the reader with Tom first and then they were joined by Billy? Or the other way around? Or even Tom and Billy together first and then they invited the reader to join? I would love to see what their first time together was like, if you’re up for writing it.

This came out longer than it was supposed to be nonnie, I'm sorry (?)

Warnings: jealousy, kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, a bit of chocking, overstimulation. A/N: reader is AFAB and is nondescript (Tom only calls them "good girl" once, they/them pronouns used if needed.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

They find you at the pub, morose and drunk as you mull over your memories with Billy. You are too far gone to truly hear Billy's worried remarks and it's up to Tom to lift you up and carry you bridal style to your small flat.

You never meant to put a wench in their friendship, never meant to be that person, you never thought Tom would be interested in you; he did flirt with you while you were interviewing him, but he did it with everyone at the military hospital and with half of the pub, the night the whole of London was celebrating the end of the war and you wanted to do some private celebration with sweet Billy. You never meant to hurt Tom and their disagreement around your budding relationship with Billy came as a nasty surprise that woke you up from your post war fantasies, and forced you to choose between being a good person or a selfish one.

You've seen too much death and destruction in your job as a reporter during the war to cause damages yourself: this was the only reason why you told them with tears in your voice

"I'm out. I'm not going to be the person that destroys your friendship."

To then leave, deaf to Billy calling your name and dodging Tom's hand that tried to grab your wrist.

You disappeared into the crowd and, hopefully, from their lives, hoping that the damages weren't so big that they couldn't be fixed.

Tom's warmth and tobacco scent envelops you, lulling you into a deep sleep, aided by your drunken state. You don't hear the sounds of the city around you, nor them discussing whether or not they should put you in bed dressed, only to decide to remove your shoes and roll you in all the blankets you own. You don't hear them settle in your small living room, nor feel the soft kiss Billy leaves on your temple: you're dead to the world and to the thought that you've lost your chance at happiness.

When you wake up, the morning after, you're hangover and confused: it's not the first time you get drunk, but you've never left your shoes tidily next to the door, not you had ever wrapped yourself in so many blankets. Then you hear movement from the living room and worry sparks in your belly: who is in your small flat with you?

Grabbing your shoe as a weapon you swing the bedroom door open, only to be welcomed by the sight of Tom attacking your secret stash of biscuits and Billy drinking tea with a straight back.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

You say, before dashing to the loo to throw up all the alcohol you've managed to drink yesterday.

In between retching you hear their voices from beyond the closed door and elect to ignore them. You still play deaf while you wash your face and brush your teeth: what the hell happened last night?

You receive your answer during breakfast, while munching on the almost burnt toasts Billy made for you, since Tom has finished all your biscuits!

"And why are you two still here?".

Billy's cheeks burn fire red and he almost loses the hold on your grandma's teacup, Tom stares at you as if ready to fight.

"Billy and I discussed our situation." He then says. "The situation being me destroying your friendship?" "No. Us two being both interested in you and you feeling the same." Tom concludes. "I have some very hot tea at hand." "And we have a proposal for you."

Billy's voice cuts through the tension between you and Tom.

"And what's that?"

You're walking back and forth like a caged beast, the unlikely duo staring at you.

"Are you two serious? Don't answer that!" You pace some more. "You two really think that is a good idea? All of us together?" "You want us love and we want you as well." Tom says.

He's right and you know it.

You've been with Billy, you've chosen him but are not immune to Tom's roguish charm, if you have to be absolutely sincere with yourself.

"I need to think about it and I need time."

Tom isn't too thrilled when you tell them that they need to go back to the military hospital still housing them, where their friendship started; Billy looks at you, concerned that the idea might offend you, when you simply need to be on your own to mull everything over.

The assignment in Scotland, to cover one of the prisoner camps for the enemy soldiers, comes as a relief: you need to focus on something else that's not you, Billy and Tom.

Not that you can leave your memories back in London, they pop up in your mind when you curl under the covers in the drafty pub room you're occupying: Billy's reddened face when you first french kissed him or how he looked like he was going to have a coronary when he first saw you naked, Tom's rakish smile and the way he would look at you, how much your heart was torn between the two friends.

