#maria 🌷

[reidrum]

oooooohhhh miss thang loving the new theme mhm mhm

thx bbg

[reidrum]

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

feeling insane over this actually btw what the hell god i need him so bad 🚬

schröndinger’s relationship

spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: situationship (ish? it gets resolved fast lol), mutual pining, friends to lovers (except they've been kissing for months), mention of heavy makeout, lap sitting, shirt removal, spencer kissing you to shut you the fuck up, cat does not survive the experiment (metaphorically speaking, there is no animal killing in this fic LOL) wc: 1.4k request: here

Your body is warm in his lap, your weight pressing down just enough to be distracting — no, disorienting — and Spencer is trying very hard not to look at your lips. Not just because they’re parted, slick, and kiss-swollen, but because the soft smudge of your lip gloss is evidence that this has been happening. That he’s been kissing you long enough to leave proof of it.

Mascara has clumped just slightly at the corners of your lashes and there’s a half-moon of pink polish chipped at the very edge of your thumbnail.

He’s obsessing over details. Your pupils are dilated, swallowing every fleck of color. He knows it’s a physiological response — dopamine, norepinephrine, oxytocin, all working in tandem to make you look like this, flushed and increasingly pretty on his thighs.

It’s easier to focus on biology than it is to focus on the fact that this moment exists in a state of suspended reality.

This was new. Not just in the way that everything between you had been new, in the way that months of small, careful steps had led to this, but in the way that Spencer had never felt like this. Overheated. Overwhelmed. Overrun with sensation. It had started as everything else had — soft and slow, the kind of kissing that didn’t lead anywhere except to more kissing. 

And for months, he convinced himself that he could exist in this purgatory of lips meeting and parting, of hands resting politely at your waist. That he could always pull away before the ground gave away beneath him.

Today the ground was gone.

Spencer had never been particularly drawn to categories — not in the way people seemed to crave them. Labels had always felt limiting, reductive, forcing the complexities of human relationships into neat little boxes that never quite fit. He had been content in ambiguity, had never needed something to be named in order to understand it. 

With you, the lack of label wasn’t liberating, it was frustrating. Because if this wasn’t something that could be named, then what was it?

“I’m just saying, I feel like if Rossi can write a whole book about a case, then I should at least be able to mention it in passing at brunch.” Your fingers skate absentmindedly across the dip of his throat, and Spencer, entranced, forgets to do something as basic as breathe. Oxygen is apparently optional. “But no, apparently that’s an inappropriate topic over eggs benedict. Which, okay, sure, but if I have to sit through another conversation about Carly’s fiance’s fantasy football league, I think I deserve to liven it up a little, you know?”

Your genuine need for an answer is clear, but Spencer can’t even remember what brunch is.

You gesture when you talk, and it’s so innocent — just emphasis, just a habit — but right now, it’s destroying him. Your fingers drag absently up his arm, over the soft material of his sweater, mapping the line of his forearm before skimming back up his neck. And then, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your palms smooth over his chest, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone like you’re idly counting his heartbeats. Spencer is painfully aware of every single one.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

Spencer manages to clear his throat — barely.

“I think your friends don’t appreciate you enough.” His voice sounds strained, but any attempt at analyzing tone evaporates the second his fingers breach the barrier of your shirt. 

Warm fingertips skim over bare skin, and suddenly, the conversation seems wildly misplaced. Because what was that about appreciation? If he’s trying to prove a point, he’s making it very convincingly.

You hum, shifting against him — not intentionally, probably, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels it all the same.

“Well, I can’t just hang out with you constantly.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond — because if he’s honest, that’s exactly what he wants. You, constantly. No breaks, no buffer. Just you.

Instead, he stares at your mouth again, because his brain is broken, and this is the inevitable destination. He never really understood the appeal of making out before you — before that first time, when he was supposed to just kiss you once and somehow ended up losing entire minutes of his life to your lips, to the sheer pleasure of pressing against you, of drinking in your sounds.

His broken brain is built to reinforce pleasure-seeking behaviors. Neurochemical feedback loops, all of it designed to keep him coming back. To keep him wanting. As if he needed the help.

Spencer doesn’t even pretend to think about it before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Your lips twitch. You’re about to tease him, he can tell.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all,” you say, tilting your head. “But wasn’t it you who went on that tangent about how platonic relationships significantly improve cognitive function?”

Spencer tries to find a loophole in that statement.

“And we,” you say, tracing a path down the trail of hair at his navel, “are not exactly fulfilling the platonic requirement.”

There was a time when he would have insisted — vehemently, even — that their relationship was strictly platonic. Fool’s errand.

“I mean, technically, if we wanted to be platonic, we could just… say we are.” That alone is egregiously incorrect. Spencer prepares to say as much, but then you pause, rolling the thought over like you’re actually considering it, before adding, “Like if we don’t label it, then it doesn’t count, right?”

His first instinct is to argue. His second instinct is to really argue. But neither one survives the sensory overload of you pressed against him.

“It’s like when you don’t open your credit card statements,” you continue, lips pursed. “Sure, the debt exists, but if you don’t acknowledge it, then it doesn’t feel real. So technically, if we just never say what this is, then it’s…”

“Schröndinger’s relationship?”

