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artemismoorea03 · 11 months ago

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DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #might continue this #maybe not #we'll see

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imaginaryf1shots · 5 months ago

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Winner | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 2.3K

Dad!Lewis x Wife!Reader

Summery: It’s lewis’s win after 945 days of not winning, and it’s also your daughter’s first race.

Warning: None

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

The home you share with Lewis in England is a sanctuary for the two of you. it's a house filled with warmth and comfort. It's a place filled with laughter and good memories.

Deciding to make this house your main one almost 4 years ago was an easy decision for the both of you. Lewis was away racing most of the year, and since you've gotten pregnant, this was the best option, his family is there, and they've been helping you whenever Lewis is away. During his brakes, you all go back to Monaco, the home you shared with Lewis when you were dating to when you got married and until your fourth month of pregnancy. For him, the move was a return to the familiar embrace of family and the land that had shaped him. Lewis’s family had welcomed you with open arms, their support a constant source of strength.

Their love for your daughter knew no bounds. She was the light of everyone’s lives. Her bright eyes and infectious giggle, a beacon of joy.

One thing is that Lola hasn't seen her dad race in real life. The sound of the engines, the rush of the crowd, those were experiences she only saw on the TV or stories told by the adults around her.

You and Lewis talked about bringing her to a race multiple times, but you always felt like she was too young, that it would be too much for her. But seeing other drivers bring their children made Lewis want to bring her more. And as the British Grand Prix approached, it felt like it was finally time, Lewis was buzzing, Mercedes won last week. Yes, it was because Max and Lando crashed, but they still won. And the feeling he had coming into the week was great. He loves Silverstone, and he's won 8 times before. And the thought of having you and Lola there with the rest of his family was filling him up with anticipation.

That's why when Lola got a bit sick and was under the weather, he felt deflated. Was it a bad omen, will this week go wrong and not like he expected. His thoughts ran wild. Throughout media day and Friday, you've been sending him pictures of the two of you watching him. His mum was with you, but she will be going on race day. Unbeknownst to Lewis, Lola was better, so much better, but you were waiting to see if she'll stay okay or maybe get sick again. The colour returned to her cheeks, and she became active once again.

On quali day, it was bright and early, when you felt Lewis get out of bed, but took you a few minutes to will yourself to get out of bed and follow him. You walked in the direction of your daughter's room. The door was open, and the night light was still on, you watched from the door way as Lewis stood by her bed, he's been coming home late at night when Lola was already in bed.

You walked in and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him from the back, feeling his skin under your arms. Lewis leaned slightly into you. You peppered his shoulder with kisses.

“I can't wait for the summer break, I feel like I haven't been spending enough time with her.” Lewis whispers, you hum and look at her from over his shoulder.

“Soon she'll be able to travel with you to races.” You whisper back. “She's super excited about that.”

“I want to start winning again, I want her to be proud of me.” Lewis told you he sounded so vournable in that moment.

“She's already so proud of you, winning or not.” You reasure him. “She goes around saying my daddy is a champion, he won 7 times, and Nicolas taught her to say that you're the goat.”

“Did he?” Lewis smiled.

“Yeah, don't think she knows what it really means, but it has her giggling every time.” You kiss his neck and pull him slightly. You leave her sleeping.

You watch him get ready from the bed, keeping him company, it pains you not being able to be there for him on his home race weekend.

“I can hear you thinking.” Lewis says, and you smile.

“I can't help it, I want to be there for you today and tomorrow.” You pout, and Lewis smiles he walks to the side of the bed you're sitting on before he leans over and presses a few kisses to your lips.

“We can't help it, Lola comes first.” Lewis says and finishes getting ready.

“I know.”

Watching quali with Lola had so many highs and lows for you. For a second, you thought Lewis would qualify first. But alas, it was 1-2 for Mercedes.

Lewis left the track at 10 that day and was home after both you and Lola fell asleep. You slept on the sofa waiting for him. Lewis smiles seeing you on the sofa, the TV on low volume. He kisses your forehead and picks you up. You stir up and wrap your arms around him.

“I'm so proud of you, Lewis.” You mumble, and he kisses your foreheads once more. He puts you in bed before he joins you, and you gravitate towards him, you cuddle.

Kissing Lewis goodbye the next day, you start getting ready, Carmen, his mum helps Lola get ready while you get ready. You take Lola's bag filled with snacks, toys, and everything she might need or want for the day, also her medicine in case she needs it.

“Look at you so cute.” You tell Lola, seeing her in a mini race suit that is identical to Lewis’, complete with race shoes as well, and a Mercedes cap to boot.

“He'll be so happy.” Carmen tells you, and you agree. She gives you a hug, and the three of you leave. You already agreed with his team to sneak you in and not tell him.

Avoiding fans was the hardest thing, but somehow, you managed to do it. Lewis was in a meeting most of the day. This race was crucial, and a lot of planning went into it.

There was a camera following you and Lola through the Mercedes motorhome, documenting your daughter's first race. She looked around in wander.

“Look who we have here.” Toto said, smiling, seeing your daughter walking in front of you. She smiles up at the tall man, her neck bending to see his face. Toto picks her up.

“Hi, Toto Daddy doesn't know I'm here.” She says and shush him with her finger to her lips.

“Don't worry, I won't tell him.” Toto whispers and smiles. She talks with Toto for a bit before he has to go.

The plan was for one of the team to get a camera into the room Lewis was in, and somehow they did. Lola was told to go knock on the door and walk in.

She looked at you as she walked to the room. You gave her a nod and an encouraging smile. Her small hand knocks on the door, barely making a noise.

Lewis looks up at the door, he thought for a second that he heard a knock or something, it was so light, before the door is pushed open, and he looks down.

“Oh my god.” He whispers. Before he gets up from his chair and, in a few big steps, scoops her up in her arms. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

“It's a surprise, Daddy.” Lola giggles, happy that she managed to surprise her dad.

“She's been feeling much better.” You tell him from the doorway, behind the man filming the father daughter due. Seeing them together here in Mercedes brought tears to your eyes, but you managed not to let them slip. Lewis holds his hand out to you, and you slip in the room and into your husband's arms. He hugs the two of you close, and you enjoy the moment not caring about the people around you.

Lewis is fussy you realised, he's making sure that you're both comfortable in the garage, that Lola's headphones were the right size and that someone will be next to you during the race incase you needed help with anything.

And so for the next hour, the garage became your little haven. Lewis was making sure your daughter was comfortable, adjusting her headphones, and pointing out various parts of the car to her with the patient enthusiasm of a father eager to share his world. She sat perched on his lap, wide-eyed and fascinated by everything around her, her tiny fingers tracing the lines of his racing suit as if trying to memorise every detail. She was so happy when he sat in the car and placed her on his lap, steering wheel and everything.

As the time for the race drew nearer, the atmosphere in the garage grew increasingly tense. Mechanics made their final checks, the car gleamed under the bright lights, and the air was thick with anticipation. Lewis knelt down beside your daughter, his face serious now as he explained that he had to go and get ready. She listened intently, nodding solemnly, and then wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“Go win, Daddy,” she said, her voice full of quiet determination.

With one last kiss for each of you, Lewis stood up, took a deep breath, and headed towards his car. You watched him go, your heart swelling with pride and love.

As the engines roared to life and the cars began to line up on the grid, you held your daughter close, her eyes fixed on the track, her face alight with the same eager anticipation that filled the air. Today is a day you would cherish forever, no matter what the outcome of the race might be.

The start of the race looked good, with Lewis and George keeping the rest of the grid behind them. You grew anxious when the Mclarens over took them after Lewis was leading.

Lap 33 George had to retire his car, and it left you worried for Lewis’ car. Mclaren was leading, but the strategy from Mercedes and Lewis’ experience played a good part for him to take the lead and stay ahead of Lando. Lola sat wide-eyed and mesmerised by the spectacle unfolding before her. Lewis’s car was a blur as it streaked past the garage. You could see the intensity in his movements from the onboard, every turn, and manoeuvre executed with the precision and grace of a seasoned champion. A mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Your daughter clapped her hands in delight every time she spotted her father’s car, her infectious excitement breaking your own tension and bringing a smile to your face.

”There he is, Mummy! Look! Daddy’s winning!” She exclaimed, her voice enthusiastic, filled with pure love as she watched her daddy do what he he loved and was passionate about.

Max came out of nowhere and overtook Lando easily. Your heart dropped as the last 5 laps went on, Max is catching Lewis, your heart beating hard in your chest. The anticipation was killing you. Then, as the race entered its final lap, a hush fell over the garage, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch. Lewis was leading, and Max was too far to try and overtake.

Lola leaned forward, her eyes wide with awe as she watched the drama unfold. “Is Daddy going to win, Mummy?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

You squeezed her hand, your own emotions a blend of hope and fear. “He will.” You replied, your voice catching in your throat as you watched the final lap play out before you.

The entire grange was on its feet, a chorus of cheers and applause erupting around you as he passed the chequered flag. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling with pride and joy as you watched him cross the finish line, victorious and triumphant.

The garage exploded into a frenzy of celebration, the noise and excitement almost overwhelming in its intensity.

“Daddy won! Daddy won!” she squealed, her face alight with pure, unadulterated joy.

With Carmen, you made your way to parc ferme, where Lewis parked, Lola in your arms. Your husband has already gotten out of the car and hugged his team and father. Carmen managed to get to him before the two of you, and he fell in her shoulder. He’s crying. Hearing him on the team radio crying made you fight your own tears. You walked around the barrier with Lola still in your arms, Lando was being interviewed by Jensen, and that gave you the time to reach Lewis.

He let go of his mother, and his eyes fell on you and Lola in your arms. Meeting his eyes, the tears you tried to keep at bay fell freely. The moment you reached him, he enveloped you both in a fierce, tearful embrace. You hid your face in his neck as you clutched his race suit around his back, Lola wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We did it, we did it.” He whispered in your ear, his voice cracking as he held you both close.

”Daddy don’t cry.” Lola said patting his back, trying to comfort him like he always comforts her, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, Lewis pulls back and kisses her cheek, before he turns to you and presses a kiss to your lips.

”I love you so much.” You whisper against his lips, a teary smile on your face.

”I love you too.” Lewis tells you the emotions between you thick and overwhelming.

”I love you, Daddy.” Lola said, and Lewis turned to take her in his arms, kissing all over her face.

”I love you too, sweetheart.”

In that moment, amidst the roar of the crowd and the flash of the cameras, nothing else mattered. You were together, and Lewis has proved to everyone that said he’s washed and that it’s over for him wrong. And he did it all on his daughter’s first race. His greatest accomplishment and his lucky charm.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

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seoulmatez · 7 months ago

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— 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader ﾉ 957 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ reader works at a cafe ﾉ suo is a flirty fella~

my first time writing for the fandom! if u don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all :3

the bell above the door rings, but you don’t stop wiping down the table or turn around to greet your customer. without seeing him, without hearing him, you already know who it is. no one else would feel so comfortable walking in so near to closing time.

“ah~ i’m not too late, am i?” suo’s voice rings through the air of the cafe, calm and curious. you can hear the soft smile in it.

when you turn around, he’s already made himself comfortable at his regular spot—a stool off the end of the counter where you take orders. the white changshan he dons is pristine and it makes the yellow of his hanging earrings seem even brighter than usual. his head is tilted to the side as he waits for a response or a greeting,

your eyes flit up to the clock on the wall. “seven minutes later and the door would have been locked.”

“lucky me!” he closes his visible eye and happily waves his hands. it doesn’t seem as though he minds being one of the customers you would usually complain to him about. maybe it’s because he knows you’d make an exception for him—not that you’ve ever told him so, though, he’s claimed on multiple occasions that you’re easy for him to read. perhaps he’s caught on to your thinly veiled fondness of him.

“what kept you?” you ask, lifting up the countertop to step behind it. you toss the rag you had just been using into the sink before turning on the water to wash your hands. your skin prickles as you do so and you know it’s because the man’s auburn gaze is glued to your back. “you’re usually in here a little earlier.”