Does it have to be that way, though? Is there a way for their idea to truly function?

You work, write your assignments and eat the terrible food of the pub with those questions playing in the background of your mind as you ask yourself if you have the courage to say yes: you've done so many dangerous things during the war, yet none had ever felt like starting such a strange chapter of your life.

The part of your brain that has been facepalming at your terrible decision making, since you decided to start a career in journalism, is screaming at how stupid you are, how crazy this is. You never cared before and as sure as hell you don't now that Billy is on his knees, blushing as he helps you out of your stockings and panties and Tom is opening your blouse to gently fondle your breasts as he kisses your neck.

The bed is somewhere behind you three but it doesn't matter, Tom is keeping you upright as Billy's tongue licks your folds slowly, with long sweeps from your hole to your clit that make your knees wobble. His tongue leisurely explores every inch of your cunt; the wetter you are, the easier it is for him to switch between vertical sweeps and round ones that have his mouth plastered against your cunt, until his lips find your clit and latch there with a moan that makes you keen.

Your body arches when Billy's fingers slip inside your hole slowly, you've taught him how to drive you absolutely mad, and you barely notice one of Tom's hands traveling down your body to grab Billy's hair to keep him close to your center, not when Billy's pads find that place that has you whine like a hurt animal the more he fucks against it.

You come with a scream and the pleasure doesn't stop: Tom is keeping Billy's face against your cunt and Billy is all too eager to keep tasting you, after all those days apart. His hands grab your hips when you try to squirm away as Tom's hand curls gently around your throat when you start begging and whining because the pleasure is too much, too intense, too much pressure ready to explode in your tummy and it doesn't stop when you come again and again, until your body falls against Tom, only then they lay you on the bed to finish peeling your clothes off.

You feel like your mind is floating, tired as you are you cuddle closer to Billy, who is laying next to you: you are so tired you're ready to sleep. With your eyes closed you snuggle in his clean scent and don't hear Tom moving towards you, one of his big hands gently cups your wet cunt and you moan, so oversensitive already.

"Shh, I need to prepare you." He says, his voice uncharacteristically devoid of his usual abrasive tone. "Tom please." You're not sure what you're begging for, more pleasure or mercy from them; you don't have time to truly think about it, Billy gently turns your head so that your foreheads can touch.

"Can we?" He asks, still as shy as he was the first time he slept with you. "Yes." You whisper back.

You're not sure your body can manage more pleasure but you're happy to try, for your sweet Billy, and for Tom as well.

Tom's long fingers slip inside of you, you're so wet it's so easy for him to start scissoring you with squelching sounds that would embarrass you, if you weren't too focused in kissing Billy as one of his hands cups your breast to gently massage it, in stark contrast with the way Tom is fucking against your poor G spot: fast and deep pushes that make your whole body tremble and your muscles curl brutally around him, pleasure burning through your body until you're certain you're going mad with it, instead it explodes inside of you and you whine in Billy's mouth as full body shakes ravage your body.

Tom turns you on your back, covering you fully, his weight carried by his bent arm next your head as the other hooks one of your useless legs on his shoulder, before breaching you slowly, careful of his size and of the desire burning in his loins from the second he's first seen you.

"Good girl." He drawls, his accent thick in your ear. "Such a good girl."

Like a mantra he says as he pushes inside of you, deeper and deeper, faster with every pass, until he bottoms out and you arch under him, your eyes crossing with a whine, your hand seeking Billy, as if he's your tether and he comes to you, to kiss you again as Tom grabs your hips to make sure he's still deep inside of you when he rears back, before pounding inside of you with abandon, your muscles so loose and wet it's easy for him to ravage you, your cunt the perfect fist around his cock, your body arching under him without your control, simply craving all the pleasure he's willing to give you, until you come with a shriek.

