#it's my way to show you that i think about you and send you my love🌷

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[muwapsturniolo]

Nipple or Tip ( • )( • ) C. Sturniolo

"I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks-"

⟢ funny shit tbh. nipples and tips of dick are mentioned as well as balls. chris being unhinged in ulta, reader done with his bs but also down with his bs.

dividers by the one and only rose toy @bernardsbendystraws

You were a beauty lover, it was well known by everyone in your life. When you were a kid, you were constantly in your moms makeup bag, messing up her high-priced lipsticks and eyeshadows on a daily basis.

As you got older, that love for makeup stayed.

You had a whole beauty room in your two-bedroom apartment. You had the vanity, the box lights as well as ring lights, and drawers on top of drawers filled with makeup you may not even have a chance to touch.

Chris knew of your love for makeup, he has been in you're beauty room one too many times to think otherwise. He never saw it as too much because he knew it was your way of expressing yourself - he was never the one to hate on expression.

So here he was, driving you to the place he should just invest in at this point.

Ulta.

You spent so much time there, that the workers recognize you. You have the credit card, you've racked up points, and you memorized the aisles. This was basically your third home, the first being your own and the second being Chris's.

"Alright, what do you need today?"

You proceed to go through your list as you walk inside the bright store, the sound of Billie's "Birds of a Feather" playing over the speakers. The song distracts him for a moment, but he comes back to reality hearing you say foundation.

"Wait, didn't you just get a new foundation?"

"Well...Yes, but I need another one!" He gives you a look as the two of you walk over to Wyn Beauty. "Technically, you don't need another one. You have about forty of them, but who am I to complain considering you're paying?"

It's comical to him the way you stop in your tracks, your eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean I'm paying? It's your turn to pay!"

Chris chuckles to himself, fixing the beanie on his head. "I'm just pulling your clit."

"Chris please stop fuckin' talking to me. That's not even how the damn saying goes!"

He giggles like a schoolboy and kisses your shoulder, motioning to the bright green packaging in front of you. "Go ahead and pick out your millionth foundation."

And so you do, you pick out a new foundation...and concealer, primer, setting spray, bronzer, lip gloss, and lipstick.

"Ok, now a lip liner." Your words spark Chris's interest, his mind going back to a specific video he saw not too long ago. The two of you start walking over to NYX, and he decides to fill you in on the content he consumed.

"So like, I saw this makeup video on tik- Why are you getting makeup videos on TikTok? What girl are you sending them to?"

"I'm getting them because of you, dumbass. You're the only girl that actually puts up with me, why would I talk to another one?" You snicker to yourself knowing he's right.

He's too in love with you to go find someone else.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I saw this video on TikTok where this girl was trying out these makeup hacks or secrets, whatever it's called. So she said the best way to match your lip liner is to match it to your nipples! Crazy shit, but it has me thinking, what if you matched it to the tip of my dick?"

All you could do was stare at him in silence.

"You being deadass?"

He shrugs before answering you, a smirk that shows he's up to no good making its way onto his face. "I mean, I think it would look nice on you. A nice pinky red....It's up your alley anyway considering you have a blush named 'orgasm' and a mascara called 'better than sex' ."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?" He groans and pulls you closer, his hands settling right on top of your ass. "Come on it would be funny! I will literally give you my card and let you roam in TJ Maxx and I will take you to Chili's!''

"You had me at TJ Maxx."

You whip your phone out, thanking yourself for buying a privacy screen, and begin scrolling through your privet photo albums to find a picture of Chris's dick.

"Wait, you should match one to your nipples too. Then we can compare which one looks better."

He could be so childish at times, but you were the exact same.

The two of you stand in the aisle, holding up different shades of pink and brown to your phone. Eventually, you two settle on "Rose" and "Nutmeg", the two colors being the closest you could get.

Soon the two of you are back in the car and Chris is urging you to try on both lip liners, refusing to drive until he sees them on you. You first try on the brown shade, lining your lips with ease. It was a pretty color, simple and not unusual considering you always wore brown lipliner.

You turn to Chris, asking him what he thinks. "Sexy as usual. You know I like it when you do the brown ones." You smile at his flattering words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before wiping the lip liner off. You unravel the pink liner and swipe it on, rubbing your lips together so it blends out.

"So what do we think? Nipple or tip?"

You see the way his eyes dart across your face, analyzing everything about you.

"Both look good, you know you can make everything look good. It's what I love about you." You find your cheeks getting warm, never getting used to the way he makes you feel so good, even on days when you look like a bum.

"Come on, I promised to let you roam in TJ Maxx." He puts the car in reverse and begins driving towards the retail store. The drive is quiet for the most part, nothing but music and the occasional small talk. As soon as the two of you make it to TJ Maxx, Chris turns to you before getting out of the car.

"You know, I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks where this girl put her foundation on with her boyfriend's balls."

"This the last time imma tell you to shut up talkin' to me!"

[00valentina-writes00]

Hi, can you do one of ambessa x female reader? where it's their honeymoon and the reader confesses that she's a virgin

So ambessa tries to be as gentle as possible (as if the female reader were a porcelain doll) so that her first time is unforgettable. (Ambessa use hexstrap)

Content NFSW Please

By the way, I love and adore your content, I hope you keep making more content ❤️❤️❤️ so have a nice night/afternoon/day? ☺️

♡♥︎ Claimed by the Lioness ♥︎♡

warnings: dom!Ambessa, strap-on use, first time, pain and pleasure, loss of virginity, gentle domming

The door creaks open, and Ambessa strides in, her presence filling the room like a storm rolling in over the horizon. You sit on the edge of the bed, your silk robe pooling around you, the fabric soft but no match for the nervous tremor in your fingers. This is it, you think. Your first time. You’ve waited for this, waited for her, and now she’s here, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You look… exquisite,” Ambessa says, her voice low and rich, like a warm brandy. She steps closer, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Her armor is gone, replaced by something softer—a tailored tunic that clings to her muscular frame, the fabric stretched tight over her broad shoulders and strong arms. She’s still every bit the Iron Lioness, but tonight, there’s a gentleness in her movements, a carefulness that surprises you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You feel like a trembling bird in the shadow of a lion, and yet, you’re not afraid. Not really. There’s something in the way she looks at you, something that makes you feel small and precious, like a treasure she’s about to claim.

She kneels in front of you, her calloused hands resting on your knees. Her touch is firm but not demanding, grounding you in the moment. “You’ve never done this before,” she says, not a question but a statement. You nod, your cheeks burning. “I wanted to wait… for the right person.”

Her lips curve into a small smile, one that softens the sharp edges of her face. “And I’m that person?” she asks, her tone teasing but laced with something deeper—something that sounds almost like pride.

“Yes,” you say, your voice steady for the first time. “You are.”

Ambessa’s hands slide up your thighs, the heat of her palms searing through the thin silk of your robe. “Then let me show you,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet, “just how carefully I can unwrap my most prized possession.”

Your breath catches as she unties the robe’s sash, her movements slow and deliberate. The fabric falls open, revealing your bare skin to the cool air, and you shiver—not from the cold, but from the way her gaze sweeps over you, taking in every inch of your body. Her hands follow her eyes, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your hips, the soft swell of your breasts. Her touch is reverent, almost worshipful, and it makes your heart pound in your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, her voice thick with something you can’t quite name. “Perfect.”

You flush, the praise warming you from the inside out. “Ambessa…”

Her hands still, and she looks up at you, her dark eyes searching your face. “Are you nervous?” she asks, her tone gentle.

“A little,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never… I don’t know what to do.”

Ambessa’s lips curve into a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to do anything,” she says. “Just let me take care of you.”

Her words soothe something inside you, and you nod, your body relaxing under her touch. She rises to her feet, her towering frame casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, you feel small—vulnerable. But then she reaches for the bedside table, her movements confident, and pulls out a strap-on. The sight of it sends a jolt of heat through you, and your knees instinctively press together, your body unsure whether to shy away or lean into the thrill.

Ambessa notices, of course. She always does. “It’s all right,” she says, her voice low and soothing as she buckles the harness around her hips. The dildo sits snug against her, the length and girth intimidating but not unwelcome. “I’ll be gentle,” she promises, her eyes meeting yours. “I’ll make this good for you.”

You believe her. You have to believe her, because the alternative—that this could be anything less than perfect—is unthinkable. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling only slightly.

Ambessa steps closer, her hands returning to your knees, and parts them with gentle but firm pressure. You let her, your breath hitching as she positions herself between your legs, the tip of the strap-on brushing against your entrance. You’re already wet—so wet—but the unfamiliar pressure makes you tense, your body instinctively resisting.

“Relax,” Ambessa murmurs, her voice a low purr. “Just relax, sweet one. Let me take care of you.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the sound of her voice, the warmth of her hands on your thighs. Slowly, your body eases, and Ambessa takes the opportunity to press forward, the tip of the dildo sliding into you inch by excruciating inch. It’s strange, the stretch, the fullness, but it’s not unpleasant. And then—

You gasp, your eyes flying open as you feel it—the slight resistance, the sharp pinch of pain as your hymen breaks. Tears spring to your eyes, and Ambessa stills, her hands tightening on your thighs as she looks down at you, her expression concerned. “Are you all right?” she asks, her voice soft.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice shaking. “It just… hurt a little.”

Ambessa’s lips press into a thin line, and she leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I’ll be more careful.”