“something held me up,” he tells you as you dry your hands. you raise your eyebrows in an attempt to prod him for more information. but you’re only met with a smile and the vague addition of, “nothing important.”

you’ve got an idea of what he was up to but, just like suo, you choose not to say it. his unwillingness to share used to come across as secretive but when you began to learn more about him through snippets of the conversations of your regulars, you gained a better understanding of his avoidance of certain topics. that privacy he so often exercises is really a shield to protect you from the not-so-pretty parts of his world.

maybe he truly is the gentleman seemingly everyone regards him as.

you clear your throat in hopes of changing the subject. “anything you’re craving today?”

he hums in thought, tapping his chin as though he’s deeply considering all of his options. you have to bite back a smile because, other than the fact that your selection is incredibly limited due to the time, you and he both know he already has an answer in mind. as if he had just settled on it, suo meets your eye. “have any tea cakes left?”

“they sold out this morning.”

he lets out an exaggerated, disappointed sigh before poking his bottom lip out in a pout. “how unfortunate.”

his theatrical show is enough to make you roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop you from turning around to grab the box you had set aside once you finished baking this morning. in addition to being suo’s favorite, the tea cakes he requested are a best seller at the bakery. you had a feeling they’d be gone before he got the chance to get some for himself. so, you thought ahead and separated a few from the batch just for him.

you carefully slide the box in front of him. “i saved some for you.”

“ i really am lucky.” he smiles, teeth and all. you’ve always thought that it’s a good thing he’s so happy—otherwise, you wouldn’t get to see his smile as often as you do. now that you’ve seen it, you can’t imagine going a day without the sight. soon enough, his teeth are hidden behind lips that curl up at the corners. “you must be an angel put on earth just for me.”

“relax,” you breathe out a nervous laugh, “i wouldn’t go that far.”

his honeyed words leave you feeling a little embarrassed. all you did was set some treats aside for him… so why are the tips of your ears growing warm and your fingers restlessly fiddling with the hem of your apron?

there’s a hint of humor—entertainment, actually—in suo’s voice when he asks, “how much do i owe you?”

you shake your head. “don’t worry about it. it’s on the house.”

“wow, if you’re any nicer to me, i might start thinking you have a crush or something.”

“what?!” you don’t mean to raise your voice but the accusation isn’t something you can glide past so easily. where on earth did he get that idea? does saving a regular one of their favorites equate to having feelings for them all of a sudden? despite the answer, you rush to explain away the misunderstanding. “i don’t! i-i just—it was a slow night so i already counted the register.”

suo nods along to your excuse, but you don’t miss the way his lips quiver as though he’s one second away from bursting out in laughter. it puts a frown on your face. “i’m serious!”

“no, no,” he waves his hands in surrender but his grin doesn’t budge, “i believe you. it’s just that you’re so adamant.”

“because i don’t like you,” you tell him. “not like that.”

he nods again but it’s accompanied by a sigh this time. “well, that’s too bad. if someone as cute as you had a crush on me, i’d be the luckiest guy in the world.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated if u enjoyed <3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: wind breaker #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #wind breaker x reader #suo fluff #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker (satoru nii)

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hayleythesugarbowl · 7 months ago

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you should do a spencer agnew x reader but reader is the new smosh games PA and she has a slow burn / flirty relationship with spencer :)))

Cool Shoes || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist • part 2 ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you join smosh as the newest addition to the games crew, you are immediately attracted to spencer. but will your little crush turn into something more?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mild language

a/n: thank you so much for this request ml!! i love writing for spencer sm and honestly i kinda fell in love w him a little bit while writing this so ty 🤭 this isn’t superrr slow burny (i got to excited and eager lol oops) but there’s plenty of flirting and i hope you enjoy this!! 🎀

edit!! i have a part two now, so if you enjoy this fic go check that out 💋

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And this concludes your official tour of Smosh,” Shayne said, throwing his arms wide. “Any questions?”

“Yes,” you answered, “Is that my ring?”

“(Y/n),” Shayne whined as he slipped the ring that was definitely yours into his pocket quickly, “That’s what you got out of my tour?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry Oh Wise Guide,” you teased, “You know I wouldn’t be here without you. Or if I was, I’d be really lost.”

You had just officially begun your job at Smosh that morning. Shayne had immediately started showing you around and you really were grateful.

You’d known Shayne for years and he was the one that suggested you try and get a job with Smosh when you’d moved to LA a few months ago.

You’d gotten a job as the Smosh Games PA and you couldn’t wait to get started. You already knew a lot of the people who worked there—either because you’d met them through Shayne outside of Smosh or from the multiple times you’d visited the studio before you’d applied for the job.

Plus, this was the first job you’d had where you actually felt like you’d be doing something you enjoyed.

“Who’s lost?” You heard a voice from behind you and you spun around quickly.

“Oh, (Y/n), this is Spencer, the director of our games channel,” Shayne introduced you to the man who had spoke. “Spencer, this is (Y/n), the new games PA.”

You knew you should’ve said something to him along the lines of ‘hi, nice to meet you. i’m (y/n). i look forward to working with you’ but all that came out was “Cool shoes.”

You didn't know why that was what your mind had landed on—he was wearing basic gray sneakers—but you were so caught off guard by how attractive he was that you’d kinda choked.

Because damn. He had the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen on a person before.

Spencer smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re just trying to kiss ass already or you’ve got really bad taste in shoes because these babies are mid at best.”

You smiled, looking down at your own shoes. “Definitely the second option—these are someone’s grandma’s shoes. Seriously, I scavenged them from my Nanna’s closet.”

This got you a laugh from Spencer and you continued, “Unless I should be kissing ass?”

“Nah,” Spencer waved the thought away, “most of your job’s just gonna consist of bringing me Mountain Dew. So unless you can screw that up…”

“He’s not serious, is he?” You turned around to ask Shayne. “Because you said this wasn’t gonna be like my last job.”

“You slung Mountain Dew at your last job?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head. “Just had a lousy boss who took the assistant part of my job a little too far. But I appreciate your concern for my employment history,” you teased.

You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Spencer. Usually you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to joke around with someone you just met—let alone your new boss. Your new boss who you had almost undressed with your eyes upon first sight.

“Settle down, I was just gonna ask if you had any cans left over,” Spencer winked.

“Spencer’s kind of addicted to Mountain Dew Kickstart,” Shayne piped in. “And by kind of—”

“He means I’ve already had four today,” Spencer finished.

You made a face, “It’s 9:00am.”

“Ooh,” Spencer winced dramatically, “Sorry, but I don’t think our values align. Go ahead and bring in the next one, Shayne. (Y/n), it was nice meeting you—good luck with the shoes thing.”

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “You already have another person lined up for my job?”

Spencer leaned towards you and you felt your pulse pick up ever-so-slightly. “Shayne doesn’t know it yet, but it’s actually just him,” he whispered loudly.

“Well then I may have to quit, just to see how this goes,” you said, turning to Shayne who crossed his arms.

“Not when I was just starting to like you,” Spencer pouted and you felt your cheeks warm.

“I was just starting to think you’re not so bad yourself,” you shot back.

“Woah, I just meant ‘cause you have a secret stash of Mountain Dew.”

“And I meant because you have cool shoes,” you teased.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Spencer smiled, “I expect to see you here by 5:00am sharp tomorrow morning.”

“Seriously?” Your job description hadn’t said anything about getting to work when it was still dark out!

Spencer shrugged. “I guess I can give you a few more hours. Y’know, so you can shop for some decent footwear beforehand. See ya later, grandma shoes.”

He began to walk backwards and you said a quick ‘it was nice to meet you’ before he turned around and walked back the way he came.

You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face. You could already tell this was going to turn out to be a great job. You couldn’t wait to get to work tomorrow. And you couldn’t pretend part of that wasn’t because you wanted to see Spencer again.

And not just because that’s what your eyes wanted. You had enjoyed talking with him. You felt like you’d really hit it off. You felt like you two could really become good friends and coworkers.

You turned to Shayne, aware that you were probably still smiling like an idiot.

“What?” He fixed you with a quizzical look.

“Nothing, I’m just excited to start working here,” you said.

Shayne raised an eyebrow.

“And,” You added, reluctantly, and only because you knew Shayne would find out eventually, “you didn’t tell me my boss was hot.”

Now Shayne raised both eyebrows, “Spencer?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “I mean, he’s single, so go for it if you want. He seemed like he really liked you and—”

“No,” you cut him off, “Definitely not. He’s my boss. I don’t want to ‘go for’ anything other than a good, friendly, professional relationship.”

“Okay,” Shayne nodded.

You nodded back and he was silent for a moment before smiling,

“‘Course that’s what I said about Courtney…”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You took a sip of your coffee from the mug you were holding as you made your way down the hall and towards your office.

You’d been working at Smosh for approximately seventeen days and you had finally stopped getting lost throughout the building on a daily basis.

Once Spencer had showed you the ropes and made sure you knew what you were doing, you had joined right in to the well oiled machine that was Smosh.

Unfortunately, your sense of directions wasn’t as good as your work ethic and so it had taken extra time for you to remember where everything was. Much to Shayne’s amusement.

You were deep in thought as you rounded the corner and you didn’t see the person right in front of you.

You ran straight into Spencer and as you collided with him, your coffee drink spilled all down your front as you were knocked to the floor. You quickly picked yourself up off the ground.

“I am so sorry,” you rushed, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s all good,” Spencer said, standing up, “I am officially awake now, so I guess I owe you one.”

You laughed with him but you felt your face getting hot in embarrassment. You looked down at your blouse and found it more brown than it was purple from the coffee. You tried in vain to wipe it off.

“Damn, I hope that wasn’t a family heirloom too,” Spencer pointed to your shirt, “Here, take my hoodie.”

He started to pull the sweatshirt over his head as you protested, “No, it’s ok—I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad—it’s kind of a look.”

“Really, I insist,” Spencer said, handing you his hoodie. “Gives me a chance to show off my anime t-shirt anyway.”

You took the sweatshirt from him, mumbling your thanks and pulling it over your head.

Spencer’s scent engulfed you as you put on his warm hoodie and you tried not to get distracted by the way his cologne made you a little bit dizzy.

Over the last several days, as you’d been adjusting to your new job, you’d almost forgotten your tiny crush on Spencer.

Almost.

You’d been so focused on work that you hadn’t really had time to stop and think about your feelings towards your boss.

You really enjoyed working with him and he was quickly becoming your favorite person at Smosh—other than Shayne, of course. You sent a silent apology to him in your head.

And then there were the moments when Spencer would laugh at one of your jokes or compliment you on a task you did or smile shyly at you up through his lashes and you felt all warm inside.

Like right now—him giving you his hoodie. That brought you out of your reverie as you remembered where you were. Standing in front of the man you were currently lost in thought about.

“Right, well, I better get back to—” You gestured in front of you, trailing off as you had honestly forgot what exactly you were headed to your office for.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you from—” He gestured in the direction you had, as if the nothing that you had indicated was what needed your attention.

You rolled your eyes at him amicably before heading in the direction you had been going.

After a quick stop in your office—you hadn’t found what you apparently had been looking for in there. And if while you were in the office by yourself you pulled up the collar of the sweater to your nose for a second or seven, who was there to see you?—you set off for the break room.

You saw Shayne sitting at a table with some other cast and crew members and you walked over towards him, plopping down across from him and Erin, an associate producer for Smosh.

You had gotten to know her a bit throughout these past couple weeks and already felt like you had been friends for months.

“Hey you,” Shayne greeted, “What’s up?”

You shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old same old. What’s new with you?”

“Well, we filmed a TNTL this morning, and I had this new idea for a character. So basically—”

“(Y/n), is that Spencer’s sweatshirt?” Erin interrupted, her eyes fixed on your top.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you told her.

At the same time Shayne asked, “How do you even know what Spencer wore to work today?”

“I’m a woman, we know these things,” Erin paused. “Come on, he wears that thing four times a week, like it’s hard.”

She turned her gaze back to you.

You cleared your throat. “But, yeah, anyways, I spilled coffee on my blouse so he gave me this.”