Spencer doesn’t know why he gives you the words — why he hands you the metaphor like a loaded gun and watches as you take perfect aim.

“Exactly! We exist in a state of undefined possibilities. We’re both platonic and not platonic until we open the box.”

Spencer sighs, rubbing at his temple, because now his entire brain is consumed by the implications of your logic. 

Schrodinger’s cat was never meant to be a real experiment — just a way to illustrate how, in quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until measured. The cat is placed in a box, along with a vial of poison triggered by a completely random quantum event. Until the box is opened, it’s both alive and dead, trapped in an impossible in-between, a paradox that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. The problem is, that concept doesn’t translate perfectly to relationships. People aren’t quantum particles. Relationships don’t exist in probability states.

Except, apparently, this one does. Because as long as neither of you put a definitive label on what’s happening here, you exist in an undefined state. 

He glances at you, at the expectant look in your eyes, and something about it makes him laugh, not because this is funny, necessarily, but because of course it would take a physics analogy for him to see what’s been obvious all along.

“I’m fairly certain that if we opened the metaphorical box, we would find that the cat — that is, our relationship — was decidedly not platonic.”

He hopes you’ll take the words for what they mean. That, for once, you won’t take the obvious escape route, won’t let yourself tuck this moment nearly into the realm of plausible deniability.

Because what he really said — what he really meant — was that he wants you. Only you. Singular, exclusive, definitively. If you pressed him for stronger language, he’d give it to you.

Your face was quick to light up.

“Are you asking me to go steady? Because Spencer, that’s a serious commitment. That means shared desserts, and, like, the expectation that I text you goodnight. And what’s the policy on PDA? Full access or —”

The rest of your sentence vanishes into fabric as Spencer pulls your shirt over your head, words muffled into cotton. You let out a muffled protest, momentarily caught in the fabric, and Spencer swears he’s never been more tempted to laugh at anything in his life.

By the time he tosses your shirt aside, you’ve recovered, blinking at him like nothing happened, hair adorably mussed.

“ — case-by-case basis?”

Spencer drags his hands down your hair, smoothing out the worst of the damage. He sighs dramatically, but his lips are twitching. “If I had known going steady required this much paperwork, I would’ve reconsidered.”

You grin at him. “Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait until we get into the holiday gift-giving policies and date night scheduling. Speaking of which —”

He doesn’t let you finish. He kisses you mid-sentence, less because he wants to shut you up (though that’s a nice bonus) and more because he can. Because he gets to. Because somehow, without him even realizing it was happening, this wonderful, impossible thing has become real.

This thing between you, this thing that was supposed to be undefined, a quantum maybe — it’s never been uncertain. It’s never been both platonic and not platonic, no matter how long he tried to pretend otherwise.

No, the box is open now. It probably always was. 

And Spencer had never been so happy to kill the cat.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[orchidcovs]

♡ ; maria jefferson ( @purebloods-mudbloods ) send: “i still ponder what it meant”

Penelope siempre era un manojo de nervios, por lo que las repentinas palabras de la muchacha la asustaron, incluso dio un pequeño saltito en su asiento en aquella mesa de la cafetería. "¿A-a qué te refieres?" cuestionó sin entender lo que pasaba.

[cheolcam]

meu amor, me fala UMA vez q eu te traí, só UMA, aí não tem, tá vendo? eu JAMAIS te trairia pq eu te amo♡

sorte sua que teu antigo blog não existe mais, pq eu ia procurar só pra jogar na tua cara

[witchofthemidlands]

thank you for showing me that deleted scene i can't believe i'd never come across it before 🥹

Ya'll we need to talk more about the S2 deleted scene where the Doctor and Rose are holding hands, chatting and walking to the Powell Estate, it's such a beautiful moment of casual intimacy, domesticity, and really shows how close they were- not to mention how happy he was :(

I wish there was a way to find a complete script with that scene in it, they're obviously talking about someone specific

Rose says "we get on really well" to which the Doctor responds "oh she really wants to see you again"...maybe Sarah Jane??

🤔🤔🤔

[milla-frenchy]

Joel, Jackson

6k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: after years of wandering, you joined the Jackson community. Once back on your feet, you started patrolling regularly with Joel. Over the months, you ended up getting closer to that bruised man. Warnings: 18+ mdni. strangers to friends to lovers, oral (f/m), alt pov, piv, cum eating, cnc (safe word, knife play, rough sex, dirty talk, aftercare). No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to the Jett’s Flora & Fauna challenge 🌷🪻🌻 Thank you for this beautiful event @morallyinept ❤️ Also, thank you to @cavillscurls, who kindly agreed to let me work on this anon she received, with Jackson!Joel and a cnc idea. Thank you very much, Mya 🙏❤️ Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading, and for your daily support ily 💕💕💕🫶

Masterlist

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

You and Joel met in Jackson, when you joined the community, exhausted by months, years of wandering from camps to camps, where you lost everything over time. Your friends, your family, your boyfriend. 

Tommy and Maria took you in and you rebuilt yourself, never thinking that you would find love again. That you would find it with that gruff, not very verbose man, about whom some people warned you. They told you about his violence, his ruthlessness. About things “other people” told them, and repeated without knowing him. That he only cared about Ellie and Tommy, that his family was the only thing that mattered to him. They were the only people worth fighting for. Even Maria had been  resentful towards him for a long time, holding him responsible for what Tommy had done to survive.