With a curse Tom turns you on your front and enters you again, his hands on your breasts as he supports you against his chest, his hips pistoning against you, your juices leaking obscenely down your tights. Billy's soft lips land on your abused clit to suck desperately, hungry for you again and you cry and beg, broken by your men, your body trembles, your hips try to squirm away from the dual onslaught of pleasure. But you have nowhere to go, you're trapped as pressure builds and builds inside of you and you come all over Billy's face and Tom's cock, your mind blank, body lax in their arms.

Your mind floats as they hug you tight, their lips kissing you everywhere they can and tether you back to shore, to them, to Billy's desperately hard cock nestled between the lips of your overused cunt. Tom's seed is still flowing out of your hole, marking your thighs and Billy's erection, not that any of you care, your body has never been so ready for Billy, the tiredness of your muscles notwithstanding.

"Please." You moan against him. "I love you." He murmurs against your lips, his cheeks aflame.

Billy is gentle when he enters you, slow pushes and pulls, mindful of how sore you are but he is relentless, his hips grinding against your clit, his lips around one pert nipple and he moans at the taste of your skin. You call his name and Tom's, ready to be the vessel of his pleasure, already drunk on yours that you don't expect Billy to cradle your tired body against himself, before he kneels on the bed, letting you sit on his erection, now so deep inside of you that you are sure you're not going to be able to walk for a week. Tom helps Billy wound your legs around his hips, so that he can rock inside of you with his face against your breasts and God help you, you can feel the pleasure spiraling again, and it's not only Tom's fingers making slow, circular motions on your clit, it's the closeness, it's the way Billy kisses your drenched skin as his cock massages your G spot continuously, riding the tendrils of the past orgasms still singing in your nerves.

"I can't, Billy...".

He needs to come, you can see in the way his face scrunches as he fights against the pleasure; you can't orgasm anymore, your body isn't capable to go again, but you don't care, as long as you can give him the pleasure he deserves.

"One last time, please." He begs, his face so earnest and open you can feel tears at the corners of your eyes. "Be good." The drawl of Tom's accent makes you shiver. "You have another one in you, for Billy." "No, no, Tom please." You whine, weak and lost. "No more." "Shh, I know you can." Tom growls, hungry for you. "I can't if you don't come with me, please." Billy begs with a desperate voice.

You make an animalistic sound at the back of your throat when Billy's hips rock faster and Tom's fingers push tighter on your abused clit; Billy's fingers grab your skin to push you closer to him as his cockhead bullies your G spot relentlessly and Tom's fingers slip on the squelching mess that's your center. With inarticulate sounds your body tries to escape their hold and they just keep you there, squashed between them, Billy's lips on your breasts leave marks he'll later kiss, Tom's teeth worry your neck as he pinches your clit cruelly, deaf to your whines of pleasurable pain, to how broken you sound when pleasure ebbs and ebbs and you crash in their hold, Billy following you with a long moan.

Billy's tears of pleasure mingle with yours as you three fall on the destroyed sheets; your skin almost hurt where it touches them, but you don't care, because you need this, need them as they do you.

This, this is the answer to the questions plaguing you in Scotland: simply loving one another, building something together instead of running away, giving you three a fighting chance, despite how uncommon their idea had been. And despite the voice in your head: it was wrong back when you started being a journalist and it is wrong now that your body is cradled by theirs. This is worth fighting for and God have mercy on whomever will ever try to separate you three.

[baldurs-gape]

Something nice I did for myself? Went to a cat cafe after work and cuddled with them for an hour. There was one named Vinny that just crawled into my lap and wouldn’t leave, asked the staff and he will be available for adoption this fall….so I’m thinking about it.

That is so wonderful! Nonnie, if I could I would give you a gold star for doing something nice for yourself. And Vinny! Firstly, an excellent name for a cat and secondly, I really hope things work out for you both when it's time for him to be adopted. Cats have a knack for choosing their people and knowing who they'll be happiest with. It seems Vinny may have chosen you!

Scars

Truth be told, Astarion wasn't all that clued up on the intricacies of magic and healing potions. Over time he'd picked up dribs and drabs from his victims as they talked about scars they had. The richer the target, the less likely they were to have even the odd pockmark or childhood shenanigans.