Erin raised an eyebrow, “Did he now?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked her, trying your hardest not to blush.

“No reason,” she leaned back, acting casual, “It’s just Dude 101, a guy doesn’t give a girl his hoodie unless he likes her.”

You scoffed, “That’s crazy, Erin. He was just being nice.”

This you felt sure about. Whatever your feelings were towards Spencer, you were sure he only though of you as his coworker.

Right?

“Well, it’s obvious you like him,” Erin added, as if that was an absolute fact.

“What?” You spit out, probably faster and louder than was necessary or convincing.

You glanced at Shayne and he raised his arms as if to say, Don’t look at me, my lips have been sealed!

“I’ve seen the way you act around him, (Y/n). And the way he acts around you.”

Was it that obvious that you had a little, tiny crush on Spencer? I mean, you guys got along really well. And we’re constantly making each other laugh. But that just meant you were friends, right? He definitely didn’t act any different around you than he did with anyone else at Smosh, did he?

Granted, you hadn’t even been working here three weeks yet and you weren’t one hundred percent sure how he acted around everyone else. But you had no reason to believe it was any different than with you!

“You’re crazy,” you told Erin.

“So you deny, it?” She folded her hands on the table in front of her, “You don’t have feelings for Spencer?”

“Well,” you started. You didn’t want to lie to her, not when you were just starting a friendship. You sighed, lowering your voice so only Erin and Shayne could hear you, “I might have some feelings for—”

“Spencer!” Shayne said loudly and awkwardly, as if to warn you of his sudden presence behind you.

You spun around probably too quickly and found yourself looking up at him.

“Hi, Spencer,” you said, sincerely hoping he hadn’t overheard any of the previous conversation.

“Hey (Y/n), long time no see,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “So, I was wondering, since we’ve got that big project coming up next Wednesday, do you think you’d be able to meet me outside of work to get a head start on it? We could go to a coffee shop or my place or something?”

He almost looked…nervous asking you to work on a project outside of normal work hours. Probably just figuring you’d decline at sacrificing your free hours.

You watched as Erin raised an eyebrow and you promptly ignored her.

“Yeah sure,” you said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Really?” He sounded relieved, “Ok awesome, I’ll text you some dates.”

“Perfect,” you said, “And it’ll give me a chance to give you back this hoodie once I have other clothes to change into.”

“Keep it,” Spencer shrugged, looking down “It looks way better on you that it ever did on me anyways.”

You brushed your hair behind your ears. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“‘Course you will have to give me something in return,” he said, “I mean, fair’s fair, man.”

“Naturally,” you looked down at your body to find something suitable, your eyes landing on the scrunchie at your wrist.

You handed it to him and he took your offering, slipping the scrunchie into his wrist.

“Classy,” he nodded, holding his arm out at different angles to look at it.

“Very,” you agreed, giggling.

You both fell silent and you looked back down at the table. Shayne said something to Spencer and they began a conversation—the chosen, something something—and you were silent until Spencer left the table, laughing at something Shayne had said.

Immediately after he exited the room, Erin pounced.

“Okay what the hell was that?” She asked.

“What was what?”

Erin put on a high voice and then a low voice and back again, mimicking your conversation “Oh, hi, Spencer. Hi, (Y/n). Wanna come to my place? Oh, I’d love to. You look so sexy. No you look sexy. Wanna exchange wardrobes?”

“Okay, that’s not how any of that went,” you said, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling.

“That’s what it sounded like from over here,” Shayne added. “He invited you to his house, man. And he’s gonna text you?”

You’d exchanged numbers right after you began your job, but you hadn’t actually had many text conversations. You didn’t really think it was a big deal.

“Yeah, we’ve texted before,” you said, “But don’t think it means anything, so far he’s mostly just sent me memes.”

“What kind of memes?” Shayne asked, as though this was severely important.

“Cat, SpongeBob, the occasional wombat.”

“Trust me,” he said, “that means something. I’m a psychologist, so I kinda know these things.”

“Havingapsychologydegreeisn’tthesameasbeingapsychologist,” Erin coughed into her hand.

“You know what—” Shayne started, turning to Erin.

“Guys,” you interrupted.

“Right,” Erin agreed, “not the time. What I’m trying to say is, that was flirting Miss (Y/n), whether you like it or not.”

Had you and Spencer been flirting? You weren’t exactly an expert on the subject, so maybe Erin was right. A part of you definitely hoped that was the case.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Amanda leaned in from the table next to yours, “But I also think there was definitely flirting going on.”

You, Shayne, and Erin all turned to look at her.

“Come on people, you know I like kissing scenes, why should this come as a shock?” She threw up her hands and you laughed.

“Who’s kissing?” You hadn’t seen Courtney enter the room, but now she came and sat down next to her husband and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“We were just talking about how it’s just a matter of time before Spencer and (Y/n) are totally gonna ba—”

“Erin!” You cut her off, definitely blushing now as Courtney giggled.

“So you and Spencer, huh?” She asked, smiling.

“That’s what these two seem to think,” you gestured to your friends.

“Not think,” Erin said.

“We know,” Shayne finished.

“Fine,” you relented a bit, “I do like him, a little. Well, okay a lot. I guess I like him a lot. He’s smart and sweet and funny and charming and so cute and has great cologne, apparently,” you gestured to the hoodie. You took a deep breath. “And I really really like him.”

You realized as you said it, that it was true. You’d spent the past couple of weeks trying to convince yourself that you only thought of Spencer as a friend and a coworker. But you realized, the more you talked to your friends, that you really did have feelings for him. That were more than friendly or coworker-ly.

Maybe this was something that you really did want. And that could maybe happen. You had felt the connection between you and Spencer, so it was possible he might feel the same way about you.

Unless you were reading this all wrong and—Oh God, what if you told him how you felt and he rejected you and then you had to work side by side with him in awkwardness forever?

“But so what? It’s not as if he feels the same way. I don’t want to make things weird between us,” you finished.

“Trust me, my guy, he likes you,” Courtney contributed. “I’m married to a psychologist, I know these things.”

“See!” Shayne crossed his arms triumphantly and Erin rolled her eyes.

“Stilldoesn’tcount,” she cough-spoke.

“And I’m taking this back!” You said, noticing the ring on Shayne’s middle finger and reaching over to grab it, once and for all.

“Anyways,” Courtney finished, “I say tell him how you feel, see where this goes.”

“I concur,” Shayne said and his wife raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I’ve always wanted to say that!”

“She’s right,” Erin said, “and by the end of the week you’ll be ban—”

“Erin!”

She merely smirked as she picked up her soda drink and took a sip.

“So I just go up and ask Spencer out?” You messed with the drawstrings of your sweatshirt. You were encouraged by your friends’ words, and you really wanted to go up and just do it, but you felt doubt creeping in.

“What if I mess up what I’m trying to say? Or fall on my face walking up to him? Or worse, what if he says no?”

“He wouldn’t.” You heard his voice first. You looked up and found him walking slowly through the doorway as he kept speaking. “Say no, I mean. If I know him as well as I think I do—and I pride myself on knowing him pretty damn well—then he’d say yes.”

He was in front of you now. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

You tried to catch your breath as you processed what was happening. “Oh yeah? What else would he say?”

“Well, uh, he’d probably that he’s attracted to you. And that he wanted to ask you out the moment he met you and is so glad you did it first because now he doesn’t have to continue his poor, pathetic attempts at making a move,” he said, placing a hand in the back of his neck.

You stood up, coming to stand right in front of Spencer. “When did you come back?”

You’d thought he’d walked away a few minutes ago after your conversation had ended.

“Never left,” he said, “Bent down to tie my shoe, and then I heard way too many nice things about myself to leave.”

You giggled, shoving his shoulder. “So humble.”

“Hey, when you hear someone professing their love for you…” Spencer shrugged.

“Ok, that’s not what was happening,” you crossed your arms.

“I beg to differ,” Erin piped in.

“Not what it sounded like from our side of the table,” added Shayne.

You had forgotten both of them were there. You’d been so caught up in what was happening with Spencer, you’d forgotten anyone was there, actually.

But as you looked around, you found that everyone currently occupying the break room was stopped to watch the two of you.

Angela whooped from a few tables over.

“Well since it’s unanimous, apparently,” you joked, “What do you say? Will you go out with me.”

“I most certainly will,” Spencer said, smiling at you.

You reached out and took his hand, linking it with yours. He looked at you for a moment before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You placed your hand where his lips had touched yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening. And you couldn’t wait to see where this went—you and Spencer, you thought. You felt giddy with excitement.

“Well, I’ll see ya later then,” Spencer said, beginning to walk backwards. “and I already have an idea for our first official date.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m gonna take you to a Payless ShoeSource.”

“I thought you liked my grandma shoes,” you crossed your arms.

“(Y/n), I like everything about you,” he said, “but those things have to to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this one!! have a lovely week all my spencer girlies 🤭🩰

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh fanfiction #smosh x reader #smosh imagine #smosh #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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carlsangel · 4 months ago

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dad’s rifle (g.i.t.w, ch.3)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

You always felt like you had an unfair disadvantage in life. You were on vacation when the world died, just with your dad and sister. He was in the military and barely had much time with you but he finally was able to take you somewhere for a week. There was a layover somewhere in Georgia when everything started to get progressively worse. You knew nothing about the area so when the apocalypse struck, you and your family were lost.

It was rough at first, your dad was oddly aggressive and your sister was cold. She never spoke to you, but she pushed you around when you needed to be. She probably saved your life multiple times without you even knowing.

Anyway the first couple months were rough but you were eventually able to be somewhat comfortable with it all. You missed your extended family like hell but you still had your dad and your sister. You were okay.

Until you weren’t.

At some point you guys were in a smaller group. Just a bunch of survivors doing their best to keep living. You would separate at night however, build campfires per family even though that sounded quite dumb. the flames were small so you weren’t visible. Your dad had surprised you with marshmallows that night. “Here take this one.” You were sad you didn’t make your marshmallow like his, he was always so good at it. Your sister was still not talking but she was enjoying herself as well. She ended up giving you her bracelet that night too. Just in case anything happened.

It wasn’t until the morning you woke up to the sounds of the dead along with your dad yelling. He grabbed you and your sister and bolted off into one direction, leaving the rest of the group to fend for themselves.

The dead still followed you to your new destination, an old cabin. In said cabin there was an old chair that looked quite large that your dad used to secure the door shut so you had time to escape. He lead you both into the far back room of the cabin and opened a window, a window that only opened half way.

Enough for you and your sister to get through. Meanwhile, the dead bursted through the door.

It was a quick goodbye.

You and your sister made it out alive. You were on your own for a little while after that. When it came down to it, your sister felt like she had to do whatever it took to protect you. She was often aggressive or rude when telling you what to do, only because she knew you’d listen to her. At the time she seemed so mean, but now that she was gone you could understand everything she taught you.

It wasn’t easy losing her either.

It happened maybe two months after your dad. You thought that if you were ever in a situation like the one when you lost your dad again, you’d do everything in your power to stop it. You constantly feel like you could’ve done anything to help, or maybe you should’ve stayed with him. Then you wouldn’t be in so much pain.

You and your sister ran into a horde of walkers. She knew that you’d never be able to run from it, not without a distraction. She looked around frantically for a solution. All she saw as a viable option was herself. She stops you and puts the bag on you. “You take the bag, you take dad’s rifle and you run. Run as far away as you can. Okay? I love you.” She tells you pressing a kiss to your forehead and pushing you in the opposite direction. She pulls her knife out of her belt and prepares, meanwhile you try to protest. “I don’t wanna leave you here, I-” She’d cut you off to tell you to just go.

So you run. You run as fast as you could all while sobbing your eyes out. You’ve been on your own ever since.

You learned to live alone, you took all the tips you and your sister had learnt together as well as some of your dad’s military experience and you ran with it. You did great by yourself, that fact never went unnoticed. You found a group or two you somewhat got along with and they would quite literally perish soon after meeting them. It was tragic, yes but you never got attached so it never quite got to you. After that you chose to isolate yourself, just so you didn’t have to deal with the pain. In reality it seems cold, but that’s just how you were able to say steady.