Once you were back on your feet physically, and more or less mentally, you started taking part in the patrols. You needed to get out into wide open spaces. More and more, you were assigned to do them with Joel. He impressed you countless times in encounters against infected. Against a few people, even. Raiders, hunters. You always felt safe patrolling with him. 

For several months, he didn’t speak much. Just the bare minimum. He wasn't exactly unpleasant, just a little gruff. As if everything that did not relate to basic principles seemed superficial to him. You enjoyed his company, not feeling like you had to talk. Your own reconstruction required a lot of energy, and you were grateful that he didn't draw on your resources. So you patrolled, each on your horse, sharing meals and surveillance. Even if you suspected him of not really sleeping during your watch. He probably didn’t fully trust your abilities, and you couldn’t blame him.

Often, during the breaks to let horses rest, you picked flowers, keeping a bouquet against your horse's rein. Sometimes he asked you what flower it was. Ultimately, it was the flowers that got you two talking about something not related to patrols, and helped you learn how to tame each other.

One day a patrol almost went wrong. You have been overwhelmed by the infected in a building. Until one of them jumped on Joel, throwing him on the ground. He was trying to use his rifle to keep the clicker away from him and his knife was out of reach. You rushed to pick it up before plunging it into the infected’s temple. Joel nodded, thanking you, then you cleared the entire building, making your way through each closed door, each room, each floor. Hiding in every nook and cranny to progress. You just killed two more and were squeezed between a wall and a piece of furniture, careful not to make any noise they could hear. Your body was against his, he made the “shh” sign with his finger, as he did so often. But that time, you saw him differently. It wasn’t Joel anymore, it was Joel, for a minute. You were so close, your eyes fixed on his beard and neck. You looked at his hairs, mixed with browns and grays. The veins in his neck throbbing and the muscles tensing under his shirt. Arousal overtook you. A strong, sudden desire for him, a physical wave, while it had been at least months, since you had wanted someone. Only your fingers had slipped between your thighs. 

And you were there, in the middle of patrol, you both had almost died an hour before, and your only thoughts were absolutely not suitable for the situation. Your brain was a mess and your core even worse. When you finally looked up, you saw Joel's gaze lowered to you and his eyebrows furrowed. Asking you with hand signals why you weren't responding to his gestures. You pulled yourself together, and finished securing the building.

You went to the outpost. Joel was tense, restrained, and you asked him what was going on.

"What’s going on? What the hell happened to you in that building? Totally unfocused and inattentive. I’ve never seen you act so stupid.”

His anger disconcerted you, even though you knew he was right, that your behavior had been totally irresponsible.

“I’m sorry”, you answered sadly.

“You’re sorry? Well I’m glad to know that.”

“Damn Joel, what more do you want me to say? Ok, I screwed up. But a few minutes before I saved your ass. So excuse me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Fuck…”

He leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, rubbing his beard with his thumb, and sighed.

“I shouldn't have reacted like that, I’m sorry. I've never seen you distracted before, and I was probably still under the effect of that clicker that almost got me. Thank you. Just…please stay focused, okay? I can’t leave Ellie without me.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You went to bed. As soon as he mentioned Ellie you had put it into perspective. Of course he didn't want to leave her alone. You fell asleep, driving away your other thoughts. The feeling of his body against yours.

Other patrols followed, and seasons passed. You discovered other flowers that you had not seen in the states you had crossed before. 

You only patrolled with Joel now. Tommy and Maria preferred to send pairs on patrol who knew each other well, their reflexes and instincts worked better. You had caught him snoring softly a few nights, which made you think that, finally, his confidence in you had greatly grown. You also slept when it was his shift. You absolutely trusted him. You knew he would slaughter anyone who came near. He was reliable, strong. He was Joel. You talked more and more, too, confiding in personal things. You learnt a lot from his life, as he had from yours.

He taught you everything he knew about survival and hunting. How to patrol effectively and secure a location. Many times, you told yourself that Jackson was lucky to have him in its community, despite what some people were still saying about him. But the negativity towards him had largely diminished. Maybe people realized you were close and didn’t want to tell you those things. Or maybe they had finally learned to think for themselves, and stop listening to gossip.

As for you...you never forgot the feeling you felt against him. And at night in your bed, your hand would often slide between your thighs, thinking about Joel. Imagining how you would feel if he was between your legs, his fingers in you instead of yours. His cock inside you.

He didn’t seem to have an affair or a friend with benefits. Sometimes you secretly watched him on patrol, when he was washing in a river, or when he was undressing thinking you were asleep. He had always behaved like a gentleman, without ever looking at you inappropriately. So at night, you dreamt. Making your imagination work, telling yourself that even if he wasn't interested in you, he was in your fantasies.