She pulls back slightly, and then, with agonizing slowness, she pushes forward again, the dildo sliding deeper into you. This time, though, there’s no pain, only a strange pleasure that curls in the pit of your stomach and spreads through your limbs like liquid heat. Your breath catches, and you grip the sheets, your body instinctively arching toward her.

Ambessa notices, of course. She always does. “That’s it,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Let me make you feel good.”

Her hips begin to move, slow and steady, the rhythm almost hypnotic. The dildo fills you, stretches you, but it’s not overwhelming—it’s perfect, like she’s been made just for you. Your hands find her shoulders, clinging to her as she fucks you, her thrusts gentle but insistent, each one sending a wave of pleasure crashing through you.

“Ambessa,” you gasp, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. “I—I’ve never felt like this.”

Her lips curve into a smile, and she leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s as fierce as it is tender. “Good,” she murmurs against your lips. “Because you’re mine now. And I’m going to make sure you never forget that.”

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about “living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[scented-morker]

Remember?

Shoutout to kiki for requesting from my Romance Untold event!! I love you mootie, I hope you like this!! exes to ?, Jake x fem!reader, 990 words, fluff.

Your friendgroup decideds to celebrate Valentine’s Day together. The only problem? You’re friends with your ex. And he doesn’t know how to act like he’s not in love with you.

Being friends with your ex was no big deal, really.

A small part of you liked to think it was the pinky promise you'd forced Jake to agree to the minute he asked you out romantically. "No matter what happens, we stay friends."

However, another, more honest part of you knew that even after a break up, Jake was just not the kind of person you could stay away from.

Which is how you ended up in this situation in the first place, a tray of heart shaped cookies in one hand, and a gift bag dangling from your fingers.

Spending Valentines Day with your friends was a much better option than spending it on the couch with a tub of ice cream mourning your newfound singleness. Now you just have to make it through a couple hours without accidentally falling back in love with Jake, no biggie.

"Yn!!" Sunoo cheers as soon as you enter the apartment, taking the tray out of your hands so you can shrug off your coat.

“About time you got here,” Sakura calls from the dining room.

A familiar voice comes next, and you hate the way your heart still reacts to it.

“You’d think after all these years you’d know yn is gonna show up fifteen minutes after what you tell her.”

You cross the threshold after kicking your shoes off, and snatch a throw pillow off Jays couch to toss at Jake.

“Easy girl,” he laughs, snatching it out of the air before it hits square in his face.

You roll your eyes and head through the living room towards the dining room where Sunoo has now set your cookies on the table with the rest of the treats your friends brought.

You greet Chaewon with a hug while she tells you about her work shift that morning.

Jay calls out for help setting the table, and the next thing you know the six of you are sat around the dining table, dishes littering the space in front of you.

A pan with steaks is being passed around, and you stare at them when it gets to you. It makes sense that Jay chose the fancy meat for the occasion, and you felt bad about how picky you were, knowing you probably wouldn’t eat most of it after cutting.

“That one’s for you,” Jake supplies helpfully from his seat next to you, picking up the tongs to grab one of the peices from the side and putting it on your plate.

He makes no further comment as he continues passing the tray.

However, once the conversation has started back up, he slides your plate closer to his own and reaches out with his knife.

“I told Jay you liked yours well done. I know you get freaked because you’re convinced it’s bleeding when you cut into it otherwise.” He says it with an airy laugh, not a care in the world as he cuts your steak into bite sized pieces.

When he’s done, he holds a piece up to your face, letting you get a look at it, cooked exactly the way you like.

You have to restrain yourself from kissing him right then and there, the fondness in his eyes and actions sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Thank you, Jake.”

He grins at you for a moment too long, his eyes boring into yours until Jay calls his name.

When you finally drag your own away from his figure, you’re met with a teasing look on Chaewon’s face.

You give her an impolite hand gesture before happily eating the rest of your meal, ignoring the way Jake’s knee bumps into yours under the table.

Soon enough, you’re spread out on the floor of the living room with a gift bag from a randomly assigned friend in front of each of you.

Everyone starts going through their bags, yelling and showing the person next to them in excitement.

From your spot on the floor, you don’t notice Jake on the couch behind you setting his bag next to him and opting to watch as you pull on pink tissue paper.

Inside is the newly released book you needed to finish your series, your favorite scent of perfume, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, and a sunflower Lego set.

Your head immediately whips towards Jake, finding him already looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

The legos were the exact set you helped him build after your first date, when you’d gone back to his apartment after dinner and slipped into one of his flannels while he dumped the pieces all over his bed.

You reason that a hug is reasonable considering he just got you an extremely thoughtful gift, but all thoughts of justifying it to your friends disappear as soon as Jake’s arms are around you.

You lean your head into his neck, his familiar cologne surrounding you as his hands run up and down your back.

“Thank you,” you mumble into him.

“You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like? Please, give me a little credit.”

You let out a laugh, and Jake’s skin erupts into goosebumps at the feeling.

When you finally pull away from the hug, you get hit in the face with a ball of tissue paper, and you turn to find everyone staring at the two of you.

“Ok can you open the gift that I so carefully picked out for you now?” Jay asks, and Jake finally focuses on his own gift.

His left hand falls onto your shoulder as you sit back down on the floor in front of him, and you don’t make any attempt to move it.

When he gives Jay a hug for his gift, Sakura leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Why’d you two break up again?”

You flush red and swat at her, but as Jake’s hand returns to its spot on your shoulder you find yourself wondering the same thing.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

࿐ ᧔♡᧓ . MYDEI’S DIGITAL LOVE ?!!?!

꒰୨୧꒱ Paring : famous streamer Mydei x big-fan chubby fem!reader

꒰୨୧꒱ Warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, internet sex, fingering (yourself), hand-job (he does it to himself), recording/video taping, orgasm control/denial & holding orgasm, dirty talk & degradation, praise kink, exhibitionism (light), mutual masturbation, voice kink, overstimulation, commanding behaviour, size-kink?, Mydei is teasing, reader is shy. (＃＞＜)

꒰୨୧꒱ Summary : You’ve been Mydei’s biggest fan for months, but you never expected him to notice you—until tonight. Out of nowhere, he finally responds to your message you sent him for 3 years, “Let’s talk to camera. ;)” and before you know it, you're face-to-face on a video call with your favorite streamer. His teasing starts instantly, rough voice making you squirm as he pushes you further, watching your every move. What starts as a simple chat turns into something far more sinful—you’re not just another fan tonight, you’re his. (Morden au)

꒰୨୧꒱ Extra : special post since it’s my birthday :3 feb 10th! Also Special post for : @jadestone2 , oh and also you guys are having cybers*x on discord. 😪 This is short btw.

Your heart nearly stops when the notification pops up ;

Mydei69: Let’s talk in camera ;)

Your breath catches in your throat. No way. No way. It’s been four months since you sent that message—three months of watching his streams, liking his posts, replaying clips where his rough, teasing voice made your stomach twist in knots. You never expected him to respond.

Your fingers tremble as you scramble to accept the call, your screen flashing before his face appears—smug, gorgeous, and effortlessly cocky. His eyes flick over you, and the slow smirk that spreads across his lips makes you want to shrink into yourself.

“Damn,” he drawls, voice low and rough. “Didn’t think my biggest fan would be so shy.” Your stomach flips at the way he says it—slow, taunting, like he’s savoring your reaction. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Mydei chuckles, leaning back in his chair, the dim glow of his setup casting sharp shadows over his sharp features.

"Cat got your tongue?" he muses, tilting his head. "Or are you just that nervous to be on cam with me?" You shake your head quickly, heat creeping up your neck. "N-No, I just… I wasn’t expecting you to—"

"Finally respond?" He cuts you off with an amused scoff. "Yeah, I know. Took my time, didn’t I?" His eyes flicker across your screen, studying you. "But you were patient. And now you’ve got me all to yourself." The weight of those words settles in your stomach, heavy and thrilling. It’s just you and him. No chaotic chat, no thousands of watching eyes—just his gaze locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

"Let’s make it worth the wait, yeah?" His voice drops lower, and he leans in, elbows resting on his desk. "Show me how much of a fan you really are."

Your breath hitches. The way he’s looking at you—like he already knows how this is going to go, like he’s expecting you to fall right into his hands—makes your body feel hot all over. "I—I don’t know what you mean," you stammer, even though you do.

Mydei chuckles, shaking his head. "C’mon, don’t play dumb," he says, voice dripping with amusement. "You’ve been watching me for how long? Sending me messages, calling yourself my biggest fan…" He pauses, eyes dark with something unreadable. "So prove it."

You swallow hard, your hands gripping the hem of your shirt. The tension between you is thick, crackling through the screen like a live wire. "What… what do you want me to do?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. Mydei’s grin widens, predatory. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair, looking like he’s about to enjoy every second of this. "Let’s start simple. Take that off for me."

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You hesitate for only a moment—long enough for Mydei to chuckle again, this time lower, rougher. "Shy thing like you needs a little push, huh?" he muses, eyes locked onto you. "Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you."

Your hands tremble as you grip the hem of your shirt, hesitating just a moment too long. Mydei notices, of course—he notices everything.

"Need me to count down for you?" he teases, cocking his head. "Or do you just like making me wait?" Your breath shudders as you finally pull your shirt over your head, exposing the soft lace of your bra. It’s cute—delicate, pastel-colored, something you picked out on a whim without ever imagining someone like him would see it.