You wanted to stay alive, you knew that the only way your dad and sister’s memory would live on is if you were to stay alive and honor them. You hoped that one day you could tell stories about them to your children. That is if you made it to have any.

Anyway you dodged a fair amount of sketchy groups. You considered yourself as someone who got the good and bad ends of the apocalypse stick. You could sense when something wasn’t right and that saved you a lot of the time. For the shit end of it, well you lost your family. But that’s all in the past.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Now you were dealing with some sassy cowboy. He stole your rifle and ghosted you. Ironic for someone nicknamed the ghost in the woods, you were the one who was meant to disappear. Granted you could tell that Alexandria was having a rough time. Once the horde cleared to a louder section of the community you were able to get closer to get a good look at what was going on inside the walls. You could see the absolute grotesque amount of walkers, almost looking like an entire sea flood the front gates. Some spilled to the side and lingered there, so you steered clear.

A part of you felt somewhat anxious, you thought you’d be witnessing the fall of Alexandria. Maybe Carl would die, but you didn’t want to worry about that. At least you tried. You weren’t quite successful. Noticeably, Alexandria was going through a rough patch. They had tons of their people die, not to mention they drew plenty of attention with the blaring truck horn which you realized had hit at the opposite wall you were at. You lingered at the back wall rather than the busier side. Little did you know, you’d have a visitor.

You pulled your knife after hearing a branch snap behind you.

It was Carl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You keep your voice low so you don’t draw the walkers. “I’m here to get you.” He explains, he’s slightly out of breath. “Get me? It’s too dangerous for you to be outside the walls.” You tell him. Unfortunately he’s as stubborn as they come. “Which is why I’m here to get you. Cmon, we don’t have much time.” He tries to get you to move but you don’t budge. “You need to leave.”

Carl’s been so concerned for you the past couple days he hadn’t been coming out to see you. He’d been meaning to but everything seemed to be going downhill. Just the day before, the Wolves broke into Alexandria and he had to be there for Judith. He was scrambling to find any way for you to come back with him.

“Look, I get it, I didn’t bring back your rifle and…I know I pushed you a little too much to join Alexandria the other day. But this is serious. It’s life or death, okay? Just do the right thing. Come back to Alexandria. Just till the hordes cleared up and—maybe you’ll like it there and choose to stay. You don’t have to just please hear me out.” He pleads.

He’s so convincing, but you’re just as stubborn as he is.

“I told you I have no interest. I’m fine out here it’s not my first time around a horde. You should go.” You frustrated Carl to no end and he really didn’t want to annoy you or betray your trust, but he had no option. You could see him build up the strength.

“You either come back to Alexandria with me or you’re never getting your rifle back.”

The words that came out of his mouth were quite unlike him, he never wanted to be as bitchy as he was.

He just needed you to listen.

a/n: i want you all to know that when building this story, the sisters death made me so sad that i decided that canonically the sisters not dead she made it out and she’s looking for the reader trust

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd fanfiction #ghost in the woods

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sordidmusings · 10 months ago

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Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)

A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is.

Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him

Snippet:

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.

You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.

The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “oak barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.

“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.

You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin.

“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.

“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”

“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”

“Our first meeting.”

Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.

“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.

“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”

“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues.

“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”

“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into.

“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.

“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”

“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”

“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”

“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”

Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.

“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”

You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.

“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.

“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”

“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.

If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.

“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”

Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.

“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.

“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.

Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.

Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.

Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.

“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”

“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.

“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.

“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.

“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him.

Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.

You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”

He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”

“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.

“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”

“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.

“And,” you repeated. “And…”

You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.

While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.

He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.

In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.

He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.

When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection.

“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”

You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.

“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”

Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.

Finally, he unfroze.

“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.

“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.

“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”

You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.

“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead.

“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.

You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.

“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #one piece #request #my writing #fem reader #x reader #one piece x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #one piece fanfiction #mihawk fanfiction #opla

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daisyblog · 4 months ago

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Big Brother, Little Sister

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN, Harry and Grace find out Baby Burton is going to be a girl.

Based on this request.

“I think boy”. Harry spoke as he continue to prepare his and YN’s breakfast. Moving around the kitchen like routine.

“You’re wrong, they’re having a girl!”. YN politely argued back as Grace was asleep next to her in her bouncer.

“Boy!”.

“Girl!”.

“Boy!”

“Girl!”.

The pair went back and forth for a while, determined that they were correct. A smirk appeared on YN’s face, one that made Harry panic inside because that particular smirk meant she was up to something.

“Wanna make a bet?”. YN was confident in her feeling that Lottie was having a baby girl, but the look on Harry’s face suggested that when he didn’t answer straight away that he wasn’t. “Not so confident now are ya bubs?”.

Knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he said not to the bet, he gave in. “Fine…let’s make a bet, Mrs Sassy!”.

YN’s smirk only got bigger as she looked at her husband with mischief. “Okay…if I’m right and they’re having a girl”. YN thought carefully at what Harry would have to do if he was wrong. “You have to post on instagram!”.

To some the bet would seem easy, they would say that Harry had the better option. But Harry hardly used social media, especially for personal use. His instagram was very professional these days and was only used for work purposes, and before posting anything he would think about it carefully.

Harry stared back at his wife with a ‘really?’ look. When YN nodded to show she was serious about the bet, he knew he had to take the chance. “Fine…but I get to chose what I post!”.

“Sounds like you think I’m right…shall we just end the bet here?”. YN couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to wind her husband up.

“Oh no…I have a bet for you too my love!”. YN wasn’t overly concerned about it, she was for the challenge but the minute Harry mentioned two words, one and direction, she began to pray that she was right. “If they’re having a boy…you have to stop asking when One Direction are getting back together!”.

YN was going to find that difficult to do, she asked multiple times a week. But not wanting to show her weak side now, she gave Harry a big grin. “Bets on Styles!”.

---

YN paced for what felt like hours as she waited for her phone to ping with a message from Lottie. Today was the day they found out if their were having another niece or nephew.

Although Lottie and Lewis wanted to share their gender reveal with both their families at the same time, with everyone living in different areas or having other commitments, they decided they would share the moment with a small video.

The sound of YN’s phone pinging, caught both their attention. She quickly swiped and tapped the screen before clicking play on the video.

The cream cake with ‘baby’ written across it could be seen as a slice was being cut out, and the minute pink icing came into view, YN jumped from her seat.

“IT’S A GIRL!”. She bounced around the room, a large grin on her face, showing off her pearly white teeth. “We’re having a niece…it’s a girl…Grace you’re gonna have a little girl cousin”.

YN jumped into Harry’s arms as he held her tight, sharing the excitement of another little one joining their growing family. Agreeing they needed to FaceTime Lottie immediately to share their excitement, YN had one question for Harry.

“Do you need help using Instagram?”.

harrystyles

liked by annetwist, ynstyles and 5,723.091 others

harrystyles Wife. Daughter. My World. View all 9,621 comments

annetwist What a beautiful wife and daughter you have💕

lottietomlinson ❤️

louist91 Did YN post this?🤔 ⌞louisfan9 😂😂 ⌞ynstyles No you cheeky shit! My husband loves me💁🏼‍♀️ ⌞ynrryfan3 I miss tour days when we would get constant yn and louis updates 😢

niallhoran Oh Styles you big sap

gemmastyles Sister-in-Law. Niece. My Favourites. ⌞harryfan6 Not Gemma taking the piss out of Harry’s caption😂😂😂

harryfan7 Harry’s first of the year and it’s of yn and grace🥹🥹🥹

jonnyharvey93 Cute photo mate! Can’t wait to see you all soon!!

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk

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queenofthepirates83 · 3 months ago

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POOKIE! Can you pretty pretty please make me one with pyramid head from silent Hill? (😔🤞🏻) LOVE: Your best friend jazzy🤭

I got you booboo bear 💪😣

Pyramid head x reader

Tag: Drabble, one-shot, smut

TW: you die in the end, female anatomy implied, slight BDSM(if being held together by hands count), breeding, belly bulge, ALL CONSENSUAL, I made him bigger than he actually is 🤷‍♀️, tell me if I missed anything <3

Words: 680

A/N: it’s not too detailed, I just mainly gave the gist. Please don’t judge 😣🙏 this is my first smut fic

You wandered into Silent Hill after your car had broken down. You weren’t sure why, everything seemed fine, it just broke down.

Anyway, you began walking through the quiet town, glancing around, trying to find somebody. And nothing.

The town was empty, to your eyes at least.

You couldn’t help but have this nagging feeling that something was watching you. You felt a pair of eyes on you. Or what you assumed was eyes.

You turned to find what you could only describe as a…..pyramid…? A pyramid head. He had a pyramid…as a head…

You began screaming, of course, like any natural human would.

You never would have thought that wandering into this town would’ve gotten you bent in half by the much larger hands of a man with a pyramid head. Throughout the interaction you referred to him as Pyramid Head. At least you would’ve if your mind wasn’t so clouded by the fact a dick; much much much larger than any others you have ever had inside to you, was completely splitting you in half.

As you wandered through the town, you looked around, searching for any sort of life. Literally anything. Yet…nothing. Typical.

You debated heading back to your car, calling somebody or simply walking back to where you came from.

You would’ve if it was that easy. Now you know it was the safe option to go back to your car, you’ve seen plenty of horror movies…but like every character, you’re simply curious. And there’s no cell service and it’s more than 10 miles to get back to the town you came from.

When you turned around to be face to face with Pyramid Head, you could only ever scream. At the top of your lungs. Of course he shut you up, pushing your jaw close with his finger.

One thing, of course, led to another, now your hands on are on some wall as you’re bent over, only being held up by Pyramid Head’s hand, which was flat on your stomach, the bulge of his cock moving in and out of your pussy, making wet squelches as it did; his dick making a belly bulge, which he could feel.

His other hand was under your jaw, holding it up so you didn’t smack your head against the wall.

You would’ve looked to see the infamous wall I keep mentioning but alas, his dick was going in and out at such a rapid pace that you couldn’t, your eyes rolling so far back into your head you thought they would just roll out soon enough.

You felt another orgasm approaching, stacking onto the multiple others you just had. Once you felt the knot in your stomach tighten more and then suddenly snap, you inhaled a gasp then let out a deep breath as Pyramid Head readjusted you.

He lifted you off the ground just enough to be able to flip you over. He slid back in, quite easily due to all the cum and slick.

His hands held you up, off the ground, his hands easily covering a majority of your waist.

Your head dropped down, your mouth open as you let out screams and moans; your head bobbed back and forth as he thrusted into you along with your legs. You had bent them up, your knees held up by the upper part of his underarm.

He had came a few times, his cum leaking out more and more with every thrust.

Anyway…you continued to scream, getting stretched out by the second. With every new position he put you in, he only reached in further, hitting your g-spot over…and over…and over.

Soon enough you both approached your last orgasm, the knot inside of you tightening and of course snapping. You felt yourself getting even more fuller, like you had other times before when he came.

He pulled out, his cock becoming more softer. He set you on the ground, being careful not to startle you or anything.

He grabbed his big ‘ol sword and plunged it into you, killing you almost immediately.

The end 😧😧

#fanfic #fanfic writer #slashers smut #smut #silent hill #silent hill x reader #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #request

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augustjustice · 1 year ago

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Pretty in Pink

AO3 Link

I am still firmly on my Stevie Harrington agenda this week, so please enjoy below Eddie's thirsty-turned-sappy thoughts about his favorite girl, inspired by @getlost0p's absolutely delightful art as well @cherrycolasteve's very cute tags.

Eddie taps the pen against his front teeth absently, eyes flitting uncomprehendingly over the various multiple choice options of his practice test. With his brain already feeling fuzzy and unfocused, it’s easy to let his gaze drift away from the page over to the girl currently sprawled out beside him–Stevie Harrington, curled up reading the X-Men comic Dustin had strong-armed her into picking up.

And, look–who could really blame him for getting a little distracted? There's a hot girl in his bed which is, admittedly, a rare enough occurrence–until shit went sideways last spring, at least–to still feel a little notable. Even if she is only there for moral support while he studies, his GED test date circling ever closer.