Joel enjoyed patrolling with you. You were attentive, calm and thoughtful. He hadn't forgotten the time he got angry with you. What you didn't know was that he knew why you had been distracted. He had felt your eyes on him. Felt the change in your stare. So yes, it pissed him off that you lost focus, but mainly because he didn't know how to react. Some women in Jackson showed their interest and made direct advances towards him, several times. He hadn't had anyone serious since Tess, and forgot about the emptiness in his love life by taking care of Ellie. The losses he had suffered hurt him too much. Sarah, Tess. Shortly after his arrival in Jackson, he had some fun here and there, but then stopped any rapprochement. This had undoubtedly contributed to his bad reputation, some women had taken it badly. It didn't matter to him. Getting emotionally invested with someone he could lose, like the others, was out of the question. 

And then you arrived. You were wounded when you came to Jackson, physically and mentally. Then you rebuilt yourself, slowly, patiently. He liked your strength. The patrols were going well, you were a bit like him, not talking a lot, serious. He liked it. 

And then there was that day, the patrol that had gone wrong. You saved him. Without you, Ellie would be alone now. 

And then your body against his. He felt the way you froze. Felt your breathing stop, then start racing. Felt your nipples harden against his chest. When he got angry with you he blamed himself for his disproportionate reaction. You were on patrol, but he had gone too far, unable to react otherwise. He knew only too well why. He got attached to you, over the weeks, months, patrols. He was enjoying your company more and more, and not just as a patrol partner. He considered you a friend, and he’d had few friends in his life. Actually, since the world had been in ruins, he didn't think he had any. Didn't trust anyone enough for that. Tess was…family.

He liked seeing you smile, laughing out loud sometimes. He loved seeing your eyes light up and sparkle. He liked your passion for flowers, what you taught him about them. He liked seeing your smile when you found something notable while on patrol. He loved knowing that you wanted to do your part in the community. Because that meant bringing things to Ellie. He loved that you got along well with her, that you laughed every time Ellie gave him a hard time. He used to answer gruffly on purpose, because Ellie would always bite back, and you were laughing, laughing, laughing. And he loved hearing your laugh. And he realized that he liked maybe too many things about you.

Many nights, his fist clenched around his shaft thinking of you. Desperately, he had tried to think of something else, tried to not see you that way. He felt your gaze on him when he took off his jacket, when he washed himself in a river. You did it discreetly, but he was so used to being on guard and scanning his surroundings all those decades post-outbreak, that of course he noticed.

He trusted you, like he hadn’t trusted anyone since Tess. He knew he was letting his guard down, that he crossed a line that he had set for himself: not getting emotionally invested with someone he could lose.

One night during his shift he heard you moaning in your sleep, then crying. He placed his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake, saying “shh, shh, sweetheart. It's ok. Wake up, you’re ok.” You opened your eyes and didn't understand where you were for a few minutes, before hugging him, your head nestled in his neck. For two seconds, his arms remained suspended, not knowing what to do, denying contact. And then he broke down and hugged you too, until your gasps stopped and you stammered an apology. “It’s ok, sweetheart”, he replied. Then he got up and resumed his post near the window, scratching his beard. You went back to bed, your back turned to the wall, and fell asleep again. He knew you mourned the people you had lost. Like so many people, like him.

You woke up the next morning, well after the start of your supposed shift. He let you sleep, and you told him he should have woken you up.

“No, it’s ok. You needed to sleep.”

“You need to sleep too. You won’t be much use if you fall asleep on your horse.”

He laughed, and your heart soared.

"OK, let's go. We have two days of patrol left, and no outpost until Jackson. We’ll have to sleep in our sleeping bags tonight.”

“The first quarter will be mine. I don’t want to get bitten because Mr. Miller had fallen asleep with the rifle in his arms.”

He laughed again. Your heart was beating so loudly you were afraid he would hear it.

You roamed around all day, inspecting a few buildings. The day was calm, just two infected. Finally, Joel asked you to choose the resting point, and you followed all the conditions which, for him, made a place safe and that he taught you about; visibility of any possible intrusion and a possibility of escape, first of all.

“This place looks good,” you said.

“Yeah, fine. Let’s go check out the surroundings.”

You tied up the horses, and looked around. No buildings nearby, enough to shelter you from the wind, excellent visibility.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he confirmed. You ate the dried meat you had left. You had prepared the quantities accordingly before departure. With a safety margin in case of unforeseen circumstances. He was always considerate, and taught you to be too.

You took the first shift to let him rest. Making rounds, attentive to noises. At the supposed end of your shift, he was sleeping so well that you let him rest. When he woke up, grumpy, he grumbled “damn, you should have woken me up. It’s risky to stay up longer, you could have fallen asleep.”

“Mmmm….risky like when you let me sleep yesterday?”

He frowned, before his face lit up. “You’re a little brat.”

“Yeah, I know”, you replied, smiling.

You took the road back to Jackson. It was spring and nature was waking up. Flowers were growing again, you loved them so much. You took a few breaks, to let the horses rest after such a long patrol. At the last one, you saw Jackson from the top of the hill where you were.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re so lucky to have this place.”

When you walked through the doors, he offered to look after your horse as well as his but you refused. You wanted to spend a little more time with him before his daily life took him away from you. He devoted himself to Ellie, even if she grew up and spent more and more time with her friends. You finally went your separate ways, after he gave you one last nod. You sighed as you got home, already missing him. Although there would be a patrol soon. In your shower, your tears flowed. You felt alone.

After your meal, you made yourself some tea. It was steaming on your knees, as you were sitting on the couch, your legs folded. Someone knocked on the door and you got up to open it. 