Lying naked next to Gale, Astarion couldn't help but trace patterns through the smattering of chest hair. The sensation against his fingertips was soothing but so were the little divots he could feel in the warm skin. Propping his head up, he leaned in to get a better look.

"Did you explode a crystal ball and get caught in the rain of shards?"

Huffing in amusement, Gale reached up to feel the old scars. "Not quite. My mother told me not to play with fire mephits and I didn't listen. Was too scared to show her the damage the sparks did until it was too late." His hand clasped over Astarion's. "Not that it was severe enough for a healing potion or to go see someone. Wouldn't have wasted money on something so frivolous."

"It adds a rugged charm to your looks," Astarion purred and cuddled in.

It wasn't the only scarring Gale's body bore. Aside from the obvious of the orb there were others dotted around. Astarion found himself eager to hear the stories behind them. Taking Gale's hand, be brought it to his lips to kiss his palm. And maybe to trace the circular scar on the skin between thumb and index finger.

"You're curious tonight." Only an indulgent smile accompanied those words and Astarion hummed in quiet agreement. He always wanted to know more, knowledge about people was power but this was one of the few instances where he wanted to know for reasons other than his own safety and protection.

Gale craned his head a little better see Astarion as he spoke, "You're not going to believe this one. Tara bit me."

"She bit you?!"

"Indeed she did. Rightfully so, I was being an insufferable fool." Pulling his hand back, Gale smiled as he looked at his hand. "I chose to let it heal naturally as it were, a reminder that I don't actually always know everything best."

"Wait, you're actually aware of that?"

Hand playfully mussing up Astarion's hair, Gale bit out a giggle "arse" in response. Outrage had Astarion rolling on top of him, doing his best to flatten him into a pancake. It wasn't something he would ever succeed at but that had never stopped him from trying before.

"I've never met anyone who willingly let a wound heal with time. Well, there was the odd buffoon who thought it made them look more hard or something equally asinine. But usually scars meant hardship or lack of resources."

Arms wrapping around Astarion to hold him close, Gale took a moment to breathe and find his words. And relish in having Astarion's weight on him.

"Money was tight for us," he began. "After my father left it got very difficult. I was home from Blackstaff once when my mother needed some help with getting something down from the attic without magic. I think she just wanted me to give her a few minutes of peace and quiet." The aside was met with a snort. "Anyway, long story short, I was young, foolish and overly confident. What should have been a careful trip down the ladder turned into a very very quick one. But it's not a method I'd recommend. My foot got caught between rungs. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Wriggling around, Gale pulled a leg upand pointed to a gnarly scar on his calf. It wasn't one Astarion had really noticed before, usually too preoccupied with the rest of a naked Gale. He reached to touch it, familiarising himself with the feel of it.

"That's where the bone stuck out. Mother had half a bottle of healing potion left which was enough to get the bone set. Unfortunately the rest was left to nature, we couldn't afford a healer or more potions. By the time I was back at Blackstaff it was pretty much healed up. So I have that."

It wasn't exactly elegant as Astarion wormed around to actually kiss the scar. He ended up sitting atop Gale and looking down at him with a fierce expression that refused to soften. "I like it. It makes you different. I only have two scars, as you know." A hand drifted to his neck. "And my nature means I won't realistically be accruing anymore. Not unless someone takes an enchanted blade to me again like Cazador did and carves into me repeatedly."

"Over my dead body."

"I'd rather that didn't happen. But hush. What I'm trying to say is that I quite like it. Quite like you. As you are."

"Yeah?" Gale grinned lopsidedly up at him.

"Yes."

"Good. Beacuse I quite like you too."

[seijorhi]

Hey Rhi! Hope you’ve been well!

I recently binged through all your Tokyo Rev fics and it made me think of something. I really love the concept of Tailspin with Chifuyu being the one to remember the past timeline. The simultaneous regret of how they treated reader being balanced with this uncontrollable desire to be with her again was so great and really fascinating to me.