Stevie's wearing a striped white and pink polo with the buttons undone all the way to the bottom of the neckline and tight stonewash jeans. The absolute preppiest of prep attire, completed by the cherry-flavored chapstick shining red on her lips.

Eddie wants to kiss her stupid.

The jeans are high waisted, pulled up snug over the curve of her ass, and with Stevie rolled onto her stomach reading the comic, Eddie's getting quite the view.

Then she shifts, flopping over onto her back beside him, the movement followed by the sound of pages turning. The new position offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a further hint of what her clingy polo is doing such a great job of highlighting.

Eddie looks. Of course he looks.

Estrogen has taken to Stevie’s figure like a duck to water. In the plush spread of her hips, making her pert ass even rounder, which Eddie would have thought was damn near impossible. And in the plumpness steadily gathering at her chest, her once defined pecs softening, giving way to the gentle swell of her breasts, which grow fuller by the day.

It’s become something of a problem for him lately–the staring.

That was true, to some extent, even before she started to transition. Stevie's always been gorgeous, and Eddie's always been aware of that fact, harboring a hopeless, from afar crush on her since they landed in the same impossible English class his first senior year and Eddie had become painfully aware of what all the Hawkins High girls were on about. Not that he would have admitted that, at the time, not even under threat of painful, agonizing death–no, the coming terms with it came later, during his spring break from hell spent realizing that Stevie Harrington was not only surprisingly sweet but a totally badass, bonafide hero.

…The whole ripping that bat apart with her teeth thing certainly didn't hurt, either.

The point is, he's always looked at Stevie, flirted with her. Probably been too obvious about it, too.

It's just that since she started to transition, it feels like he's gotten so much worse, like any subtlety he was holding on to by his fingernails has been ripped from his hands. Eddie can’t stop staring at her, the heat of embarrassment prickling his face, tongue-tied like a school boy with a crush each and every time he gets caught.

And that's the worst part of it–he does get caught, far more often than he'd like.

It’d been months, now, since the first time Stevie explicitly called him out for it–a warm Saturday in the summer when they had dragged the kids down to the arcade, trying to beat the heat with the dark, air-conditioned interior of the local nerd haunt.

Stevie had been watching Erica beat her own high score at Duck Hunt, leaned over the machine in her Daisy Duke cutoff shorts and a cropped pink jersey, ponytail swinging against her back and the scars littering her sides unashamedly on display. That’s something they had both been working themselves up to, together–not hiding their war wounds, fighting off the anxiety that came from people’s stares.

But Eddie had been staring for an entirely different reason when Stevie caught him.

As Erica ran off to ‘pummel’ Dustin after his latest Dig Dug win, Stevie propped an elbow on the abandoned game, shooting Eddie a knowing look.

“Like what you see, Munson?” she asked coyly.

Eddie’s entire face flamed with heat.

“I was just–your top!” he blurted. “I was just admiring your top, my lady. It’s…it’s cute. The pink–think that might be your color, Harrington.”

Stevie’s cheeks burned her own pretty pink to match it, then, which Eddie couldn’t help but preen about.

And if he noticed she started wearing a lot more pink around him after that, well…he tried not to read too much into it.

Just like the pretty pale pink she’s wearing today, attracting his eye and forcing Eddie to hold back a twitterpated sigh as he watches her, wrapped up in the bright primary colored pages of the X-Men

…This bullshit of his is definitely gonna get his ass kicked by Robin or Nancy, one of these days, he’s sure of it. Possibly both of them at once–Buck may just hold him down while Wheeler does what she does best.

But the truth is, it's not just about how Stevie’s figure has steadily filled out. He's not gonna lie, that's definitely part of it–but also…she just has this glow about her, now, like she's settling so happily into herself. It’s like that contentment beams out of her, radiant, in every little gesture, every giddy smile. He's drawn in by it, like Icarus with the sun, like a moth to a flame–too entranced to turn away, even if it might end up burning him in the long run.

The thing is, Stevie's beautiful, and she takes his breath away.

She’s become such an intrinsic part of his life, since everything that happened, he’s not entirely sure what he would do without her. Hell, they still share a bed, some nights–fighting back the nightmares together is always easier. And in the intervening months since that started, she's grown steadily softer beside him, curves pressing against his body where there were once hard planes and sharper angles. Her presence is no less warm and comforting than it had been from the beginning, though, her weight and smell familiar, the steady rhythm of her breathing when it finally evens out the same.

Eddie wonders if they were supposed to have stopped doing that, somewhere along the way–the sleeping together part, even though they're only doing it in the most platonic, just-friends sort of way possible. Then again, he's never put all that much stock in it, what he is and isn't supposed to be doing. Besides, how much difference could stopping really have made? Not a whole hell of a lot, in his opinion, considering they've both been bi as fuck the whole damn time.

Sharing a bed all the time doesn't really help his other problem–the staring, the thinking about Stevie's plush curves and soft skin–but that's his own shit to deal with and work out. Stevie shouldn't have to suffer through the nights alone just because Eddie can't keep his hard on for her in check.

So, yeah. He thinks she’s a knockout–of course he does–but the truth is, that’s all secondary to the way he feels about her. She’s steadily grown into one of his best friends, in the time since he’s finally gotten to actually know her. And if all he ever gets to do is look–and better yet, talk to her, bicker and joke and tease, share popcorn at movie nights crammed too close together on the Harrington’s couch and laugh at all the same stupid inside jokes–well, he considers himself honored for the privilege of it.

“What, Munson?” Stevie laughs suddenly, drawing him out of his reverie–during which he had, of course, still been staring–by smacking him lightly on the arm with her comic book.

That had been another secret, shared between them–Stevie liked the X-Men, she’d confessed, even if she couldn’t resist pretending otherwise to Dustin. She said the Mutants made her feel…seen, in a way she really hadn’t ever before.

"I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart," Eddie had agreed easily when she told him.

"Kinda figured you might, Eds,” she had shot him a soft smile, which he returned in kind.

That feeling of being seen–understood–stretched out beyond the pages of the comic book to encompass them both, the way they just fundamentally got each other.

"Mystique's got nothing on you, though," he had added with a wink, falling back on his old routine of borderline flirtation just for the pleasure of seeing her blush yet again, ducking her head as she gave his shoulder an exasperated nudge.

He blinks back to reality, finds himself looking into those same mesmerizing eyes now, big and brown and staring back at him expectantly. A smile plays at the corners of Stevie’s mouth as she puts her comic aside. Scooting closer, she reaches to give one of his test booklet pages a quick shake.

"You're supposed to be studying, you know. Believe me, I get how hard that can be, and I wasn't exactly the best in school…but I'm still like 99% sure you at least have to look at the page before you get it,” she teases. “And I haven’t got the answers to this question secretly penciled somewhere up my sleeve, promise. So, not really sure how staring at me is gonna help you here."

Eddie studies her face–the amused pink curve of her mouth, the cute little moles that dot her cheeks and throat.

That wistful sigh finally escapes him.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies on autopilot, and then, the confession rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, “you’re just so…fucking pretty.”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, he cringes, preparing to blurt out yet another apology–and then Stevie’s finger presses against his lips. When he glances at her, he finds that her whole face has lit up.

Well, fuck. If she’s gonna look at him like that, he can’t even be sorry for his big mouth.

Then, surprise of all surprises–he feels a jolt as she leans in and pecks him once on the cheek, lips smooth from her cherry chapstick.

“Thanks. You’re sweet, Eddie,” Stevie murmurs, quietly, as she pulls back. Then, her smile turns mischievous, pretty eyes giving one of her patented, exasperated eyerolls. “And good of you to finally say something about it.”

Eddie barks out a disbelieving laugh before he can help it, hiding his face for a moment between his fingers.

“Seriously, Harrington, you know you’re a total babe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stevie agrees, a glimmer of that overconfidence she’d carried herself with in school shining out. Eddie can’t even lie–he loves it. “But a girl still likes to hear it, now and again.”

“Shit, Stevie.” Head still ducked, Eddie reaches out slowly and takes her hand, twiddling with her fingers as he looks up from beneath the fringe of his bangs. “Now that I know you want me, too–I’ll tell you anytime you want.”

Reaching forward, Stevie tucks a tuft of hair behind Eddie’s ear, not letting him hide behind the curtain of it. Then, she leans in, and this time she presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Eddie sucks in another sharp, surprised breath, finally tasting that cherry flavor for himself.

“I’m totally gonna hold you to that one, Eds,” she says, leaving their foreheads pressed gently together even once she pulls back, “so just get ready for it.”

But, then, a mere moment later, Stevie is bouncing backwards on the bed, giggling when Eddie leans in, trying to chase after her lips again. He groans as she picks up his booklet and presses it against his chest.

“You can check me out all you want later, stud,” Stevie shoots him a wink, flipping open to the page he had left off on. “But, for now…you’ve gotta get back to work.”

When she settles down beside him this time, though, she stays close, hooking her chin over his shoulder.

“And, I’ve got an idea. A tried and true method for studying. Works every time.”

“That right?” Eddie tilts his head to face her, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, lay it on me, then, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

He taps a finger lightly against her temple. The playful twinkle in Stevie’s eyes as she grins at him makes Eddie’s heart skip a bit.

“How about…I give you a kiss for every question you get right?” she murmurs, close enough her warm breath ghosts over his skin.

Eddie lets his eyes drop down to the red shine of her lips, and feels giddy, for once, knowing he can look his fill. After a long, loaded pause, he gives a sharp nod, clapping his hands together.

“You know what, Stevie? Studying never sounded so good.” Snatching up his pen again, he settles back with the test now spread across both their laps. “I’m in.”

And, this time, whenever Stevie distracts Eddie from his studies–well. At least he can tell himself it’s all in the name of a good cause.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #transfem steve harrington #steve harrington #stevie harrington #my writing #my stuff #my things #bi eddie munson #bi steve harrington

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arogaba · 3 months ago

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This legacy is based on the same one by @sweetlysimss who very graciously gave me permission to try my hand at converting the challenge for TS3. It's not perfect but I tried my best to stick to the original rules and try and make it fun!

Tag: #nsbxbpr should be fine still or @ me if you do try this out!

Rules:

This challenge can be played with vanilla, banilla, or berry sims

As per the challenges this is based on, the romance options are a mix between those in the BPR or NSB, allowing you to choose which you’d like (or mix them up if you wish!)

There is an optional generational challenge to paint/take a photo of your heir for every generation

The generational requirements do not need to be strictly followed/can be changed as you see fit - the important thing is to have fun!

Generation 1: White

You come from a long line of privileged sims. Life was easy for you and you never wanted for nothing. Despite the easy life, you also felt constricted, unable to be yourself. Now that you’re a young adult, you decide to break free from your parents and pursue your own dreams. Packing your bags, and taking enough money to get by with you, you run away to the old, rundown, farmhouse that the only grandparent you cared for left you in the will. Starting off with nearly nothing to your name, you decide to pursue the hobby you were never allowed to chase to its extent: painting. Due to your upbringing, you find it difficult to let other sims in and may come across as rude sometimes. What you really need is that one special sim to make you feel like it’s all worth it. Slowly but surely, as the years go by, your own family starts to grow, but life is not without its ups and downs…

Recommended traits: artistic, snob, grumpy, hopeless romantic

Career: none; make money through your paintings, fishing, and harvestables

Move into your grandparent’s old house. Must be fairly basic/rustic (the size of the house/lot is up to you)

Max the painting, gardening, and logic skills

Have multiple romantic interests throughout your life, but do not settle permanently with any of them until after you have your first child.

Go on at least one date with a purple, pink, and/or a red sim

Have one child

Get married (does not have to be the parent of your child)

Become enemies with the other sims you did not end up with

Have one more child (can be adopted or an alien baby if you wish!)