“Joel? Everything’s fine? Is Ellie ok?”

“She’s ok. She’s having a sleepover at her friend's house. Growing up way too fast.”

You smiled and nodded.

"Can I help you? Do you need anything?" you asked him, stepping aside to let him in. He stood in the hall, his mid-season jacket on his shoulders. He took out a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. You hadn't seen him pick them up, and your heart was coming back to life again, as a smile lit up your face. 

“Here. I know you love them. I thought you would like to have some flowers in your home, their smell in your house.” You took them and thanked him, and you put them in a vase. He was holding his hands in front of him, rubbing them gently. He seemed embarrassed and you frowned.

“Are you ok?”, you asked.

“I…just wanted to thank you. For saving my life that day. I didn’t do it properly.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome. But you already thanked me, really. And you saved mine a thousand times, so…” You smiled at him, but it faded when you saw the way he was looking at you. As if he was about to tell you something difficult. 

Time stopped. The only movement in the room was the vapor of your tea dancing above the cup.

“I know you’re looking at me. And I know why you didn’t react in that building.”

You froze. You expected that he wouldn’t want to go on patrol with you again, that the flowers were a way to say goodbye. That you were about to lose him, having crossed a line that had never been mentioned but that you had visualized deep down for a long time. You felt like you were on the edge of an abyss and about to fall. So you tried to get out of it, to do what you could not to lose him.

“I don’t know wh-”

“Please. Don’t do that. Don’t tell me I misinterpreted, that I’m wrong.”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Tears pricked your eyes.

“No. Don’t be. Or I would have to be sorry too, and I’m tired of being sorry.”

You opened your eyes but kept staring at the floor for a few seconds. Then you looked up at him and read his stare. A multitude of emotions jostled there. The waiting, the despair. Desire? He was lost, too. A thousand thoughts were racing through your head. Did you hear that correctly? Was he suddenly going to walk to the front door and leave? Your gaze was lost in a blur and you didn't realize it. When you came to your senses, his eyes were still fixed on you.

And suddenly you both took a step forward. At the same time, as if everything was choreographed. But it wasn't. As if your bodies were running the dance, not your minds. Only your hearts. His hands found your cheeks, and yours his waist, as your lips met. Your heart was beating wildly but you couldn't hear it. His warmth surrounded yours, and his lips, his tongue were even softer than you had imagined. His mouth left yours, as he brushed your cheek with his beard and his hands left your cheeks and slid down your back, holding you against him. Your nose rubbed against his neck, and you loved his smell. You hugged him close, your arms still around his waist, tighter. 

And then you pulled away, looked at him, grabbed one of his hands and led him to your bedroom. Later, when you thought about that moment, you didn't even remember your walk down the hallway. Just finding yourself in front of him, next to your bed. Joel removing your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. His hands on your breasts, his palms surrounding them with his warmth as you unbuttoned his plaid shirt. Your hands on his chest, following the line of his torso, along his happy trail, to his jeans that you unzipped. Kneeling in front of him, just wearing your sleep shorts. 

You widened your eyes when you saw his cock. It was…big. And you…you hadn’t fucked in a long time. Your tongue tasted his precum. You were afraid of being clumsy after all this time. Your lips rounded around his tip, and you sucked gently, taking your time. The feeling, his taste were driving you crazy. Your head started to move up and down, taking more and more of him in your mouth, and you heard him moan softly. Until his hand gently rested on your head, and he said “sweetheart…I ain’t gonna last. It’s been too damn long since the last time.”

He took your arm to help you get up and you kissed.

You went to lie down on the bed, and he knelt on the floor. He gently pulled you towards him and  took off your shorts. 

He nearly came, just by seeing your folds through the fabric. 

His shoulders slipped between your knees. He was so broad that you had to lean your folded legs against the bed. He caressed your thighs, his skin on yours giving you shivers. He placed his hand flat on your pussy hidden under your panties, then slid his middle finger along your folds, making you whine. He smiled and leaned down, licking through your panties, from the bottom of your folds to your clit.

“God, Joel”, you whimpered.

He grabbed the sides of your panties, slid them down your thighs and removed them. You looked at him, he was so handsome. So caring. So…yours, right now. Then he leaned down again, brushing your clit with his nose, and you shivered.

“You’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah…yes. It’s just…It’s been a long time for me too.”

“I know, baby”, he whispered. The tip of his tongue delicately brushed your folds, from bottom to top. You moaned, clenching the sheets in your fists. His hands were placed on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue again, deeper, and you rested your hands on his head.

“You taste so good”, he murmured.

He spread your folds with his thumbs, and lapped, drinking your wetness. Sucking, licking your pussy like a thirsty man. His nose sometimes brushed against your clit, and you were already seeing stars. Your fists clenched his brown curls. Then he moved back up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it, the tip of his tongue swirling over it. When he brushed the entrance to your pussy with a finger, you thought you’d faint. He pushed it in gently, eased by your wetness soaking the sheets. Your hips rolled into him and your moans filled the room. He added a second finger, and you whispered “oh god...”