It made me think, what do you think Mikey would do in a post-bonten/sink to the depths timeline where those events never happened, but he’s still able to remember them in the new timeline? On one hand, he was in love with reader, but how she was treated by him and bonten was a complete nightmare for her. I guess it depends on which timeline, but do you think that would make him hesitate from trying to find reader in this new timeline (to prevent her from being dragged into his mess of a life) or would he not be able to resist finding her anyway?

hi nonnie first of all ily <33

so if chifuyu's fucked up about it, mikey.... oof. man's got trauma big time.

doesn't help matters that when he was on the brink of complete self destruction the reader became his emotional support pussy person.

on the one hand, of course she's better off far, far away from him and sanzu and kakucho – all of them. it was an obsession, fucked up and depraved and sickening and damn it all to hell if does he wish he could feel that disgust all the time.

it'd be easier that way, to focus the hate inwards and pretend that's all it was. that there aren't nights he doesn't like awake and fucking miss her like a part of him's been ripped away. that his cock doesn't stir at the filthy dreams – memories – that won't leave his head.

on the really bad days, it's like an ache. an itch. incessant. he misses her.

he'd taint her all over again.

so he should leave her alone. stay as far away as humanly possible.

there's a problem, though. two, if he's being completely honest with himself. the first is that along with their whole sordid relationship, he remembers how the reader managed to end up in bonten's clutches in the first place. bonten doesn't exist anymore, obviously, but just because he and his friends aren't running around as gangsters anymore doesn't mean bad men, bad luck and bad circumstance have ceased to exist.

her brother's probably still a bottom feeding piece of shit with a gambling problem. there's every chance he's gonna do something just as stupid this time, and she'll inevitably be the one to pay for it. glass stones and houses and all that bullshit, he doesn't like it. no one's allowed to touch her. no one but him.

the other problem, the one he's less eager to admit to himself, is that he wasn't the only one fucked up over her. the haitani's might not look twice (he thinks. hopes, maybe), and who knows with sanzu, but kakucho? koko? they might not remember any of it, but if they walked past her in the street, bumped into her at a bar, would they feel that pull in their gut? would it spark something?

mikey hates the thought of her in danger, being mistreated – by her brother or by anyone else, but there's a sick, possessive part of him that hates the thought of any of them taking her too.

she was his first.

but even if he shoved that all aside, buried his head in the sand and pretended he wasn't slowly being driven out of his mind by her, the universe is a funny thing. one way or another, it'll work its magic and shove her right back into his path.

some things are just... fated.

[melodygatesauthor]

Wouldn’t it be cute if one of the moon boys finds someone in a library, reading about different mythologies but they are currently reading about Egyptology? Like this person can have a flowing academia vibe. They sit across from her, and slowly start a conversation? Or she slowly starts a conversation with them?

More Beautiful than Hathor

Jake Lockley X f!Reader

Hi Nonnie, I realized after writing that this isn't quite what you mentioned but I hope you liked it anyway. I thought it came out cute!

Tag/Warnings: SFW, Jake is a cab driver, Jake gets nervous, asking out, steven is there too a little, fluff, cute.

Word Count: 841

Jake walked up the steps of the library after finishing his cab shift. Steven had asked him to return a book for him after he was done with work. What Jake wasn’t expecting was to see someone so radiant sitting all alone with her nose in a book about Egyptology. Jake’s mind sparked alive with a voice, the little British man who had a knack for forgetting to return his own library books, and who had a thing for girls that liked Egyptian mythology.

Jake, let me out. He said from the headspace.

Ignoring the other alter, Jake walked up to the librarian and handed him the book scheduled for return.

Jake, I know you can hear me perfectly. Let me out, I want to talk to her. She’s pretty, and we already have something in common.

Jake walked over to where you were sitting and put a hand in his coat pocket. You looked up over your book, peering at him skeptically.

“Hola hermosa.” He said in the most sly tone he could muster.

You scowled. You didn’t come to the library to get hit on. In fact, it was one of the few places that you could go and almost guarantee that you weren’t going to have some loser come up to you and try to smooth talk his way into your pants. With a heavy groan you dropped the book on the table.

“Seriously?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He screwed up, that much was obvious. This was out of his comfort zone. He was used to girls flirting back. He felt his cheeks getting hot, and he was scrambling around in his head for anything to say. For once, he was turning to Steven for advice on girls.