Mydei exhales sharply, his smirk deepening. "Damn," he mutters, his gaze raking over you through the screen. "Didn’t take you for the cute type." He leans in slightly, his voice dipping into something darker. "But I like it. Suits you."

Your face burns at the compliment, at the way he’s staring like he wants to see more. "Go on," he urges, voice smooth and coaxing. "Show me just how much of a good girl you can be." You shift under his gaze, fingers twitching at your sides. The way he's looking at you so intense, so hungry-makes your whole body feel warm, like you're burning up from the inside out.

"You shy now?" Mydei taunts, his voice a perfect mix of amusement and something darker. "Thought you were my biggest fan." You bite your lip, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he's teasing you. He knows exactly what he's doing, and worse-you know it's working. Slowly, you reach behind your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Your full tits revealing, as your cheeks began to redden. The moment it loosens, you hear Mydei inhale softly, his eyes glued to your every movement.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice rougher now. "Knew you'd be cute under all that." He leans in, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you, completely enthralled. "Bet you've been dreaming about this, huh? Showing off for me. Letting me see you like this." You swallow hard, nodding hesitantly. He grins. "Good girl. Now, let's see how well you listen."

You can’t breathe. Or maybe you’re breathing too hard—your chest rising and falling under his gaze, heat flooding every inch of your skin. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re something worth watching, sends a shiver down your spine.

"That’s it," Mydei murmurs, his voice smoother now, almost like he’s soothing you. But there’s an edge to it, too—something sharp, something dangerous. "Knew you’d be good for me." Your thighs press together at his words, and of course, he notices. His smirk stretches wider, eyes dark with amusement.

"Cute and needy?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You really are my biggest fan, huh?" You nod without thinking, your face burning. "Good," he says, his voice dropping lower. "Then keep going. I wanna see just how much you can take for me."

Mydei's eyes flick downward, to the camera and you realize—too late—that he's caught you. His smirk sharpens. "Rubbing those thighs together like that," he muses, voice laced with amusement. "You that needy already?" Your breath stutters. You try to stop, but it's impossible-the heat pooling between your legs is too much, the way he's watching you is too much.

He chuckles, low and knowing, "C'mon, baby," he purrs. "Go ahead. Put those pretty fingers to work for me," Your stomach tightens at the command. "Let me see how much of a mess you can make," he adds, his voice thick with anticipation. "Bet you're already soaked for me, huh?"

Your breath comes out shaky, your whole body burning under his gaze. He's not even here, but the way he speaks-like he already owns you, like he knows what you're feeling-has you completely at his mercy.

Slowly, hesitantly, your hand drifts down, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. The moment your fingers brush against yourself, you gasp—you're already embarrassingly wet, just like he said. Mydei groans softly, eyes glued to the screen. "Knew it," he mutters, voice thick with approval. "So fucking predictable." Your cheeks burn, but the humiliation only makes the ache between your legs worse. "Don't be shy now," he coaxes. "Let me see how pretty you look when you touch yourself for me."

Your breath shudders as your fingers move, the warmth of your own touch making you squirm. Mydei watches through the screen, his sharp eyes locked onto you, his expression shifting into something darker—something possessive. Your other had gripped on your right tit squeezing it gently as you teased your clit. Imagining it was Mydei’s fingers and hands, teasing you.

"That's it, he murmurs, voice lower now, almost approving. "Nice and slow. I want to see everything." He smirked, he pulled down his own pants, as he groaned softly looking at his length that was already leaking with cum. You bite your lip, overwhelmed by the way he's watching you, and stroking himself with his cock. The heat in his gaze making you feel exposed in the best way possible. You've imagined moments like this before, but nothing compares to the real thing—nothing compares to him actually being here, whispering to you, praising you.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he muses, tilting his head. "Bet it feels even better knowing I'm watching." You nod, your voice caught somewhere in your throat. Mydei chuckles, leaning in just slightly, his smirk deepening. While watching you through the camera. His hand gripping on his dick, as he let out a grunted moan. "G-Good girl," he murmurs. "Keep going. Let me hear you."

You moaned softly, dipping on of your fingers in your tight passage. Velvety walls wrapping around your fingers. As Mydei moaned out loud, "Fuck yeah…just like that." He groaned, as his thumb teased the tip of his cock. Imagining that the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

"G—Gonna cum…" you announced, Mydei’s lidded eyes snapped wide open as he sneered. "Fuck no, baby. I don’t think so. Hold it for me and show me you’re a real fan of mine."

Your whole body tenses at his words, a desperate whimper slipping past your lips. Holding back feels impossible—you’re already trembling, already so close—but the look on Mydei’s face tells you he expects you to obey. "Don’t give me that," he huffs, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. He’s watching you with half-lidded eyes, his jaw tight, his breaths heavier than before. "Real fans know how to listen." You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back the pleasure building inside you, but it only makes it worse. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back the pleasure building inside you, but it only makes it worse. Mydei notices immediately, his smirk sharp and teasing.

"Struggling, baby?" he taunts, his pace on himself picking up slightly. "That desperate to let go?" You nod frantically, your thighs trembling. He groans lowly, tilting his head back for a brief second before locking eyes with you again. "Fuck—you look so cute when you're holding back for me." His voice is rough now, edged with hunger. "Think you can last a little longer? Be a good girl and wait for me?"

Your entire body is shaking, every muscle tensed as you fight against the overwhelming pleasure surging through you. Mydei's voice is all you can focus on-rough, teasing, controlling. "I-I don't know if I can," you whimper, your voice coming out weak, breathless. His eyes darken, hand still working himself at an unhurried pace. "You can," he corrects, his tone firm but laced with amusement. "You will. Don't tell me my biggest fan is about to let me down."

You shake your head frantically, desperate to prove him wrong. "N—No, I-I wanna be good for you" vou stammer, your voice barely above a whine. That earns you a low, satisfied groan. "That's my girl," he praises, his strokes becoming just a little faster, his breathing heavier. "Hold it a little longer for me, baby. Just a little more."

Your whole body is on fire, every nerve stretched to its limit as you fight to hold back, just like he told you. Mydei watches you intently, his hand moving faster, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, his voice rougher now, strained with pleasure. "Shaking so bad for me... you really wanna cum, don't you?" You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Please," you beg, voice barely a whisper.

Mydei's breath shudders, his strokes turning almost desperate. "Shit—alright, baby," he rasps. "Cum for me. Now." The second he gives you permission, the pleasure crashes over you, white—hot and overwhelming. Your body trembles as you cry out, giving in completely, your mind hazy with nothing but bliss.

Mydei isn't far behind. His jaw clenches, his brows furrow, and with a deep, guttural groan, he spills over his hand, his body shuddering through his release. For a moment, the only sound between you is your uneven breathing. Mydei leans back, running a hand through his hair, his smirk returning as he watches you try to catch your breath. "Damn," he mutters, his voice still rough. "Best fan interaction I've ever had."

Your body is still trembling, aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you as you try to catch your breath. Mydei watches you with a lazy smirk, his chest still rising and falling from his own release. But then—his eyes darken again, that cocky glint returning as he tilts his head. "We're not done yet, baby," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. Your breath hitches, eyes widening slightly. "W-What?" He chuckles, sitting up straighter, his fingers still lazily stroking himself, already regaining his composure. "What kind of streamer would I be if I left my biggest fan unsatisfied?" His voice drops, rough and full of intent. "Now be good and spread those legs for me again."

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, your body still tingling from the intensity of your release. But Mydei isn't done—not even close. His dark eyes rake over you, his smirk softening just a little, but the hunger is still there. "You look so pretty like this," he murmurs, voice lower now, almost... tender. "Flushed, breathless, all for me." Your heart stutters at the way he says it—less like a tease, more like he means it.

"You really are my biggest fan, huh?" he muses, stroking himself lazily, watching the way your thighs twitch. "But I think." He trails off for a second, his expression shifting into something unreadable. "I think I might be your biggest fan now." The words send a different kind of heat through you, something deeper, something that lingers. Mydei chuckles when he sees the way you react, but there's no mocking edge to it this time—just warmth.

"Didn't think this would happen." he admits, his hand slowing, his gaze softening even as he stays locked onto you. "But fuck, baby... I don't think I can let you go now." Your breath shudders. "Mydei..." His smirk turns into something almost affectionate. "Yeah, baby," he murmurs, his eyes full of something deeper than lust, something real. "You're mine now. And I'm yours."

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[satellite-evans]

Hi! Could I please request a one shot where Harry is sick maybe during tour and his gf has to take care of him? Thank you! I love your writing!

a/n: thank you so much for liking my work, it truly means a lot! it's a little short but I still hope you'll like it <3

sick on tour

The hotel room is quiet except for the noise of the air conditioning and the occasional sniffle from the lump of blankets curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. The curtains are drawn, shielding the bright city lights outside from intruding on the peaceful, dimly lit space. Harry has always liked his hotel rooms cozy—candles on the nightstand, his favorite hoodie draped over the chair, and the softest pillows he could find. But tonight, none of it seems to bring him comfort.

You stand at the edge of the mattress, arms crossed, watching Harry sulk into his pillow. His curls are a mess, sticking to his slightly damp forehead, his nose a little pink from the fever, and yet—despite looking absolutely miserable—he’s still trying to convince you he’s fine.

“I can do the show,” he rasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, but the movement sends him into a fit of coughing. You sigh and press a hand to his chest, gently urging him back down.

“Baby, no. You can barely sit up.”