He focused on your clit, pumping your pussy gently with his two fingers, just where you needed it. You felt the heat rising in your lower abdomen. “Joel…I’m gonna come”, you whined. He didn't stop, didn't slow down. He kept the same rhythm, until you exploded in his mouth and on his fingers. Clenching them within your walls. You came so hard that you were trembling. He left his tongue resting on your clit until you stopped shaking. Then he sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawled on top of you, helping you move up on the bed. He lay on you, careful not to crush you and said, “we don’t have to do more if you don’t want to”, but you wished to feel him as much as possible. “Wanna feel you”, you said. “Just…go slow, please. You’re…big.”

He smiled in the cutest way possible. Could this man be even more perfect than right at that moment? His body between your thighs, he took his cock in his hand, slid it between your folds to cover it with your wetness. Every time he brushed against your clit, you had goosebumps. Then he nestled it in your entrance, and you wondered how he would fit, but you didn't say anything. He placed his other hand on your cheek and looked at you, to check if you were okay. You nodded, and he pushed. “Oh, fuck”, you thought.

He pulled back, and thrust in again, just as gently. Your walls were accommodating his cock and you felt him slow down.

“Don’t stop Joel, please. I’m ok.”

“Fuck. Ok.”

He kept sinking, slowly. Then you felt his balls against your pussy.

“Yeah, oh god. Fuck. You’re fucking huge!”

He smiled again, and started to fuck you, thrusting back and forth. Slowly but deeply. Buried himself fully with each thrust, brushing against your g-spot. 

“You feel so good around me”, he whispered. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close, your face hidden in his neck, moaning continuously.

“It’s so good…god, that’s perfect”, he said in your ear. Your pelvis accompanied his. His body brushing against the perfect spot of yours. He felt your walls clenching around him, just before you came, your pussy squeezing his shaft. He stopped buried in your core, his hand still resting on your cheek. His other hand under your head and his forehead against yours. Until you stopped moving, your thighs falling back against the mattress. Catching your breath.

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

“Wanna taste you, please.”

He nodded, and stood next to the bed, his fist pumping his shaft in short strokes as you got on your knees, mouth open. He groaned, and within seconds his hot cum started hitting the back of your throat while he was whimpering.

He helped you up, hugged you and kissed you, the sweat on his skin mixing with yours. 

You both showered, your hands brushing against each other's skin, mouths kissing cheeks, necks, shoulders, hands.

“Can you stay and sleep here tonight?” you asked him once you were dried.

“I hoped you’d ask me,” he replied, smiling.

You fell asleep, snuggled up against him, his arms around you. It was the first time you slept together, and it had been perfect.

The next morning he told you his fears of losing you, as he had lost the other people he had cared about. You said he couldn't live like this. That he still had many years ahead of him, and so did you, and that refusing to be together by fear was a sacrifice not worth it. That life was worth living. He finally nodded. Almost reluctantly, as if a part of him was still struggling against this idea.

After several weeks you told Ellie about your relationship.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into with that old grump?” she laughed. Joel rolled his eyes. You smiled, and replied, “yes, I do.”

You had to struggle to make him accept the idea that you would still go on patrol.

One day, when he watched the schedule, he saw your name next to another man for an incoming patrol. He stormed into Tommy and Maria's house, saying “absolutely not!”, hands on his hips and a dark, disapproving glare at his brother. You were at their house, having coffee, and you and Tommy were laughing two seconds after his loud entrance. “What’s so funny?”, he asked gruffly.

“Just wanted to prank you, big brother. You really thought I would put her on patrol with someone else? I don’t want you to beat the shit outta me.” Tommy looked at you and said, "damn that was too easy.” “Told ya”, you replied.

Joel rolled his eyes and poured himself a coffee, before sitting down across from you in the kitchen.

“You knew?” he asked.

“Yeah, and I definitely didn’t want to miss that.”

“Jesus”, he growled.

You got to know each other even more. You talked about your lives before and your losses. He told you about his pre-outbreak life, Sarah. The years that followed, what he did with Tommy and Tess to survive. The people they had robbed, killed. Boston, the smuggling. His deals with FEDRA. His journey with Ellie. The hospital. 

You got to know each other sexually too. He was both tender and rough. His praise and dirty talk were perfect, he always knew what to say, and when to say it.

You fucked a lot, and pretty much everywhere. Your place, where you didn’t live anymore but you would use when Ellie was at home. His place. Against the wall of the Tipsy bison’s bathroom or on the sink. 

The first time you knelt in front of him in an outpost during a patrol, while he was surveilling through the window, he told you "no, no way. Absolutely not”, shaking his head.

“Lemme suck your cock”, you replied. “Keep watching, it’s hot”, you added, unzipping his jeans. After he shot his load on your tongue, with his hand resting on the window and the other clenching your hair, he said "jesus, you're gonna kill me." And he ate you against that window 30 seconds later, after you swore to him that yes, you would watch the outside even with his tongue buried between your folds.

You established a safe word. “Patrol”. You smirked when he proposed that one. He never missed an opportunity to remind you he didn't like that you were still patrolling. 

You played and you discovered each other. More kinks and more desires. Testing limits that opened new horizons of pleasure. You asked him a thousand questions about his past as a raider, and his contained violence during your patrols were making you terribly horny. So one day you told him about something you wanted to try. You wanted to see his dark side. What he was capable of. You wanted to play with your fear, doing it with someone you fully trusted. Someone who could lead you where you wanted to go, but would stop the second you asked. You didn't know where your limits were, but having a safe word was making everything easier.