Sell at least two masterpiece paintings

Have at least two animals in your household

Optional: raise one from its youngest lifestage all the way through to elder

Be good friends with all your children and animals

Become good friends with at least one grandchild

Generation 2: Purple/Pink/Red

Although not everyone would believe you, you would say you had a great childhood. You grew up sheltered but loved by your parents and sibling. From a young age, you had a great passion for reading and books, though all those days spent reading might have left you with a few unrealistic expectations about life. Despite everything, you are eager to see everything that life has to offer and a sudden once-in-a-lifetime trip might change your world forever…

Recommended traits: bookworm, computer whiz, great kisser, irresistible, family oriented

Career: writer

Max the painting and writing skills

Optional: master the charisma skill too

Shortly after you become a YA go to one of the WA worlds or travel to the future. Your time here winds up inspiring you for the rest of your life

Become a writer

Either become a genre specialist or write a book from every genre

Kiss at least five different sims in your life

Leave a sim at the alter (peach or yellow)

Must have had at least two children with this sim

Have a difficult relationship with at least one of your children after the separation from your ex-partner

Have at least 3 children with any other sim (or the sim you eventually marry)

Do not marry until you are an elder

The sim you marry must be yellow or peach (whichever was not the colour of your first spouse)

The sim you marry must be in the culinary career

Generation 3: Peach/Yellow

It is fair to say that you grew up in quite a hectic household. The only person who spends time with you and truly understands you is your childhood best friend. The two have you been through thick and thin. They were initially drawn to you for your quiet nature, your inquisitive soul, and a passion for nature inherited from your grandparent. In your late teens, you start to notice those traits are working against you, causing others to call you “weird” or “different”, so you adapted. However, in the process of becoming this new version of yourself, you find yourself losing the one thing you ever held dead. Will you ever get your best friend back? Only time will tell…

Recommended traits: loner, shy, brooding, disciplined, athletic

Career: professional sports and then unemployed when you become an adult (though you can supplement your household funds with your collections)

Max the painting, athletic, and martial arts skills

As a child join the boy/girl scouts, and then join one of the afterschool clubs as a teenager

As a child meet your best friend in a different neighbourhood (orange or grey)

As a teen, never have any close friends except for your best friend and any of your grandparents if they are still alive

As a teen, date your childhood best friend

As a young adult, you decide to change your life around and become the social, popular sim you’ve always wanted to be

Join the professional sports career

You and your best friend begin to drift apart and eventually separate

Not long after they leave, you realise you are pregnant

You date around but nothing lasts

Complete one or more of the following collections: metals, gems, insects, fish, or plants

Do not have a good relationship with your child until they are a teenager

After becoming an adult, quit your career in sports but continue to make money by selling your collections

As an adult, reconcile with your childhood best friend

Optional: have one more child

Get married

Generation 4: Orange/Grey

Unlike your parents, you are far more practical when it comes to your life choices - or so you like to claim. After getting interested in your grandparent’s large book collection, you become interested in the occult, in particular witches. A mysterious book leads you to become a witch accidentally and soon strange things start to happen. Before you know it your great-grandparent has come back from the dead! In flesh and blood! How on Earth did that happen? As you begin to figure things out for yourself, a mysterious stranger takes an interest in your so called necromancy…

Recommended traits: bookworm, supernatural fan, artistic, night owl, gatherer

Career: fortune telling (you can supplement your household funds by selling potions/ingredients)

Max the painting and alchemy skills

Get a job in the fortune telling career

Date three sims but never get serious with any of them

One of these sims lead to you becoming a witch

Create every potion

Bring back your great-grandparent (up to you how this is done - you can cheat or use any of the methods in game)

Become at least good friends with them

Your necromancy catches the interest of a local doctor (yellow or purple) and you fall in love

Have at least five children together

Teach all your children their skills

Generation 5: Purple/Yellow

The world has so many beautiful sights to offer! You can’t wait to paint them, photograph them, or sculpt them! Your life seems to be going perfectly until one day it isn’t. One day you wake up questioning yourself, your career, even your partner! Don’t you deserve better? Of course you do! You decide to switch your life around first thing in the morning. but was it really the right choice to make?

Recommended traits: artistic, avant garde, good, excitable, savvy sculptor, photographer’s eye

Career: painter or sculptor

Max the painting skill, plus the sculpting and/or photography skills

Go to university and achieve a fine arts degree

Be enemies with at least one sibling

Start a relationship with a former classmate (orange or green)

Have at least one child

After becoming an adult, a midlife crisis hits you hard

Quit your job

End the relationship with your partner or divorce them. Afterwards, you continue to have a good relationship with them

Find a new job and skill to focus on as an adult

start a new relationship with a different orange or green sim (whichever colour was not your first partner)

Have at least one child

Generation 6: Orange/Green

Food is love. Crime is life. Doting parent and aspiring cook by day, criminal by night. Have you ever heard of a baking criminal? Neither have you, but someone should be the first. You have loved cooking and baking from a young age, though struggled to find your feet in the culinary career. When you leave at night your family think you are working at a swanky restaurant in town, little do they know you’re actually working for the most notorious criminal organisation in town! You prove yourself to be a hard worker but you know when to slack off and have fun. You make it a habit to visit every seasonal festival…with the bonus of getting some flirty looks from the cute sim in the crowds.

Recommended traits: artistic, natural cook, kleptomaniac, party animal

Career: criminal

Max the painting, mixology, and cooking skills

Learn all recipes (can just stick the base game ones if you wish)

Meet your spouse (teal or pink) at one of the festivals and become instantly smitten

Have at least two children. Twins are recommended!

One child must have the good trait, one must have the evil trait

Make at least three enemies

Steal something worth at least 10,000 simoleons

Generation 7: Teal/Pink

You and your sibling have been together through thick and thin. You are polar opposites but are as close as can be. From a young age, the two have you have always been competing with each other. Regrettably, they always seem to be the one in the spotlight, whereas you are left floundering in the dark. What you do excel at though is school and eventually, your career. You take a job in a rather niche area, one which raises a few eyebrows for certain, but you throw your whole heart into it. Let’s see who’s the best now!

Recommended traits: artistic, good or evil, family oriented, virtuoso

Be taught all your skills as a toddler

Be on the honour roll as a child and teenager

Have three good friends from school

As a young adult, join one of the ‘entertainer’ careers: musician, singer, acrobat, magician

Master at least one instrument

Fall in love with a fellow entertainer (blue or peach)

Partner must max the guitar

Have at least two children

Generation 8: Blue/Peach

Music runs in your veins, you enjoy it but it is not where your true passion lies. As a young sim, you’ve always been into drama, stories, and theatre. However, the town you live in doesn’t take too kindly to people who are different, flamboyant, and attention-seeking. As a young adult, you move to a new town and throw yourself into the world of celebrities, drama, and paparazzi.

Recommended traits: charismatic, diva, dramatic, artistic

Career: film star

Master the painting and charisma skills

Join the drama club as a teenager

As a young adult, move to a new town and move to an apartment

Join the movie career

Marry a co-worker or neighbour who is also a celebrity (lavender or green)

Have at least one child

Divorce them once you surpass them as a celebrity

Become a vampire before you become a YA to preserve your looks

Have at least one child after your marriage

This child needs to have the white gen one hair colour

They will become your heir

Become a five star celebrity

Either ruin or maintain a good reputation

After becoming a five star celebrity, reconnect with your ex

Have a negative relationship with your sibling(s)

Generation 9: Lavender/Green

Phew! What a ride that was! Eight whole generations have come before you, all with their own unique interests, drama, and dreams. You, however, want to take it easy. You surround yourself with simple things, friends and family, and your garden. You love the earth and want to preserve it for future generations. What will the universe have in store for you next?

Recommended traits: friendly, good, green thumb, artistic, eco friendly

Career: gardener or inventor - maybe even both!

Max the painting and gardening skills

Move to a small, simplistic house with a garden

Have at least three friends and three enemies

Throw a party at least once a season for your family and close friends

Accept every invitation for a party

Marry one of your best friends (colour is up to you!)

Try and live an eco-friendly lifestyle

Adopt at least one child

Teach your children all their skills

#nsbxbpr #sims 3 #the sims 3 #sims 3 legacy challenge #legacy challenge rules

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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An App Does Not a Master Naturalist Make

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/app-not-master-naturalist/ - I had written this as an op-ed and sent it to WaPo, but they had no interest, so you get to read it here instead!

I have mixed feelings about Michael Coren’s April 25 Washington Post article, “These 4 free apps can help you identify every flower, plant and tree around you.” His ebullience at exploring some of the diverse ecological community around him made me grin, because I know exactly what it feels like. There’s nothing like that sense of wonder and belonging when you go outside and are surrounded by neighbors of many species, instead of a monotonous wall of green, and that is a big part of what led me to become a Master Naturalist.

When I moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in 2006, I felt lost because I didn’t recognize many of the animals or plants in my new home. So I set about systematically learning every species that crossed my path. Later, I began teaching community-level classes on nature identification to help other people learn skills and tools for exploring their local flora, fauna, and fungi.

Threeleaf foamflower (Tiarella trifoliata)

Let me be clear: I love apps. I use Merlin routinely to identify unknown bird songs, and iNaturalist is my absolute favorite ID app, period. But these tools are not 100% flawless.

For one thing, they’re only as good as the data you provide them. iNaturalist’s algorithms, for example, rely on a combination of photos (visual data), date and time (seasonal data), and GPS coordinates (location data) to make initial identification suggestions. These algorithms sift through the 135-million-plus observations uploaded to date, finding observations that have similar visual, seasonal, and location data to yours.

There have been many times over the years where iNaturalist isn’t so sure. Take this photo of a rather nondescript clump of grass. Without seed heads to provide extra clues, the algorithms offer an unrelated assortment of species, with only one grass. I’ve gotten that “We’re not confident enough to make a recommendation” message countless times over my years of using the app, often suggesting species that are clearly not what I’m looking at in real life.

Because iNaturalist usually offers up multiple options, you have to decide which one is the best fit. Sometimes it’s the first species listed, but sometimes it’s not. This becomes trickier if all the species that are suggested look alike. Tree-of-Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), smooth sumac (Rhus glabra) and eastern black walnut (Juglans nigra) all have pinnately compound, lanceolate leaves, and young plants of these three species can appear quite similar. If all you know how to do is point and click your phone’s camera, you aren’t going to be able to confidently choose which of the three plants is the right one.

Coren correctly points out that both iNaturalist and Pl@ntNet do offer more information on suggested species—if people are willing to take the time to look. Too many assume ID apps will give an easy, instant answer. In watching my students use the app in person almost everyone just picks the first species in the list. It’s not until I demonstrate how to access the additional content for each species offered that anyone thinks to question the algorithms’ suggestions.

While iNaturalist is one of the tools I incorporate into my classes, I emphasize that apps in general are not to be used alone, but in conjunction with field guides, websites, and other resources. Nature identification, even on a casual level, requires critical thinking and observation skills if you want to make sure you’re correct. Coren’s assertion that you only need a few apps demonstrates a misunderstanding of a skill that takes time and practice to develop properly—and accurately.

Speaking of oversimplification, apps are not a Master Naturalist in your pocket, and that statement —while meant as a compliment–does a disservice to the thousands of Master Naturalists across the country. While the training curricula vary from state to state, they are generally based in learning how organisms interact within habitats and ecosystems, often drawing on a synthesis of biology, geology, hydrology, climatology, and other natural sciences. A Master Naturalist could tell you not only what species you’re looking at, but how it fits into this ecosystem, how its adaptations are different from a related species in another ecoregion, and so forth.

Map showing Level III and IV ecoregions of Oregon, the basis of my training as an Oregon Master Naturalist.

In spite of my criticisms, I do think that Coren was absolutely onto something when he described the effects of using the apps. Seeing the landscape around you turn from a green background to a vibrant community of living beings makes going outside a more exciting, personal experience. I and my fellow nature nerds share an intense curiosity about the world around us. And that passion, more than any app or other tool, is fundamental to becoming a citizen naturalist, Master or otherwise.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#iNaturalist #plant apps #Seek #Merlin #nature #wildlife #plant identification #apps #botany #biology #science #scicomm #science communication #Google Lens #naturalist #Master Naturalist #conservation #environment

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 27 days ago

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Hello lovely sex witch!!