He frowns, brows knitting together like a petulant child. “S’just a little cold.”

“You have a fever, a sore throat, and you sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” you point out, smoothing your fingers over his clammy forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry grumbles something incoherent and burrows further into the pillows. You can tell he hates this—hates being taken care of, hates being seen as anything less than strong. But the thing is, to you, he’s always strong. Even now, curled up in a nest of tissues and blankets, he’s still the man you love more than anything.

Tour has been brutal on him lately. Night after night of performing, giving his all to the crowds that adore him, leaving every ounce of himself on that stage. He never complains—not about the exhaustion, not about the jet lag, not about the toll it takes on his body. But you see it in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one is looking, the way his voice is a little more raw each morning, the way he clings to you just a little tighter when he finally collapses into bed at the end of the night.

“I can’t cancel, though,” he whispers after a long moment, his voice laced with guilt. “They’ve probably spent so much money—flights, hotels, tickets, clothes and waited months just to see me. I can’t let them down, I just can't.”

You soften, understanding where his frustration is coming from. Harry has always carried the weight of his fans' happiness on his shoulders, always put them first. It’s one of the many reasons you love him—but right now, he needs to put himself first.

You take his hand in yours, rubbing slow, comforting circles over his knuckles. “Harry, sweetheart, I already spoke to Jeff. He and the team handled everything. They put out a statement, rescheduled the show, and made sure the fans know how much you care about them Not that they need a statement anyway. They know how much you love them.”

His brows furrow. “You—”

“I took care of it,” you interrupt gently. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? The fans love you, but they love you healthy and not sticky. You can’t give them the show they deserve if you push yourself too hard now. That is not what they deserve.”

Harry lets out a slow breath, his tense shoulders easing just a fraction. He still looks guilty, but there’s also relief in his tired eyes. “You really talked to Jeff?”

You nod. “Of course. Your health comes first, baby. Now please let me take care of you."

You slip out of the room quietly and return with a damp cloth, gently dabbing it against his forehead. The coolness makes him sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing under your touch. Then, you hold up a spoonful of honey-laced tea to his lips. He scrunches his nose but accepts it, swallowing with a soft grimace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice slightly clearer now.

You smile and brush your fingers over his cheek. “Of course, my love.”

After making sure he’s warm enough, you reach for the small bowl of soup on the nightstand that you kindly asked form the hotel staff. “Just a little, H. You need something in your stomach other than medicine.”

"The fans would've probably ask for me to sing medicine tonight but they can't because I need it. The irony." He said, trying to lighten the room up with a joke but cough wave that crushed him once again.

"Drink Harry." You said sternly.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows better. You lift the spoon to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and takes a bite. A small, content sigh escapes him, and you can’t help but grin.

“You’re good at this,” he mutters, sleep beginning to weigh heavy on him.

“I'm just good at loving you lovie,” you reply simply, brushing back his curls as he lets his eyes drift shut.

His fingers reach for yours under the blanket, giving them a weak squeeze. “Love you more.”

You sit beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his fever-warmed temple. “Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

And with the way he sighs, relaxing into your touch, you know he believes you.

Tomorrow, he’ll probably try to argue again. Try to tell you he feels fine, that he’s ready to get back out there, to put on another show. But for tonight, he’s yours to take care of. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

[rubyvhs]

show me love [ dean w. ]

SUMMARY . you and dean’s friendship (of both platonic and sexual nature) falls apart when his father goes missing TAGS . 0.7k words, cliffhanger, all texting, heavy angst LAILA’S NOTES . y’all I’d apologize but this is the first thing i’ve written in years so if anything we should be happy.

February 2003

Dean: Hey, sweetheart.

Still in Georgia?

You: Yeah, why? Are you thinking of passing by?

Dean: Something like that. 

I’ll be there in two days, maybe. 

You: That sounds great, D. Text me when you’re here.

+

August 2003

Dean: Look outside. 

You: You’re a real piece of work, you know that? 

Rocks at my windows was sexy a century ago.

Dean: Still worked though, didn’t it?

You: Yeah, asshole, I’m awake at three in the morning.

Dean: Does that mean you’re not gonna open the door?

You: Fuck you. I’m getting dressed.

Dean: No point, gonna take it all off anyway.

+

You: You left suddenly, didn’t know I was a one night stand, asshole.

Dean: Sorry, sweetheart, Sam called and I didn’t wanna wake you up. We can grab something to eat tonight, how’s that?

You: Is that a promise you actually plan on keeping?

Dean: Swear on my life.

You: I’ve seen it, ain't much to swear by.

Dean: Ouch.

You: Miss you, pick me up at seven.

Dean: See ya then, baby.

+

June 2005

Dean: Hey

You: Hi, D. Been a while.

Dean: Yeah, I’m sorry

You: It’s okay, I never expect much from us anyway. What’s up?

Dean: Do you think I’m a bad person?

You: No. Why would you say that?

Dean: I’m gonna ask Sam to come back, I can’t find dad.

You: Why didn’t you tell me? And it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I mean, I would advise against it, Sam deserves a good life and you know that, but the fact that you’re asking before doing it says everything I need to know.

Dean: What does it say?

You: That you have a pure heart, D. Don’t ever doubt it, okay? 

But also incase you were actually thinking of it, please don’t go get Sam. He’s out, he’s finally out of the life, Dean.

I text him every week and he’s happy and in love, don’t do it.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: Answer the phone.

Dean answer me.

Stop ignoring my calls

You suck

You: You’re still not a bad person.

+

August 2005

You: I will never forgive you.

Ever.

Dean: I didn’t know you’d be here.

You: Fuck you. You disappeared on me for months and stop answering my calls you fucking asshole and then I try talking to you and you walk away in front of everyone.

Do you understand how fucking humiliating that was for me? My sister’s asking if I’m okay, that’s how bad it is.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: You’ve never once meant that, Dean. 

Not fucking once.

You’re a dick.

And one day, you’re the one who’s gonna regret it, not me.

+

September 2005

Dean: Hunted a Djinn today.

Wanna know what my perfect life looked like? 

You: Oh now you wanna talk?

Real nice of you.

Dean: You know what it was

You: And yet I don’t care

Don’t text me again

Dean: You would’ve blocked me if you meant it.

It was you, sweetheart.

You: Good night, Dean. 

Dean: Night.

+

Sam: Hey, darling.

You: Sam!!!!!!!

I’ve missed you endlessly 

Literally haven’t seen you in ages

Sam: Yeah, sorry about that.

Dean told me that he met you at the gathering.

You: Yeah why weren’t you there?

Sam: Just didn’t feel like it.

But I do miss seeing you, send me your location?

You: Virginia, what about you?

Sam: Close. About a day out.

You: You don’t have to, we can meet up when we’re closer.

Sam: Ah, so you don’t wanna see me?

You: No no no I do, just don’t bring Dean.

Please, Sammy.

Sam: Sorry, sweetheart but if I drive him around then I get to go wherever he does.

You: Dean?

Sam: Yeah, Sam’s in the bathroom. We’re on our way.

You: Don’t text me.

Sam: Heard that threat before.

Sam: Hey, sorry, I didn’t know he would do that.

You: I’m wrapping up my hunt, won’t be in Virginia when you get here.

Sam: No no, please.

You: Sorry.

+

January 2006

Sam: Hey.

You: Hi.

Sam: Dean’s dying.

You: What are you talking about?

Sam, answer the phone.

Sam the last thing I told him is to not talk to me please answer the phone

Sam: We’re at Bobby’s.

You: I’m on my way.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter Three: Unraveling

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

| Part 1 | | Part 2 |

I pinky promise there will be smut in the next part🤞 I just felt like making this one a bit of a slow burn

Taglist: @shadowqueen1322 @secretsideofbree @lillyrob

It started with nights at the manor.

At first, it was just a casual thing—Bruce would send a car, and you’d spend an evening talking over expensive whiskey, letting the world outside the Wayne estate fade into irrelevance. You still worked at the bar, still went to class, but somehow, Bruce had become a fixture in your life.

And it wasn’t just the money.

Yes, he still tipped you ridiculous amounts when he showed up at the bar. Yes, the black card he’d given you sat in your wallet, burning a hole you had yet to fill. But more than that, he was there.

The texts started coming more frequently.

B: You still alive?

You: Barely. My professor is trying to kill me with this assignment.

B: Send me the prompt. I’ll have my team handle it.

You: Absolutely not.

B: I don’t like seeing you stressed.

You: And I don’t like billionaire academic fraud.

B: Fair point.

He called, too—not often, but enough that you found yourself waiting for the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

The nights at the manor got longer.

At first, it was just drinks and conversation, but then there were the quiet dinners Alfred started preparing for two instead of one. The slow walks through the grand halls of the estate, the firelit nights spent sprawled on the couch in the library, his arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you.

And then, of course, there were the kisses.

God, the kisses.

They started slow, teasing, an extension of whatever sharp-witted conversation you’d been having before he inevitably leaned in. Bruce kissed with purpose, with intent, with the kind of control that made you dizzy.

But that’s all it was.

Kissing.

He never pushed, never let things go further than you could handle, and part of you wondered if he knew.

If he had already pieced together that you had never done this before.

Not this—not just the kisses, but the way he made you feel.

Because it wasn’t just physical.

Bruce knew you.

He listened when you ranted about your classes, when you muttered about your deadlines, when you offhandedly mentioned your favorite books or movies. He remembered, too—casually dropping facts about your life into conversation, surprising you with small gestures that proved he had been paying attention.