So you told him precisely what you wanted. A pseudo kidnapping, where he would blindfold you and do knife play. Where he would be rough. Really rough. He listened, half amused, half surprised.

“You really want that? Wanna see this side of me?”

“Yes, Joel. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I really want it.”

“And you’ll use the safe word the second you want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Promise me”, he insisted. “That you will not keep going with something that makes you uncomfortable, thinking that it will annoy me if you tell me to stop.”

"I promise. I know you’ll stop immediately, I trust you 100%.”

He looked at you for a long time before nodding.

"One last thing Joel." He smiled, and asked, “do you have any limits, woman?” You giggled and kissed him, saying “I’m not sure, actually.” Then you looked at him seriously and said, “I don’t want to know when it’s gonna happen. And if I say no, we agree that it's a part of the game. The only thing that should make you stop is the safe word. Or if you are uncomfortable. Do you agree with that?”

“It’s a deal, baby.”

You talked about it several weeks ago, and had done several patrols since then. You thought he would do it during one of them. You knew he hadn't forgotten. He didn't forget anything. 

Joel had been preparing everything for weeks. He checked the place carefully during other patrols, every corner, anticipating every moment so that everything happened safely. He thought about how he would do it, how he would act, what you would love. And he couldn't wait.

You were packing your things for another two-day patrol. A moderately long one, which you knew well, but during which infected were regularly encountered, that time of the year. 

You killed a few on the first day. Nothing particularly difficult, and you reached the outpost. You had your meal. You were getting ready to go to bed, and Joel, as usual, inspected the building again, then left to check the surroundings. You watched him leave through the window, with his brown leather jacket and a backpack, gun in hand. You went to bed, waiting for him to come back but sleep overtook you. You were dozing, without having fallen into a heavy sleep. 

Darkness invaded the room and the sound of the floor creaking suddenly brought you out of this state, just before you were seized. You’ve been grabbed, felt a body against yours on the bed, and a hand covered your mouth. A fabric covered your face and your heart pounded. Part of you thought about the game you discussed with Joel, and another part thought that maybe someone had caught him, maybe killed him. Panic filled you and you struggled, but soon you heard “it’s really stupid to be alone in this abandoned place.” Joel's voice. Your heart rate calmed down and your body relaxed instantly, as the arousal hit you. You relaxed into the arms that were holding you. Damn, he gave you the scare of your life. He manhandled you, flipping you onto your back and straddled you, his thighs surrounding your chest.

“Ain’t that a pretty thing?” he said calmly, before grabbing your breasts with both hands, over your t-shirt. You heard a blade brush against his jeans, and he placed the tip of his knife against your neck. Your chest rose and fell with the excitement you were feeling. He grabbed your t-shirt in his fist and slid the blade through the fabric, pulling sharply. Revealing your breasts through the torn garment. He pushed it aside, the cloth just held by your arms and slid the blade along your chest.

“Your nipples are hard, sweetheart. Does bein’ scared fucking turns you on?”

“Please, let me go”, you begged.

He sneered. “Oh no. Got a pretty damn thing, with, I’m sure, a pretty damn cunt that I’m gonna stuff really soon. Ain’t gonna let you go.”

“Please”, you begged again.

“Maybe that’s what you wanted, being alone in this place. To get caught by a raider? Mmm, sweet thing?”

He never called you ‘sweet thing’. ‘Baby’, ‘darling’, or ‘sweetheart’. You knew he did it to accentuate the game, to turn you on. And god, he was good at it.

“Let’s use this mouth for something better than whining.”

You heard the zipper of his jeans, the rustling of clothes. You heard him jerk off. Then he lifted the fabric covering your face slightly, just to free your mouth. He pressed his tip against your lips, and ordered, “suck my cock.”

You shook your head to keep him away from you and he grabbed your throat. “You know, I like it when they fight. Turns me on even more.” He squeezed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to open your mouth. You licked his tip shyly. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Suck it”, he growled. You opened your mouth wider, letting him slide in, and you blew him. Letting him impose his rhythm. Fucking your mouth until you gasped for air on his shaft. “That’s better, sweetheart. You could almost make me cum down this throat. But I wanna fuck this pussy and make you feel my cock in your stomach.”

He moved back, remaining straddling you, but this time he sat on your thighs, before tearing your panties in two with his blade and you blenched. He released his grip and you tried to pull away but he quickly lay down between your thighs, pinning your body with his.

“You really think you can escape? You won’t feel better if I fuck you after making you bleed a little, believe me. Stop this bullshit.”

“Don’t do this, please. Please, sir…”

“Sir? Fuck I like it”, he said, forcing his knee on your thigh to spread it. Your pussy was dripping, you felt your arousal flowing. He was fully clothed, pressed against your body. He grabbed his cock in his hand, sliding it against your folds.

“Shit, you’re soaked. You really want that cock,” he said, his mouth against your ear, his beard brushing against your skin and his blade against your neck. “Yeah it really turns you on. I’m gonna give you what ya want.” His voice was cold as ice.