Alright, well, it’s too late for me to front now, yeah? She’s going to think we’re even more mental if we switch places mid conversation so…try commenting on her book. Yeah, that should work.

“I like your book.” Jake said in an almost robotic tone.

No, Jake…I know you know how to talk to women, I’m the one who gets anxious. Just breathe, say something smart about like Egypt or something.

“So…you like pyramids?”

“I’m trying to do some research, not that it’s any of your business. This isn’t a club, I didn’t come here to pick up idiots. So if you don’t mind…” You kept your eyes on his, daring him to say anything else absurd.

Jake gulped harshly.

Oh no, Jake you really messed it up. Oh! Tell her she looks more beautiful than Hathor! That’s bound to work!

“Look, I just saw that you were into Egyptology, and I thought…wow, you’re even more beautiful than Hathor herself.”

Jake had never been so off his game. Nothing had ever thrown him off the way you did in that moment, being so bold and not giving in to his advances. A small beep went off on your wrist. You pulled your watch up to your face and groaned.

“Shit.” You said, standing up and grabbing your bags. “Thanks, I’m gonna be late.” You started for the door.

Oh man, you really messed that one up, better let me take over next time.

Jake felt the pit in his stomach that came with rejection. He wasn’t used to such a feeling, and he wasn’t used to girls pushing back against his advances. You were outside on your phone when Jake made his way through the glass doors. You were upset and yelling at whoever was on the other end.

“What do you mean it’s going to take you ten minutes to get here? I need someone here asap, please!” You clicked off your phone and then turned to Jake. “For fuck’s-can you please just leave me alone?”

“I was just going to offer you a ride.” He put up his hands in surrender. “I’m a cab driver, I can take you wherever you need to go.”

You furrowed your brow at him in frustration. You didn’t have much choice, or you weren’t going to make it to your meeting.

“Fine, but no shitty pick up lines on the way.” You insisted, getting into the back of his cab.

Alright Jake, you’ve got this, just don’t say anything stupid alright?

Jake got you to your destination in one piece, and quickly at that. He needed to think of one more thing he could say to turn this around, and get you to go on a date with him. The thought crossed his mind, and he thought for sure it would work, and if nothing, it would at least get a laugh out of you.

No, bad idea don-

“Maybe next time I’ll let you take me for a ride, hermosa.”

Jake spent the drive home rubbing his stinging cheek and listening to Steven rant in the background about how dumb he was for saying something so ridiculous. It was alright though, he knew where to find you, and he knew he’d try again when the opportunity arose.

Celebration Masterlist

[lady-rose-moon]

I’d love to request a story where Loki and yn meet for the first time and somehow she sparks his interest what never really happened before ☺️

Library meet cute || Loki x Reader || Requests open ||

A/N: I may have taken creative liberties here but I hope you still like it, nonny! <3

Warnings: hate of species!

Ever since Loki began to serve his sentence on Midgard alongside those he’d harmed during his attack, he’d come to appreciate one place in all of New York above all else. The library. Sure, it was open to the public and people always bustled in and out, discussing loudly about the books they’d read and the ones they needed to return but it was such a familiarity to Loki that he found himself smiling despite the fact and enjoying the cool breeze that wafted from the air conditioners on the ceilings.

Loki had begun his visits after the library was reopened to the public three months after his attack. Odin hadn’t hesitated to give him the punishment of a lifetime and force him to live alongside the people he’d made his enemies. His magic was restricted and he wasn’t allowed to use it in public lest he terrify all the people he had to live with.

The God of Mischief adored these small moments he had to himself where he was allowed to just browse literature and forget that everybody here feared him. His fingertips grazed the spines of countless books as he looked at the fiction section, trying to find a suitable novel to get stuck into when his fingers brushed against someone elses.

Alarmed, Loki withdrew his fingers and turned to his side where he saw a beautiful woman staring at him. Loki blinked for a few seconds before regaining his composure and dropping into a respectful bow. “I apologise, my lady,” he began with complete sincerity, looking up at the woman unsurely, “I must have zoned out and not noticed.”