“Tell me something real,” you murmured one night, curled up next to him on the oversized couch in his study.

Bruce glanced down at you, brow raising slightly. “Something real?”

You nodded. “Something not in the tabloids.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your knee.

“I never sleep for more than three hours at a time,” he admitted finally. “It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

You frowned, shifting to get a better look at him. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. “You know why.”

You did.

Gotham knew the story of Thomas and Martha Wayne—the billionaire philanthropists gunned down in an alley, the grieving son left behind.

“I dream about them,” Bruce continued, voice quieter now. “Not always in the way you’d think. Sometimes it’s just… glimpses. My mother’s perfume. My father’s laugh. I wake up before I can hold onto any of it.”

Your chest tightened.

You reached for his hand without thinking, threading your fingers through his. Bruce blinked, as if surprised, before his grip tightened around yours.

He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, deliberate pattern over your knuckles. “I just—”

“I’m glad you told me,” you interrupted softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering toward your lips.

That night, the kisses were softer.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just there.

Something real.

—

It was a few weeks later when you finally asked.

You were sitting in Bruce’s bedroom—an indulgently large space that still somehow felt distinctly him. There was a fireplace crackling in the corner, the low golden light casting shadows across the room.

Bruce was on the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his phone. You had a book open in your lap, though you weren’t really reading it.

Instead, you were watching him.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Mm?”

You hesitated. “Are you… waiting for something?”

He set his phone down, eyes scanning your face. “What do you mean?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the book. “I mean, we’ve been… this for a while now.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “This?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted.

You exhaled. “So, are you waiting? For me?”

His expression shifted, something fond passing through his features.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Your stomach flipped. “Why?”

Bruce sat up, moving closer. One of his hands found your knee, fingers brushing against the fabric of your leggings.

“Because I know you,” he said, voice low. “I know you wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t real for you.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

His thumb traced slow circles against your leg.

“And I want to take my time with you.”

You felt yourself flush, warmth spreading through your body at the implication.

Bruce smirked slightly, tilting your chin up with the crook of his finger.

“You deserve more than rushed decisions,” he murmured. “I don’t need more. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You inhaled sharply. “I—”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and coaxing.

“Don’t overthink it,” he whispered against your mouth.

And for once, you didn’t.

—

It didn’t happen that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

But somehow, the waiting didn’t feel like waiting.

Masterlist

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Gorp, Questionable Child Rearing, Progressive elves and some campaign lore!

As always, I apologize if your ask isn't here/ hasn't been replied to, it is unfortunately impossible for me to answer to every question I get to the extend I would like to. Occasionally I also just don't have a very interesting answer to offer 😅 and I try to avoid spamming people's feeds! But thank you so much to everyone who interacts with my stories, characters, art, and is curious about my thought process and writing! The response is frankly just as overwhelming as it is deeply appreciated, and every word of encouragement or message about how I inspired you to draw or write more of your own stories makes my day.

DU drow and Gortash had what I would describe as a "Toxic Friendship". They got along well enough, had little friend dinner-dates, drank together, superficially shared their woes in ways that benefited no one, and DU drow ultimately had a great deal of respect for Gortash - except you would have never known that by the way he treated him.

DU drow belittled, harassed, and even destroyed Gortash's property on whim alone. Every compliment was back-handed and every display of friendship was somehow sarcastic. Gortash let everything slide right off his back for reasons I like leaving obscured. Here's a particularly intense write-up I did about their relationship a long time ago that still stands. I think it serves really well to illustrate how intense DU drow could still be about his friendships.

PFFTT, I don't know why that would be a female-child only thing, but maybe that's just a colloquialism?

DU drow actually talks pretty similarly to children as he does to adults! He just doesn't set the same expectations on them. Children don't ask stupid questions because the world is still new to them, nor do their respond reasonably to everything, they also don't understand some big words or complex ideas depending on how you present it to them - he understands this and adjusts accordingly. But otherwise his tone would be the same, even with his his own child. He's that guy who's good with kids on the basis of treating them as to-be adults rather than.. Well, just a child.

The Astarion assessment is fair, LOL.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

(Surface) elven kind strikes me as fairly gender-indifferent overall! And while I enjoy theorizing about how their culture has shifted over the years from exposure to "urban life", for both better and worse, I like to think this is an aspect that has remained mostly unchanged, even for elves who may have had a really mixed-up upbringing from living in a city as diverse as Baldur's Gate.

I believe Astarion (and by extension Shadowheart and DU drow) are fully aware that they read as their respective genders and that for other races, such as humans, that means something; but for them that is a different custom that doesn't really apply outside of pronouns and reproductive expectations. So, I actually believe that Astarion would be pretty indifferent to life as a woman save for occasionally missing having a dick for the obvious reasons (only to then shift back and lament the opposite, probably).

ALL THE TIME!

But I know that you meant to ask if I will ever draw it.

VERY LIKELY THAT I WILL.

As a side note, thank you for showing interest and excitement for male-on-male sex that isn't just anal, LOL.

CW for the obvious, though nothing too descriptive or awful.

I understand if people disagree as a knee-jerk reaction, but I would say that Astarion's character demonstrates a shocking amount of self-control and emotional regulation. I went into this more in detail in an older post, but basically: the guy always brings himself down from his own outbursts, is exceptionally good at reading the room, is extremely forgiving and pragmatic, and knows when to send the jokes outside and respond to vulnerability in kind. I stand by this as more than a headcanon; it's in his actual writing and dialogue.

All that to say, I don't think Astarion would ever lay a violent hand on his own children. I also don't HC him as having endured corporal punishment as a child, hence not really having that instilled in his mind as a possible example to draw from.

I could see DU drow implementing physical punishments that he doesn't consider to be actually painful, like pulling, pinching, or squeezing a child while you reprehend them; things a parent might do because they think it's harmless. Astarion would probably be the one to say he's not really achieving anything - so it would likely be short-lived.

I DO think they would both be okay with setting up their children to pretty arduous physical labor, though, both as punishment and just in general to toughen them up. You could argue there's a way to do this that is reasonable, but they would prooobably push that line into dubious territory.

Buddy, WHO said low fat, what do you think the meat and taters that he's eating is swimming in!

But back to your question, he can enjoy a sweet treat every once in a while! He just far, far prefers savory. Personally, I think the guy would go crazy for a panettone. Or a big sugar-powdered crepe with some berries.

I kind of flew through the Circus in DU drow's playthrough because I was SO excited to get to Baldur's gate. They were only there long enough for DU drow to make Astarion mildly pissed off during the dryad's weird love quiz.

I also somehow missed Lucretious and never got the Dribbles quest - probably for the best.

Becoming a big ol' squid seems like a deal-breaker for his character in-game - so, same thing applies here. He'd let him down gently but potentially want a friendship for as long as DU drow is still himself.

... Buuuut it would never come to that; DU drow would most likely end his life pretty swiftly if he were to turn into a mindflayer, so Astarion wouldn't have much to worry about 😬

Alas, she pretty much never crosses his mind since he has no recollection of the type of relationship they had prior to DU drow's amnesia.

Or at least she won't as long as nothing weird ever happens that potentially jogs his memory 😇

Hello! I also love the escorts, but due to both DU Drow's and Astarion's respective attitudes towards drow and that kind of activity they didn't really hire his services. I do like to think him and his sister had a lot to gossip about as soon as they turned their backs, though, LOL.

[zepskies]

hiiii, i hope your friday is going well lovely 💞💞 :) how has your week been?💕

i’m currently stuck at work and it’s beeeeeen quite the day already, but you always cheer me up so i have a random question :p

i’m thinking about the scene when dean tried cafe con leche in the midnight espresso-verse (also i’m a barista loll🥲), and he was pleasantly surprised, so it has me wondering;

if they were to get something besides plain coffee, what do you think dean/ben/beau/russell would like to drink if they ordered at a coffee shop?

i always love to hear any and all your thoughts 🙂‍↕️🤍

Hello my lovely! 💞💞 I actually am in recovery this week after having a surgical procedure yesterday, so I'm finally getting a chance to catch up on my TBR reading and the shows I've had on my watchlist. 🤪

Ooh introducing Dean to Cuban espresso was the scene that inspired that whole fic of Midnight Espresso, and ultimately turned it into a whole series of Dean x plus-sized Latina fun!! lol

This is such a fun question though!! You as a barista probably know way more about coffee than I do, but here's my take on these guys' orders...

HEADCANON: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Dean Winchester

Why, an espresso of course! 🤎

Cram that little cup full of sugar, and you've got Dean hooked on a heavy-hitter fix that'll keep him up during long research sessions. (It also gives you the opportunity to distract him from said research, give him a taste of another steamy fix. 😘❤️‍🔥)

Beau Arlen

Ooh I feel like he'd protest at first and claim to solely drink Americanos, but he's a basic latte guy.

Hit him with some caramel or hazelnut, and he's happy. But you could also hook him into being a little adventurous with a pistachio or "brown sugar" latte lol. Like most things, Beau is willing to try almost anything once. 😉

Soldier Boy (Ben)

So he's definitely going to be thrown by all the modern selections of coffee. (i.e. "What the fuck is oatmilk?") And how the hell can you get milk out of cashews and almonds?