I'm having a slightly complicated situation with a friend which is both too long to explain and also not your neck of the woods, but tldr; I think we might be vearing into the friends with benefits lane and I'm actually super cool with that if he's down. I'm obviously gonna talk to him about it to clarify what we both want out of it, but I'm wondering if you have any tips on how to negotiate the divide between.. "communicate everything beforehand" and "spontaneous sexy fun". Because the other day, shortly after he told me he'd be "down to have something, just not necessarily a relationship", we were WAY touchier/cuddlier than usual and were SO close to kissing multiple times, I was almost in his lap twice ... But no true moves were made. I don't want to cross boundaries and assume anything and ruin it all by running headlong into this, but on the other hand I kind of feel like he's waiting for me to make a move first and want to lean into that fun spontaneous sexy direction because !! This doesn't have to be super deep!

(the fact that this is both of our first (potentially) sexual relationship may or may not have an influence in your answer, just an extra detail)

Anyway, thanks in advance, your posts have really helped me re-evaluate my relationship with sex in general and it's because of you that I'm honestly even in a place to see where this will take me <333 very excited regardless, just figured I'd call in to see if you had any tips

hi anon,

I'm gonna be so real with you. the audacity of opening your question by saying "this is too long to explain and probably not your area" and then sending it anyway is egregious and I was extremely tempted to just delete this, but fortunately (for your query) this is a question that's not only easy to answer but important to address, so here we go:

you are creating a dichotomy that doesn't exist.

the options aren't "sex that's carefully pre-negotiated with a lawyer and legally binding paperwork" or "horny animal sex with no communication at all." planning things out beforehand can be great (and it's nonnegotiable, if you ever find yourself exploring BDSM) but you can navigate consent in the moment just as well.

"I feel like I'm picking up a vibe right now; do you want to kiss?"

"you can touch me here, if you want; I'd really like it."

"do you want to have sex?"

"does this feel good? are you comfortable?"

"I need to move to a different position, let's try this way."

"is there anywhere you don't want me to touch?"

"that was really fun, should we talk about making sex a regular thing? what would you want from that?"

it's just talking dude! you just gotta talk about it!

#sex edventures 2024

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tateypots · 1 month ago

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His Favourite Holiday

Joel x f!reader

Word Count 4.9K

18+ MDNI NON-CON

Summary: Being a ghost is super boring until a little Halloween power surge means Joel can finally get his hands on you.

A/N: I know this won’t be for everyone so please heed the warnings before reading, please protect yourself, I am not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Let me know if I missed anything. Written for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie’s Halloween Writing Challenge

TW: non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), mentions of death and being dead, haunting, non-consensual groping, non-consensual fingering, non-consensual oral (f receiving), non-consensual piv, non-consensual cream pie.

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Death was nothing like Joel had expected. It was, to put it mildly, excruciatingly dull. He hadn’t been entirely sure what would happen to him after his body finally gave up on him. He’d given up on the notion of God the night he’d lost Sarah, and with that any thought of heaven and hell went out of the window for him too. He supposed he’d been hoping for peace. That he finally might rest easy. No such luck. Instead he found himself aimlessly wandering around Jackson, watching his family and friends and neighbours carry on with their lives, unable to influence the world around him. To himself he still felt solid so it had been quite the shock the first time someone walked right through him. He still wasn’t quite used to that all these months later.

At first he had refused to accept his insubstantiality. Trying hard day after day to move something, knock a bottle off a table, tug back a curtain, give Tommy a quick swat to the back of the head. Anything to make himself known. If he could do that he could be useful he thought to himself. A tireless guardian keeping watch by the gates, able to alert the guards to anything they’d missed. But nothing ever happened, his hand just sinking right through whatever it was he was aiming at.

When he finally gave up hope of ever being able to interact with the world again he began occupying himself by spying on the townsfolk. Although now he supposed it was less spying and more haunting. But life within the walls of Jackson wasn’t all that exciting. The odd fight breaking out over imagined slights and misunderstandings and the occasional scandal of infidelity. He wished he could go out on a patrol but he was bound within the walls of Jackson, anytime he’d tried to leave he’d found himself ricocheted back to the square right in the centre of town.

He kept mostly to the public places. Only ever entering the homes he’d been invited inside while he was alive, some vestige of decency still clinging to him, not wanting to violate the privacy of his neighbours too far. It didn’t leave him too many options, having never made that many connections while he’d been breathing. Really it was only Tommy or Ellie’s homes that he ever found himself in. But he could never stomach to stay long. The ache that came with watching them was almost too much to bear.

So for months he carried on with his boring, lonely existence, no purpose and nothing to look forward to. Until you arrived.

Your arrival was the most noteworthy thing to happen to Jackson since his own demise, and to Joel, bored out his mind and bitter with frustration you were a shining beacon of hope. Someone new, a change to the dull routine he’d been forced into. It didn’t hurt that he found you painfully attractive, your soft curves and pretty face lighting a fire in him that he never thought he’d feel again.

You’d been picked up on patrol and brought back, you seemed a sweet shy thing, all wide eyed wonder and mumbled gratitude. You clearly thought Jackson was too good to be true, he saw you pinch yourself multiple times in an attempt to convince yourself you weren’t dreaming. And when Maria brought you to your new home, a small one bed cottage near the outskirts of town, he broke his rule and followed you inside, desperate to learn more about you.

After a quick tour and promise to return later to take you to the dining hall Maria departed. Joel did not. He watched you mill from room to room, getting your bearings. He followed you into the bathroom and watched as you turned the shower on. You squealed with excitement at feeling the water turn warm, shucking your clothes like they were hurting you and diving under the stream.

The moan you released when the warm water hit your skin made his dick twitch. He didn’t know it could do that anymore, but then you turned and he got an eyeful of your beautiful, glistening tits and his cock was at full mast almost immediately. Instinctively he reached into his pants and grabbed hold of his throbbing erection, giving it an experimental stroke. God it felt good. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried this since he found himself in this new state of being, but then, he hadn’t had much to get excited over. Until now.

He moved closer, watching as you ran a sudsy washcloth over your glorious body, stroking himself in a steady rhythm. Fat droplets of water cascading down your tits and over your nipples made his mouth water. God what he wouldn’t give to suckle them. To suck that supple flesh into his mouth, kiss and bite and mark them, hear you moaning and whimpering under him.

You turned and bent down to wash your legs and feet, putting your pussy on full display for him. The groan he released, had it been audible, would have rattled the windows with its volume and intensity. It was so pretty and pink and perfect. He couldn’t stop his free hand from shooting out as if to caress your folds but of course his hand sank right through your flesh. Biting back his disappointment at not being able to touch you he focused his gaze back on your body. Gazed longingly at your little hole, noting how much of a struggle it would be to force his big, throbbing cock into it, dreaming of how tight it would clench him.

You stood back up and positioned yourself back under the water, releasing a dreamy sigh of contentment that was enough to push Joel over the edge. He came hard, the thrill rushing through him like he’d been struck by lightning. He watched as phantom jets of cum fired onto to your belly only to disappear almost immediately. Well at least he didn’t have to worry about clean up. Being dead did have some perks after all.

Joel couldn’t help the small wave of guilt that washed over him. For using you so unabashedly for his own pleasure. But as he watched you carry on with your shower, completely unaware of his presence he decided it wasn’t doing you any harm and he needed this. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. And this was the best he’d felt since he died.

And so Joel gave up on his feigned interest in the rest of the town and focused himself solely on you. He followed you everywhere, watched as you settled into Jackson, started work, made a few friends. And every night he’d follow you home and jerk off as he watched you shower before following you into your room to watch you sleep. You were so goddamn beautiful, he could sit and stare at you for hours and never be bored. And just like that Joel’s misery morphed into joy.

One night after a particularly busy shift in the Tipsy Bison, you headed straight for your bedroom once you finally made it home, stripping your clothes and pulling on the oversized t-shirt you wore to sleep. Joel was devastated to be robbed of his nightly relief, and also a little angry. He needed it, you were being incredibly selfish he thought, seemingly forgetting that you were not in fact willingly sharing your body with him, as if you had any idea at all of his presence.

He paced backwards and forwards at the foot of your bed, all pent up rage and frustration when you released a breathy moan, stopping him in his tracks. His head snapped towards you, lying on the bed, your legs bent at the knees and spread wide, your middle finger drawing light little circles on your clit. “That’s more like it,” he thought, his cock jumping to attention. He positioned himself right between your legs, hand around his cock. He watched every move you made, committing to memory all the things you liked, the movements that made you gasp and moan as he pumped up and down his cock. He watched as you teased yourself, building up speed and pressure before backing off and slowing down. You did this a couple of times before sliding your fingers down to your leaking pussy, rubbing faintly over your lips before plunging two fingers in deep. Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you as you began to pump them in and out releasing small whimpers when you let your thumb catch your clit with every inward stroke.

“You’re doing so good for me baby, keep going,” he growled at you, desperate to see what you look like when you come. “My fingers would feel so much better in there honey, I wish I could show you.” He could tell you were getting close as your breathing grew ragged and your moans grew louder. He tugged his cock in a frenzy, wanting to finish with you.

Your hips bucked off the bed and you let out a deep, long moan as your climax hit you. Joel was enthralled as he watched your body jerk and your cheeks flush, watched your slick, leaking hole clench around your fingers. With a final stroke of his cock he peaked, his cum landing over your pussy and hand before disappearing.

“Jesus baby, you’re incredible,” he praised as you slumped down on your bed, exhausted. You were asleep within seconds, forgetting even to turn off the bedside lamp.

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As the months passed Joel’s obsession with you only grew. He’d only noticed the summer ending and the changing weather through the change in your clothes. Summer dresses replaced with jeans and sweaters. Joel mourned for the warmer weather and the extra glimpses of your soft skin it afforded. Not that he didn’t get to see every inch of you every day but still. He only realised Halloween was approaching when you brought home a small pumpkin, scooped out the delicate flesh and carved the carcass into a jack-o-lantern to place on your front porch. You spent the rest of the evening sewing some triangles of stiff fabric onto a headband to look like cat ears.

Joel had always loved Halloween. It had been his favourite holiday in the before, always choosing him and Sarah matching costumes to take her trick or treating, plotting out a route beforehand to hit the houses with the best candy first. Returning home and dutifully rationing out some candy for her before stealing some of the best bits once she was finally asleep, only to be told off in the morning when she realised some of her stash was missing.

The next morning you dressed yourself in a black jumper dress, drew a little nose and some whiskers on your face and topped it off with your headband and a ribbon around your neck to act as a collar. Joel stood behind you as you appraised your outfit in the mirror, “prettiest kitty I ever saw honey,” he told you.

“Huh?!” You spun around to take in the empty room, sure you’d heard a faint whisper. But of course, the room was empty.

“Can you hear me honey?”

There it was again. You ducked your head out into the hallway but still couldn’t see anything. “Hello, is someone there?”

“Yes honey, it’s me.” Joel was shouting now, following you as you moved down the hall into the living room, desperate for you to hear him. Just as you entered the living room a blur of black plummeted in front of you making you scream and jump back, only to realise it was your next door neighbour’s cat Toby, jumping off the bookcase he’d clearly been sleeping on.

“Jesus Toby, you scared the shit out of me,” you huffed, bending to pick up the meowing cat, “how’d you get in here, did you follow me in last night? Naughty boy, lets get you home.”

You walked out the door, cat in your arms, the faint whispers of Joel’s bellowing drowned out by your own voice and Toby’s contented purrs. You walked next door and knocked, stroking and kissing Toby’s head while you waited for Joan to answer.

“Hello deary,” she greeted you cheerfully, “oh Toby, have you been causing trouble?”

“Ha well, other than scaring me half to death he’s been a perfect house guest. He musta followed me in last night, sorry Joan.”

“Maybe you just caught his attention in that get up,” she cackled.

“Oh God, I totally forgot,” you groaned, “everyone working the Bison today is getting dressed up, thought it would be fun you know?”