“It’s alright,” she responded with a warm smile, looking back to the shelf and picking a book before turning to Loki again and holding it out to him, “this is The Great Gatsby, you sound like the type to enjoy such a novel.”

“Fitzgerald’s work?” Loki murmured mostly to himself as he took the book from the woman’s fingers and looked down at the classical hardcover, “have you read it?”

“Oh, once or twice,” she shrugged with an easy smile, tilting her head as she looked up at him, “wasn’t really my style but you seem like the one to like it more. I’m Y/N, by the way. Thought we’d possibly like to know each other’s names.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” Loki asked with a raised eyebrow, watching as the woman looked him up and down before shrugging and offering a polite smile. “I am Loki of Asgard,” he continued with a confused tone in his voice, “I attacked your planet a year ago and now I spend my exile here alone.”

Realisation seemingly spread across her face and she clicked her fingers, “right! Laufeyson! You’re living with the Avengers, right? I’m not from New York, just visiting but I’ve heard that a criminal is now living under the Avengers care!”

“I’m not in their care,” Loki sneered before seeing the surprise in her eyes and quickly backing down and whispering, “forgive me, I did not mean to startle you thus. It is unbecoming of the Prince of Asgard.”

Loki studied the woman in front of him and that’s when he sensed the slight whiff of magic coming from her form and he tilted his head slightly. “Do you have magic?” he asked very abruptly, watching as your eyes widened and you looked around to see if you were being listened to.

Once you were sure that there were no eavesdroppers, you glared up at Loki. “I concede,” you whispered with a frown, “I am Y/N Y/L/N, I am the daughter of one of the lords of Jötunheim. I’m not supposed to be on Midgard but I was so curious.”

Surprise washed over Loki’s face as he stared down at the woman before him. She was a Jötun?! He had thought he’d destroyed Jötunheim in his blind rage three years ago but seeing a living Jötun here was evidence that he had obviously failed to destroy the planet of monsters like himself. 

Even though he knew of this woman’s true nature, he could not stop himself from thinking about how beautiful she looked and how he felt no disgust towards her as he eternally felt towards himself. To him, she was no different than any other woman he’d met here on Midgard, her magic was incredibly strong to allow her to blend into American society so easily. 

“Loki?” her sweet voice echoed in his brain as she stared up at him and he saw the fear in her eyes, “you said you were of Asgard. Are you going to kill me like other Asgardians?”

“No!” Loki found himself saying in a hurry, surprising himself and Y/N by how quickly he’d replied, “I could never kill a beauty such as you.”

Loki didn’t know what was happening to himself! Normally when he thought of the blue monsters he’d been taught to hate, he felt disgust and judgement towards his race and occasionally thought about murdering every last one even if he had no magic. It would make Odin proud, at least, to have the enemies destroyed. But when he looked down at this woman, he didn’t feel that way at all. In fact, his heart was speeding up and every muscle in his body wanted him to reach out and embrace her, reassure her that everything is alright and that he would never harm her and it scared him. It scared him how quickly he was falling for this woman, more than he’d fallen into the thrall of any Aesir maiden. 

Perhaps it was the monster in himself, perhaps it was in his blood to react thus towards a female Jötun. Perhaps this had always been how he felt deep inside and now he was only just realising that. 

“Well… how about we leave this place?” Y/N suggested, grabbing Loki’s attention as quickly as any other time she’d spoken. Her voice sounded like honey, her smile comforted him more than he’d ever been comforted in his life by his brother and mother. This fragile heart he kept behind so many concrete walls were already starting to crack oh too quickly for his taste.  

Loki nodded as he followed you out of the library after checking out The Great Gatsby. Loki guided you to a coffee shop that he had come to love that was a good twenty minutes walk away from the library. All the way, Loki felt this pull towards you that he’d never felt before, a tug on his heart that was telling him that you were destined to be his and only his. 

It seemed, deep in the Jötun side of him, he knew he’d found his mate. His Aesir side just wouldn’t know for a while yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Main tags:

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