All the health crazes, "drip" coffee, and milk alternatives are definitely going over his head, or he's mocking them. ("Save that pussy drink for Hughie." 💀)

But one thing he might go for, other than a black coffee, is a nice cold brew, hold off on too much foam -- can't be getting the milkstache, now can he? But he'll like it even better if you make it "Irish." 💚

Russell Shaw

Last but certainly not least, we have Russell! I don't think he's picky about his coffee, considering he probably drinks a lot of free motel coffee. lol

But! I think he'd appreciate a nice flat white at a proper café. It's more robust than a normal cappuccino and less milk, so he'd argue that he's getting more "bang for his buck." 😂

AN: @wvffles Hope you liked this little headcanon, friend, and that it cheers you up! I LOVE me some coffee, so this question with the guys was really fun to contemplate. 😘☕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @mxltifxnd0m @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[literallyjusttoa]

Realizing I also want to keep track of the songs Apollo mentions, so I'm gonna go back real quick and mention "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke, released in 1957, which he mentioned in chapter 2, and "Rise to the Sun" by Alabama Shakes, released in 2012, which he mentions in the opening of chapter 10. Listened to them both, and honestly, they're both great songs! And Rise to the Sun actually fits Apollo really well, I was genuinely surprised.

Going back also makes me realize that Apollo was going to sing an honest to god love song to stop Cade and Mikey. That image will stay with me for years, I think.

Rhea is described as dressing like a "Libyan queen of old" which is interesting, bc I couldn't find any reference to Rhea being an important figure during the period where Ancient Greece had footholds in the region. What's interesting though, is that Apollo definitely was. One of the two cities Greeks established in Libya was Cyrene, and some myths even call the native Libyans the founders of both Delos and Delphi. So like, I have no idea where Rick got the idea of Rhea being connected to Libya, but it helped me learn new things, so that's cool!

Another anecdote: When Apollo drives the sun chariot as a bus, Hermes always sits in the back, because that's where troublemakers sit.

The way Apollo describes his physical state, I'm convinced he's just constantly in excruciating pain. Like, all he does is get off the cot in the Apollo cabin, and he says that his "eyes felt as if they were being microwaved in their sockets." Bestie, what? Are you dying, wtf lmao?

Anecdote: Apollo once attempted target practice in Zeus' throne room. That feels like it might have been a more pointed thing.

Apollo sees Nero in his dreams for the first time in chapter 10, but he doesn't recognize him yet. He spends the rest of the chapter simply referring to him as "The man in the purple suit", "The ugly mauve-suited man", and simply "the ugly man" King behavior, honestly.

I know I made a post about it a while ago, but I still can't get over Apollo's outrageous claim of 33 mortal girlfriends and 11 mortal boyfriends. He has past that in Ancient Greek lovers alone lmao.

Rick does a really good job of writing these long flowing internal monologues for Apollo, only to cut them off with a short sentence that both allows for an easy transition out of Apollo's head and back to the action of the scene, but also simulates Apollo getting distracted in his own ramblings and then abruptly coming back to reality. Like, he goes on for three paragraphs about Nico and will, and then his past loves, and then his embarrassment over sharing his love for Hyacinthus and Daphne, only to end it all off with the short line "I am so confused." and then we're right back into the scene. It's a really great comedic bit, and it does wonders for Lester's characterization. (Also my god does Lester read so much like he has ADHD. Almost more than Percy to me, but then I think Lester's flavor of ADHD is much more similar to my own than Percy's is)

Anecdote: Apollo cosplayed Rocky at midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Queen.

Apollo mentions that he filmed the orientation film on "a tight budget in the 1950's" which like, why? Maybe it's mentioned in the supplemental books somewhere, but why would a god ever be put on a budget for something lmao?

"Had I been a god, I would have turned her into a blue-belly lizard and released her into the wilderness never to be seen again. The thought soothed me." One, Apollo she is twelve dear god. Two, I love this as a character moment for Apollo (Stay with me here). Apollo comes from a culture that is so focused on strength and power and violence. The moment he loses control of a situation, he grasps for any way to get power back into his hands. And in these moments, his way of giving himself power is by reassuring himself that he could totally murder everyone here if he wanted to. Killing people is a way to assert control, it's a way that Zeus and the other gods assert control all the time. And there's an implication with Apollo using these lines too. By asserting that he can kill people, it's also an assertion that the people he is threatening cannot kill him. Idk it's just a very interesting way of coping.

Real quick fun fact! Lester describes the Oracle of Delphi in Greece as a "cavern filled with volcanic fumes" but that's not actually 100% correct. The oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece was actually in the Temple of Apollo, with descriptions from ancient scholars putting her either in the cella or in an adyton that was below the main temple. There was a opening in the ground in this chamber, but it certainly wasn't a cave. Furthermore, the whole idea of Apollo fighting Python in a cave? From what I can tell, this is also not based in myth! Most descriptions of the fight between Apollo and Python that I can find in myth describe Python being coiled around the mountains of the Parnassus range, which is a terrifying image honestly. Just find it interesting that none of the cave stuff is actually a part of the Delphic Oracle. I mean, from what I can tell, the nearest mythologically important cave is the Corycian cave, which has nothing to do with the oracle and is also like a 45 minute drive away from Delphi.

I usually try to read three chapters before rb'ing, but I had so many notes on these two that I'm gonna cut it off here. Also, this has kind of just become pointing out shit I find interesting instead of focusing specifically on Lester-isms, but I'm def still gonna point those out, so the tag will stay. I just have so much to say about my little blorbo, sorry guys.

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[yumeaoka-chan]

When my uncle told me this morning that he didn't like Kendrick's performance, I knew straight away that he didn't understand it. Kendrick was sending a message that went over soooo many people's heads. The events of the show I'm going to state that happened aren't entirely in order but if you look back on the performance, you'll see what I mean.

Think. It stars off with Samuel L. acting as Uncle Sam, a character symbolizing America as a whole. He starts off saying, "Welcome to the great American game." We see that the entire stage looks like a game controller, meaning Kendrick was playing a game and Uncle Sam was there to see if he was playing it correctly, the "American" way. When Kendrick raps at the start, we see people exiting the car and they're all separated (just like the people of America). They eventually come together to form the flag because WE, the people, are America. Kendrick also says, "The revolution is about to be televised, you got the right time but the wrong guy."

Uncle Sam says something along the lines of "Oh, so you decided to bring your friends with you. Culture cheat code. Score Keeper! Deduct one life." There's a shot of all the dancers falling to the floor, acting as though they're dead, yet a few people are still up. Almost like they're part of an "inner circle." Uncle Sam also makes a statement about how America doesn't wanna see this loud rapping, "it's too loud", "too reckless" and " too ghetto." When he starts singing and Sza joins him, Uncle Sam goes, "That's what America wants to see. Nice and calm. Don't mess this up". Except, Kendrick does mess it up by going back to rapping loud and fast. "40 acres and a mule", Those are the things that were promised to us black people as reparations for slavery, "- this is bigger than the music" The message he'strying to send to yall is what really matters. But nobody is trying to hear him! "Yeah, they tried to rig the game, but you can't fake influence."

And with ending the performance with "tv off" the camera turns to a lit background in the crowd saying GAME OVER. The game is over, he didn't play it like Uncle Sam/America wanted him to. This was bigger than some beef with Drake.

[stnkiconverse]

HI ITS YOUR GIRL SWANONNN

im interested in sum....enemies to lovers.... with toby....

-🦢

Enemies to Lovers - Ticci Toby x Proxy!Reader

- You and Toby are oil and water from the start. His sharp tongue and impulsiveness immediately put you on edge, while your no-nonsense attitude only fuels his irritation.

- He has a knack for throwing off your focus, his muttered sarcasm or outright refusal to collaborate during missions always sends your blood boiling.

- "For someone who talks so b-big, you're pretty bad at k-keeping up," he'd mock after outrunning you in the field.

- "And for someone who's so 'skilled’ you sure love making my job harder," you'd shoot back.

- The tension comes to a head during a high-stakes mission.
His recklessness forces you to cover for him, leaving you both bruised and pissed.

- You corner him afterward, chest heaving as you shout, "Do you even care that you almost got us both killed?!"

- Toby's jaw tightens, his usual smirk absent. "I didn't a-ask you to save me." His words sting, but his tone is more defensive than combative, like you've hit a nerve.

- After that mission, something shifts. You start noticing things about him you hadn't before, how his hands shake when he's still for too long or the way he fiddles with a small, battered notebook when he thinks no one's watching.

- One night, you find him sitting alone on the porch, hood pulled low as he stares at the stars.

- Instead of walking past, you sit down beside him. He doesn't look at you, but he doesn't move away either.

- "W-why do you care so m-much?" he asks quietly after a long silence.

- The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

- Slowly, the hostility between you softens. Toby starts listening to you during missions (mostly 🥲), and you stop snapping at him over every little thing.

- He begins showing up in your space more often, dropping little jokes or leaning against the wall as if daring you to tell him to leave.

- You catch him sketching once, his natepad open to a rough but surprisingly detailed drawing of a bird. He notices you staring and slams it shut, cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what? Never seen someone d-draw before?"

- During another dangerous encounter, you get hurt protecting him. For once, Toby doesn't crack a joke or brush it off. Instead, he's frantic, hands clumsy as he tries to stop the bleeding.

- "Why the hell w-would you do t-that?" he demands, voice shaking. You can't tell if he's angry or scared.

- "Because l'm not going to let you get yourself killed," you reply, and for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable in his expression.