“Well you certainly look the part, it’s a great costume. I’ll maybe swing by to see what costume Seth has picked out,” she chuckled winking at you and taking a content Toby from your arms, “thanks for bringing him back deary, I’ll let you get on.”

“See you later.”

Joel followed you silently to the dining hall. He was sure you’d almost heard him back at the house but there was no way you’d hear him now, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the busy town. It was so strange, why now after all this time? Maybe all the nonsense about Halloween wasn’t such nonsense after all? Maybe the veil between the living and the dead really was weakest today. Lost in his thoughts trying to remember all the old wives tales he’d heard about Halloween, he didn’t realise you had stopped in line to get your breakfast and he walked through you. But whereas normally he passed through the living like he was nothing but air, today he felt…resistance. Like he was viscous and had to force himself through you. Turning around he watched you shudder and a crooked smile graced his face. Maybe today he could have some real fun.

As you ate your breakfast he experimented with the items on the table. As with when he passed through you, anytime he pushed his hand against an object he felt an unusual resistance but the items remained steadfastly and disappointingly still on the table. But he refused to give up. And it’s not like he had much else pencilled in for today so he heaved a sigh and kept trying.

Once you were done he followed you like a faithful dog over to the Tipsy Bison. Letting yourself in you got to work straight away, hanging decorations round the walls of the bar, strings of paper spider webs and little bats and pumpkins that the kids in school had been making all week. Joel positioned himself at the end of the bar, watching you work as he half-heartedly tried to push the glass in front of him onto the floor.

Just as you finished you knocked the bag that had contained the decorations onto the floor, torn fragments of paper spilling from it and littering the floor like confetti.

“Ah crap,” you muttered to yourself, disappearing behind the bar for a moment reappearing with a dustpan and brush. You bent from your waist and vigorously started sweeping up the mess giving Joel a perfect view of your tits bouncing in your low cut dress. His dick twitched and the glass he’d been swatting at for the last half an hour sailed off the bar and smashed into the wall opposite.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard it smash. Trying to calm your breathing you wandered over to look at the broken glass now littering the floor, glancing around uneasily. Joel followed suit, in shock at what had just happened. “Fuck yeah baby, that’s what I’m talking about!” he yelled out causing you to jump once again, spinning round and once again being confronted by an empty space.

“He-hello. Who’s there?” you called out, backing your way behind the bar and retrieving the baseball bat Seth kept hidden there for in case folks got too rowdy. You circled the entire room, checking the toilets and the back room only to find them empty. You wandered back into the bar, bat still in hand but now hanging by your side.

“Oh honey, I ain’t gonna hurt you sweet thing,” Joel whispered right in your ear just as the bar door burst open and you swung the bat wildly in that direction.

“Jesus, what the fuck?!” Alex yelped, barely jumping back from the violently swinging bat, her witches hat falling from her head.

“God Alex I’m so sorry, something really fucking weird is happening. The glass flew off the bar and smashed and I’ve been hearing this whispering all day and I got this really weird feeling in the dining hall this morning…” you babbled out almost incoherently.

She considered you for a moment and then a smile broke out over her face, “you almost had me there for a second,” she giggled, “I admire your dedication to the bit, very convincing, you really do look terrified. Did Seth put you up to this?” She moved over to the bar and began getting organised.

“Alex I’m serious, something weird is going on.”

“Yeah ok, ok, look, I’ll tell Seth I believed you, that you gave me a good scare. I know how seriously he takes his pranks. I won’t let on that I figured you out straight away.”

“Alex…”

“You should probably clean that glass up, people will be coming in soon and we don’t want people to get hurt.”

You heaved out a sigh and replaced the bat behind the bar. She wasn’t going to believe you. And if you were honest with yourself, if someone had told you those same things you too would have taken it for nothing but a Halloween prank. Or that the person was crazy. You tried to put it out of your mind and got on with cleaning up.

Joel was brimming with joy. Oh he was going to have so much fun today. He kept practicing moving objects. More carefully now, not aiming to draw attention to himself again just yet. He pushed pictures slightly askew around the room, shuffled beer mats slightly around tables. All little controlled movements. It got easier each time. Like muscle memory building. Brimming with confidence he sidled up behind you as you cleaned a table, reaching his hand around you he hovered for a second before scooping your tit in his hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

Your yelp of surprise mixed with his groan of pleasure in his ears, he was fit to combust. Yanking his pants down he jerked off in the middle of the Tipsy Bison, coming embarrassingly quickly at the memory of the way your flesh had given under his hand, so soft and yielding. Fucking flawless.

Lost in his own little bubble he only caught the end of Alex admonishing you for continuing with the prank before turning to open the doors of the bar. Joel felt a wave of guilt as he took in your clearly overwrought appearance, your bottom lip trapped between your bottom teeth, swollen and raw from being chewed, your hands trembling as you gathered your cleaning materials and hurried behind the bar. He didn’t want to scare you. He wanted to make you feel good. He just hadn’t been able to help himself, finally able to make physical contact the draw of your sweet body had been too much for him. He had to have you and today might be his only chance. But he could back off for now. Give you a breather and allow you to settle your nerves. He couldn’t fuck you here after all. Still wasn’t entirely sure it would be possible at all but he was closer than he’d ever been. He’d waited all these long months, he could wait a few more hours.

So he kept the hijinks to a low level, continuing to practice moving items when no one was watching. He stayed in the bar and as it got busier you seemed to settle, your mind occupied with the regular hum-drum of your daily routine. You definitely seemed less on edge now that the strange occurrences seemed to have stopped.

Joel noticed as the day went on that he felt better and better. Stronger, invigorated. Moving items now came to him with ease, he was more and more convinced that tonight he’d get to have you. Finally. He felt giddy at the notion. So by the time the end of your shift rolled around he was impatient in his eagerness, shouldering people out of his way as he followed you towards the door, the bar busy enough that no one batted an eyelid at the jostling he caused.

“You’re not staying for a drink?” Alex asked as she spotted you heading out.

“I don’t know, it’s been a weird day. I might have a nap and see how I feel later.”

Alex rolled her eyes at you, “whatever grandma, enjoy your nap.”

Once you made it home you ran up the porch steps and hurriedly locked the door behind you, unable to shake the uneasiness you had felt since the morning. You checked every room, every cupboard, under the bed, every potential hiding place. Nothing seemed out of place. You listened, straining your ears to hear something. Joel watched the entire thing with a smirk on his face, staying resolutely quiet so as not to alarm you. Finally confident that you were alone you headed to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Joel was fit to burst. But he didn’t want to take you in the shower, he wanted you in your bed, comfortable, where he could worship you for hours. So for now he contented himself with once again stroking himself to completion as he admired you.

Shower finished you headed for your bedroom wrapped in a towel. This was it, finally. Joel came up behind you and skimmed his lips along your neck. You yelped and spun round, to be confronted once again with an empty room. Tears gathered on your waterline, fear finally getting the better of your frayed nerves.

“Wh-whose th-there,” you stammered out.

That faint whispering caught your ears again. Slightly clearer than this morning. It sounded like laughing. A chill ran down your spine just as your towel was ripped from you and you were propelled backwards onto the bed.

Joel was hard as a rock as he looked at you splayed out on the bed, whimpering. He felt bad for scaring you but not bad enough to stop. He had to have you, he’d make it up to you. You’d calm down after a few orgasms, after he showed you how good he could make you feel.

He manhandled you on the bed so your head was lying on the pillows. Spreading your legs he kneaded and massaged the meat of your thighs as he admired your pretty little pussy up close.

“Stop, please stop,” you sobbed out. Joel gave one last devilish smirk before diving in, his flattened tongue running the full length of your folds before starting to flick at your clit. You couldn’t hold back the moan as Joel worked your little bud, your back arching as he sucked it into his mouth. Joel’s cock began to throb at the sight and sound of your pleasure. You writhed and wriggled and tried to pull away but Joel held you firmly in place, his arms clamped tight around your thighs.

His tongue left your clit and was immediately replaced with his thumb, rubbing small circles like he’d watched you do so many times. His tongue worked down through your folds back to your little hole which was now starting to glisten with the beginnings of your arousal. He plunged it inside of you, working it around your walls. Joel was elated to find he could taste you, sweet and tangy, albeit somewhat muted. After so long of not tasting anything it was heavenly, but how he wished he’d got to do this with his living tongue. Experience you fully.

He increased the pressure on your clit, before fucking you with his tongue at a desperate pace. You climaxed so beautifully for him, screaming out your peak while your body shuddered and slick gushed into his waiting mouth.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he climbed up your body, placing wet kisses over your mound and belly up to your heaving tits. Gathering the beautiful mounds in his hands he squeezed, revelling in their softness, the pliant feel of them in his hands. Groaning at finally getting his hands on them he sucked one nipple into his mouth, licking and grazing with his teeth as he pinched and rubbed the other with his forefinger and thumb before swapping sides and repeating the motions.

You moaned between sobs, fighting hard against the arousal that was being forced onto you. You were confused and terrified but your treacherous body was enjoying the sensations being showered upon you, arousal seeping out of your pussy and soaking your folds.

Still attached to your tit with his mouth, Joel’s hand stroked back down your body, grazing over your sensitive clit before moving down and circling your entrance.

“No, please no,” you begged, unable to see who or what was attacking you, all you felt was an impending intrusion, your fear spiking as you were breached. Your breathing hitched at the stretch, another uncontrollable moan escaping from your throat.

“There we go,” he mumbled around a mouthful of breast, “told you my fingers would feel good in there.” That faint whispering driving you crazy, just on the verge of being intelligible.

He pumped two fingers in and out before adding a hooking motion, searching for the spot that would have you seeing stars. You keened when he finally located it, your full body jerking at the sensation. No one had ever hit it before and you were reeling at how good it felt, your fear momentarily forgotten as all you could focus on was the pleasure radiating from your stimulated G Spot. Joel built up the speed of his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot every time. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your vision going white as your cunt clenched around Joel’s fingers, wave after wave of pleasure surging through you.

“That’s it honey, good girl. Oh that was a big one wasn’t it, you’re doing so good for me sweet girl.” He continued to finger you through your high, only removing his digits when he felt you go limp underneath him. He peppered your face with kisses as he positioned himself for the main event.

Taking his cock in his hands he notched it at your entrance and immediately pushed himself inside you with one decisive thrust. You screamed, the stretch and burn almost unbearable, even after two orgasms. You once again tried to wrestle and wriggle your way free but Joel lay atop you fully, trapping you underneath him. He didn’t move, giving you a chance to adjust to him. He was a lot to take and he remembered how small your little hole had looked compared to his cock on that first day.

As your pussy began to accept the intrusion and your muscles began to relax around him the fight left you. Exhausted and spent you stopped struggling and lay submissively underneath whatever you were being violated by, your now silent tears trickling down your face.

In an attempt to soothe you Joel pressed soft kisses onto your temple and hair as he began rocking his hips gently. You felt so fucking good, the velvet walls of your tight pussy sucking him in and gripping his cock deliciously. He groaned out as he began to increase the pace and intensity of his thrusts, mesmerised by the bounce of your tits each time he plunged himself inside of you.

“Feel so good honey, I knew you would, so fucking good, ohhhhh.” He hooked his arm under your knee, pushing it up to your chest to open you up further, letting him sink deeper inside. By now his pace was punishing, pounding into you and angling his hips to hit that special spot again and again. You were going to come on his cock. He had to know how it felt, sure it would better than any imagining his brain could conjure. He knew you were close, could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around him. Reaching a hand between you he once again found your clit, rubbing over it and drawing a moan from you. It wasn’t long until you were screaming for him again, your pussy clenching so good around him it sent him over the edge, pulsing with ecstasy as he came inside you with a roar of deep satisfaction.

Exhausted by your ordeal you were asleep before Joel pulled out of you. He stood off the bed and ran his gaze lustfully over you. He checked the clock next to your bed. Only 7pm. 5 hours of Halloween left. He smirked as he turned back to your sleeping form. He’d give you a little respite but he wasn’t done with you yet. It turned out Halloween was still his favourite holiday.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Jamie’s Halloween Writing Challenge #dark!joel miller

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