- After that, Toby becomes noticeably more protective. He doesn't say anything outright, but he's always nearby, watching your back during missions and lingering a little longer in your shared spaces.

- The teasing doesn't stop, but it changes, less biting, more playful. He starts calling you nicknames that are just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes but secretly make your chest tighten.

- One rainy evening, he invites you to sit with him on the porch.

- "Y-you're quieter than I thought you'd b-be," he says after a while, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small smile.

- It's not a grand, all-out moment, Toby isn't that kind of guy.

- Instead, it happens during a quiet night in the aftermath of another mission.

- "You kn-know," he says, not meeting your eyes as he fidgets with a loose thread on his sleeve, "y-you're not as bad as I th-thought."

- You laugh. "High praise coming from you."

- He finally looks at you, his expression unusually serious. "I mean it. You... you make all this c-crap a little easier to d-deal with."

- The kiss that follows is skeptical at first, as if neither of you can believe it's actually happening.

- But when he pulls back, there's a fondness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

- Toby doesn't change totally, he's still brash, sarcastic, and occasionally infuriating.

- But he's also fiercely loyal, sticking close to you and showing his care in subtle ways, like leaving snacks outside your door or quietly patching you up after missions.

- "G-guess you're stuck with m-me now," he says one day, his smirk as annoying as ever.

- But the way he squeezes your hand tells you he means it in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

SWANON IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT THIS LONG😔😔

[motheroffeline]

Come to me

Incubus Aaron Pierre x black obsessive witchy female reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dominant Aaron Pierre, reader is a Tumblr girlie, plot is basically the reader does a love spell on Aaron Pierre, masturbation, and p in d. 18+!!!! DO NOT ENTER!!!!

Your friends made it a point to tell you constantly to delete Tumblr which was literally your therapy at this point. Besides, why would you? Every single piece of smut ever made was literally on the app. Currently, you were laying in your bed, hand pushed waist deep below the elastic of your tights as you stared at the man of your wet dreams: Aaron Pierre. The way he danced through that spirit tunnel sent a surge of wetness through you every time you looked at him. Something was sure and it was that you had to have him. Wife or girlfriend be damned because it was clear that his eyes were looking at you.

There were multiple women on the internet lusting after him yet none of their desires were so compulsive like yours. After you discovered who he was you began to delve into love arts or "spirituality" because in your mind it would beckon him towards you. Begrudgingly, you even downloaded Facebook to collect more pictures of him to add to your online collage. Every night, you would look at his picture and resight the psalms you began to know like the back of your hand. Each night the dreams began to become more vivid.

Your friends began to show great concern for the sudden infatuation you seemed to have with Aaron Pierre. Even Michelle, a long-time childhood friend of yours, was disturbed by the crazed look in your eyes and the way you gestured that all in short words said: I have him. Who needs a fucking friend? You thought to yourself as the women you loved since girlhood expressed their concerns.

Michelle with her light brown eyes furrowing with sadness at your current state said, "girl even if it's a small break just take a little break from the internet. I'm not trying to be mean, but this shit is borderline obsessive. Remember when we used to laugh at them crazy girls on those Tubi movies? You are turning into them girls!" Then, Myah who you had met last year while clubbing wanted to speak some morals into you. "Don't ever obsess over a man that'll never know you. Yeah, a crush itself isn't bad but what you've got going on..." There was a brief silence and an exchange without words between her and Michelle.

You got up without looking at either of them or took a bus home. Who needs a fucking friend?

...

Aaron Pierre's face was plastered over every single social media platform. He came into your dreams with those alluring eyes and the image of him lay so heavy on you that you would think about him while at your job which was a good thing that it was online. You logged out of your computer and masturbated in the shower to the thought of his multicolored eyes. That innocent but sexy way he smiled was nearly enough to send you over the edge every time you saw it.

After shaving and moisturizing your rich, brown skin you saw that Aaron Pierre was doing a livestream on YouTube. Something debauched ran through you and you decided to join the live stream. Every word that formed from his lips were ignored by you as the arousal you felt began to build. At the touch of your clit, his words were cut short as his eyes seemed to stare into yours through the camera. Everybody in the livestream were typing things like "?", "A A ron you good?", "Tf happen", and " Not my babyyy". It was obvious that his eyes were fucking yours with their intensity, something that should be considered supernatural because of how suddenly he was disrupted. The live ended abruptly as you reached the peak of your orgasm and that's how you knew that your calls to him were slowly being answered one ring at a time.

At the beginning of a new morning, you began to work your way through your mundane job when your doorbell rang. Who could it be at this time in the morning? You thought to yourself. And when you opened the door, it was the man himself standing before you. It was something that people could only dream would happen to them but here he was in the flesh, standing before you with that small smile on his face as though he had spawned out of thin air.

"I know what're you're doing... Getting into my head with the subliminal shit. Won't be the first girl to do some crazy shit like this but I guess I'll bite. You didn't even know we lived in the same state. What kind of fan are you?" Somehow his voice was deeper than you've ever heard it before, and it set off something you. Every instinct was screaming not to let this man in, yes, he was Aaron Pierre, but he was a still a stranger at the end of the day.

You decided to let him in.

You finally find the words to say to him, "how do you even know where I live? I started doing the shit because I just knew it wouldn't work yet... here you are! If this is a dream then I can only hope that I'm in a coma right now because..." You pushed your fingers through your afro in frustration.

He finally let out a laugh that was so loud that it shook you to your feet.

"I'm fucking around, I'm visiting all of my top earning contributors. Bit expensive AND dangerous but it's a good marketing tactic. What's with the sullen look?" The cocky look on his face admittedly made you angry. Still, how the fuck did he find you? Life literally gave no answers when you needed them.

"Ok, you're here at my house what do you want?"

Aaron Pierre tapped his chin and then fixed those impossibly colored eyes on you: "I'll let you be the first one of my fans that I fuck. It seems like you want some dick and I'm willing to contribute." The situation would have rubbed anyone wrong, but it just made you wetter.

"Hold that thought." You went over to your cabinet and grabbed your bottle of stella rose and drank over half of it before coming back to him. "You want to fuck me of all people? Something really ain't right about this shit. Like, do you get how much legal trouble this could get you in? I mean I wanna fuck but still. You perfect all over, an actor, the world wants you and... me?" That lecherous grin stayed plastered on his face and seeing him in real life really showed you how ethereal the man was. Muscles rippled underneath his white shirt every time he gestured, his eyebrows were thick and full; but those damn lips are what you wanted the most.

"I'll go ahead and make it all easy for us ight?" In that instant, he snapped his fingers, and you were both on your bed.

"What the fuck?" None of this was making sense, only if it were a dream would it be possible for it to be true.

Aaron Pierre ran his tongue from your neck to jawline as his eyes surveyed the pained look in your eyes. "You smell so fucking good; I love a woman that moisturizes. His hands came up to massage your breasts through your night gown and you were moaning out before you knew it.

"Why are you doing this?" Tears sprang to your eyes at the gentle massage he gave to your breasts, pulling one chocolate nipple out to suck into his mouth. He pressed a finger to his mouth telling you to be quiet as he took his other hand and caressed you through your sweatpants. The arousal was like a liquid heat that was building to overflow.

"Wet ass... this pussy wet for me and nobody else... mmmmmm, I can't wait to eat it baby." His voice shook as he continued to press against you. After practically groping you, he laid on his stomach and pulled your sweatpants and underwear off in one fell motion. His tongue went from clit to ass hole as he licked you like a dehydrated dog. At this point, you were whining and mewling so loudly that somebody from three blocks down would be able to hear you. His pupils began to change into slits as he fucked you with his tongue and slipped a finger in to add damage to the equation.

"I'm gonna cum." You said as a warning, but he only smiled as he continued to eat you like it was his favorite food. High pitched squeals began to come from you and no matter how much you pushed his head, his lips and tongue never let up which led to you squirting all over his face.

"Damn, never had a meal that just kept on giving." He licked his lips in an exaggerated manner and crawled on top of you and began to sloppily kiss you. Spit was exchanged along with your arousal as his... wait a minute? His slit eyes stared back at you. You were enthralled so completely by him that you could neither run away nor scream.

His dick slipped into you so discreetly that it was like he was crafted out of velvet. You spread your legs further apart as he pounded into your wet pussy as though you were a toy. Those eyes dared you to look away as he made your fantasies, and your nightmares come true. You did believe in some supernatural things but really more for fun than anything else and now the proof was fucking you into oblivion. Of course, he had to be a demon, there was no man popular or otherwise that had garnered attention like this.

He moaned as he leaned his head back exposing his bobbing Adam's apple. His sweat dripped down on you as he took you in missionary. "This what you wanted though. I understand your fear but don't worry about the fear right now. Your biggest crush in the world is fucking you so good you can't say nothing." His words were both condescending and erotic in their own right as your arousal caused his dick to appear dripping with it. The roughness of his stubble pubic rubbed against your clit which caused you to babble incoherently.

"I wanna watch that ass bounce against it. Hol' up..." He snapped his fingers, and you were both were in doggystyle position. You wanted to cry because of how intense the pleasure that he was giving you. Every single thrust hit that spot inside of you.

He grabbed your waist and fucked himself with you. He let out a deep growl and came inside of you so much that it overflowed onto your clean, cashmere pink sheets. Now, a darkness firmly planted itself in the air within the silence of prior sex. But the quietness was suddenly disrupted by his beautiful voice:

"Loved every minute of this shit.... but you gotta close them pretty brown eyes of yours and forget." Tears sprang to your eyes as you lay completely limp as he towered above you, "nobody in the world can know about this which is why I'm making you forget what happened here. I'll be one of them men you want but can't get again. I'll be one of them men you'll never meet because we haven't met. But what I won't remove is the way you aching from me eating and fucking that pussy... you wouldn't wanna forget that, yeah?" His voice faded into the background as inky blackness started to fill your vision.

****************************************************************

Y'all I am so disgusting for this!!! I couldn't sleep so I was like lemme make a little smut for us tumblr girls who like Aaron Pierre but then I went overboard, and I was like eh I'm not deleting all of this lmao.

[waifuoftomonori]

Okay, I’ve answered most of these in other posts already, but I’ll go ahead and answer the ones I haven’t. (I’m not sure if this is the usual way to do this, but I doubt anyone’s gonna send me asks and I want to answer the questions anyway.) 1. N/A - no other fictional character brings me nearly as much joy, comfort, or lust as Tomonori of Scarlet Fate

2. Well, when I was a kid, I had a major crush on Farid from Inkheart, if that counts. I haven’t read those books in ages, so he is no longer a blorbo for me, and considering he’s a kid, I don’t know if he would still be if I reread those books. I feel like I might sympathize more with the author, or maybe even get a crush on— what was his name, Dustfinger?— the grown-up thief. …Anyway, due to that combined with the portrayal of certain characters in The Thief Lord, I blame Cornelia Funke for my lifelong obsession with rogues.

3. see my post about the moment of blorbo-ization

4. I have to pick just one? Oh, man. Okay, as impressive and sexy as Tomonori’s composure in the face of various threats is, from a snarling beefy monk to various gods/demons who want to end the world, my favorite thing about him has to be the world-altering potential of his unspoken but deeply passionate love for Shiki. This man was equally willing to cause the apocalypse or save the world for her. That is a choice he canonically laid at her feet. I’ve seen “I’ll end the world in your name / out of love for you” a few times before, and I’ve seen “I’ll save the world for you / because you’re in it” a few times, but this might be the first and only time I’ve seen a character who’s absolutely willing to do either. Who puts his personal opinion of whether the world should continue or end secondary to the opinion of the person he loves, even when he has the power to do either, and gives her that choice instead. That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen a character do in fiction.

5. Do I dislike anything about him? Other than things the writers didn’t fully explain, like whoever decided the role he should play in Gentoka’s route, no. It’s not that I think he’s flawless, but his pettiness and stubbornness and (only sometimes necessary) secretive tendencies and all of that are endearing to me.

6. Uh, I don’t know. The writer in me would be dying to show him my fanfiction and ask, “How would you act if you were in this situation?” or “Is this something you think you would say? How would you change it?” about a million places in the work, but as a person I think that might make him uncomfortable, especially if it came out of nowhere. I do “talk to him” a lot in my journals, and my version of him answers back. We’ve had whole conversations. He can’t seem to stop calling me “Shiki” though; it feels incredibly awkward to have him use my real name for some reason.

7. There’s a fandom other than me? Like, a fandom with collective opinions and stuff? I had no idea.

8. Introvert who’s learned how to read people and interact with them in formal contexts out of necessity. He’ll paste on a smile and say all the right things in public, but if given the choice he’d rather be at home reading.

9. calm, devious, romantic

10. If he’s trying to protect me, yes, absolutely. If that’s not a guarantee and Shiki and Akifusa also exist in this world (mostly Shiki, he’s not quite as protective of Akifusa, who to be fair doesn’t need it from physical threats as much), then I’ll trust him to protect me as long as it doesn’t interfere with their lives or safety.

11. Yup. So many fanfics. Still writing them, in fact.

12. Yeah, my mom, dad, and stepdad all know about him and the extent of my obsession with him. I’d probably gush about him to my brothers more if they were home more often or showed even a trace of interest.

13. Anything I could feasibly see him doing? No. But then I guess if he committed an act that would severely change my opinion of him, he wouldn’t be the same character, would he? So maybe that’s the whole point of the question. …Uh, sorry for clarifying all that. I guess if he raped someone, that would change things.

14. Again: there’s a fandom? Never had that problem. But even if I did, I don’t think I would distance myself from the character, just from the other people. Or if I’d grown close with them, I’d just ask them to stop talking about the character with me, and I’d do the same with them. We’re allowed to have different opinions, but I shouldn’t have to hear them dissing my favorite character if I don’t want to, and I’d hope they would respect that as my friends.

15. Big fandom problems, not mine.

16. Define “canonically”.

17. Hell no. Look, not all writers are sadists who want to see characters suffer. When I do make him suffer, it’s because the story compels me to, or else there wouldn’t be interesting conflict for him (and usually Shiki and/or Akifusa as well) to eventually overcome.

18. Yes. With Shiki and Akifusa, as is doubtless abundantly clear by this point.

19. Short, smartass, scheming, morally complex men who are passionately in love with one woman for the vast majority of their lives. (Or man; I wouldn’t mind reading a gay version of this, I just haven’t found one yet.) Alternate type: thieves, rogues, bandits, cutpurses, pickpockets, footpads, maybe assassins in extreme cases. If the two “types” are combined in one character, so much the better. Also, on a list of fictional characters I find attractive, 4 of the… 20-ish have red eyes, and two of those four are ostensibly human.

20. N/A. …Or, I guess, no. Depending on how one defines “blorbo”. I have favorite characters (and ships) from other works of media, characters and ships of whom I prefer to read fanfiction over fanfiction of any other characters or ships, but I don’t get excited about them the same way I do about Tomonori.

21. N/A

22. I don’t know. I want to say yes, but if he were real I’d feel uncomfortable writing fanfiction about him, since I don’t do RPF. And although I adored him as a character in canon, I think it was through the fanfiction I wrote after that I grew to love him and all his many facets on a deeper level. But I guess if he were real, he’d be dead since he lived in the Heian era, so maybe I wouldn’t have that problem. But I dunno, then I’d have to do even more historical research, and that’s just a pain in the ass. I’d probably still admire him, though.

23. He’s a victim of 1. Gentoka’s route; 2. not appearing in the CD Drama official art that showed the 5 “main” love interests shirtless but apparently Tomonori didn’t matter enough to the writers for that; 3. not getting a nice yukata in the summer festival stories despite the fact that fuckin’ Akifusa got one and from goddess lady’s perspective I would think Tomonori would seem more important and thus more deserving of one, but again, apparently the writers and/or artists didn’t care enough about Tomonori for that; 4. not getting any additional “autumn” stories; and 5. not getting a sequel story. …If anyone does happen to have information that the people in charge of Scarlet Fate released extra bonus stories and/or official art of him wearing anything other than that kimono (or the school uniform for the high school AU CD Drama, but that doesn’t count because it’s not canon and they did it wrong anyway, Shiki should obviously have been childhood friends with Akifusa and Tomonori too, not just some rando girl they instantly crushed on at first sight— leave that to the other love interests)— please let me know, and let me know where I can read or see it.

24. hmmm. I don’t want to change anything. But if I had to? Let’s make him even shorter. Like, 5’0” or something. Even shorter than Shiki.

25. I’m pretty sure they used him in the Scarlet Fate+ app to introduce the player to the game, but of course at that time I didn’t realize who he was. How did I first discover that app? I was playing a bunch of similar otome at the time— well, similar in the sense that you’d spend some version of stamina to read stories for free 5 times a day, or you could pay once to gain access to the full story. I think I gave up on Scarlet Fate+ because it’s really not the kind of story that’s ideally read in small fragments like that, but later I returned to the paid version, bought it, and thoroughly enjoyed Akifusa’s route. (After reading Gentoka’s, which was kinda meh— and I have the problem with it I mentioned above, although I didn’t have that problem at the time because Gentoka’s route is lacking in Tomonori lore so I didn’t have the full context— but helped me realize Shiki’s a badass, and I liked it enough that I wanted to read about other characters. …Anyway, I read Akifusa’s next because Akifusa made me laugh, and I’ve found that’s usually a good sign I’ll enjoy an otome character’s route. Often that character will end up being my favorite. In this case, I fell in love with his best friend instead. Sorry, Akifusa. Look on the bright side, you’re one of the characters I ship with him.) 26. Definitely not. This sounds terrible to admit now, but at the time I thought he was just a tutorial character who they only included because he had a pretty face. Even after you get to see little hints of his personality in the game, I still had no clue. I think the first premonition I had that he might be a more interesting character than I gave him credit for was how he dealt with the “trolley problem” in Akifusa’s route. Possibly.

27. Of course I want more people to know about him. It’s tiring having to explain who he is every time. I joked about making an informational PowerPoint once, but I might seriously consider doing that.

28. Yes. Not for any reason to do with Tomonori specifically, but I have been attacked online for the mere fact that he is a fictional character and I’m obsessing over him. I think I made a post about that too.

29. I’m the only creator of fanfics about him that I know. No, my own fanfiction has not made me cry. It has moved me emotionally on occasion, but not to the point of tears.

30. It’s been six years so far. What’s another three? Sure.

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

have you ever written a fanfic about your Blorbo?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

have you ever gotten involved in ship wars?

is your Blorbo canonically alive?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

if you have more than one Blorbo, do you love them all equally?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

how did you first discover your Blorbo?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

have you ever been attacked online just because you liked your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?