He slipped the tip at your entrance and you begged again, “no! Please, stop it!”

“Don’t think so, sweetheart”, he said in a low voice, and sank in your core, putting his hand over your mouth just as he bottomed out. Without covering it completely, in case you wanted to use the safe word. He pulled back, and slammed into you, taking your breath away. “Fuck…suckin’ me right in.” Then he pounded your pussy with his cock, so hard that you could barely breathe.

“Yeah, found a really good cunt. You're gonna come for me sweetheart. Gonna cum on this cock.” He pulled back to cover his thumb with your wetness before thrusting in again, with deep but slow strokes now, and twirled his finger over your clit, making you moan. 

“Yeah, you’re a pretty thing, for sure”, he said. He felt his orgasm building, and was just waiting for you to come, and then he would remove the fabric from your face.

“Fucking perfect cunt”, he growled. “Takin’ me so good.”

Your walls were clenching his shaft more and more, until you came hard, whimpering, grabbing his biceps. 

“That’s it, come on my cock.” He pulled back and got on his knees, removing the garment from your face, just in time to shoot his cum all over your stomach and breasts, one hand pressed against the mattress. "Oh god...Fuck...Fuck, baby..." he said, panting. 

Then he leaned towards you, took your face in his hands and asked “are you okay, sweetheart?”

You leaned him in and kissed him, and said "never better. Fuck, you scared me at first and it was so hot and perfect!!”

You couldn't contain your joy and you saw the relief on his face. “Damn...you didn't use the safe word so I didn't stop, but fuck, you've got nerves, baby!”

“Yeah, well…that means that next time we can go a little further”, you added with a big smile.

He grabbed a wildflower, he had picked before joining you, from the bedside table. He had put it there while he had been holding you, and you hadn't noticed anything. He handed it to you and smiled. “For my girl”, he said. This man was perfect, and he was yours.

You got back to Jackson. You were behind him when you came through the gates on your horses, looking at him. His slightly graying curls. His mid-season brown jacket and his broad shoulders. His ass on the saddle. And you smiled.

Joel, Jackson.

You loved him, and you loved that place.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

[wandasaura]

I CANT PROMISE PICKET FENCES

summary — maria’s always been married to her job, but lately she’s been married to the idea of a future with you

prompt — sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another x talking late into the night

song — black and white by niall horan

🌞⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰🧺꒱ 🌷 ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Spring with Maria always felt fresh. There was just something about the way the flowers enhanced the blue in her eyes and the way her muscles got softer with the weather. She was still your hard headed girl, a woman that would not be swayed easily no matter who she was up against, but a delicacy came to light within her when the weather warmed up and the cherry blossoms bloomed. 

It was your opinion that Maria looked especially ethereal dressed in uniform. The navy blue material brought out the softest wisps of gray in her blue eyes, and the slickback hairstyle she incorporated into her daily appearance was particularly eye-catching, exposing the harsh cut of her jaw and the sharp contour of her naturally slim nose. It wasn’t as soft as her wardrobe at home; loose fitting sweatpants that did wonders for her waistline and some old t-shirt that she claimed had too much sentimental value to toss in the donation pile, but still, to you she looked absolutely diaphanous. You supposed you had to appreciate the uniform, she wore it more often then she did her own clothes, and even now, it was clad to her body like a winter glove as she spun around in her desk chair, two black pens twirling between the slender fingers that were skilled in delicate acts of intimacy. Those same fingers that twirled ballpoint pens between bruised knuckles were fingers that had traced every inch of your skin, and simultaneously pulled a trigger to end the life of someone who had started this life out as an innocent. Maria Hill didn’t have a violent bone in her body, but she owned a heart that fought for justice. 

The bed that Maria had picked out for your bedroom was big. It was big enough for two people to roll around in with an abundance of space between warm bodies and the abrupt edge, but most nights you occupied it alone, and the expense of soft memory foam around either side of your body felt suffocating. Most nights, you occupied Maria’s chosen side of the bed, curled up tight with the blankets pulled taught around your shoulders. Her pillows smelt of the shampoo she favored each time you went grocery shopping, but the sheets lingered with the notes and elements of her perfume that she sprayed all of her clothes with routinely. She was the only woman you knew that kept a bottle of perfume on her bedside table, but you were grateful each night you fell into bed alone and became enveloped in her delicate scent. 

The bottle of perfume on her nightstand had become your temporary tripod as you propper your phone up against it, cocooning yourself beneath heavy blankets and soft pillows as she laid on your side to really look at her, and although the room you occupied was dark and dressed only in slivers of moonlight that slipped into the bedroom, she could see every blemish on your face perfectly. The fluorescent lighting of the helicarrier gave her a radiant glow, and the brightness of her settling bled into yours like she wasn’t really so far away. That thought was merely for your own comfort, realistically you knew that she was somewhere far right now, probably hovering over the rubble of Sokovia or perhaps even farther. She wouldn’t be home for another three nights, but for a moment, if you let yourself drown in the symphony of her laughter that was as sweet and fresh as the songs of a hummingbird, it felt like she was with you. 

“How’s Clint doing?” You questioned softly, cheek pressed firmly against the pillowcase beneath your head and muffling your words slightly. Maria’s lips twitched upward into a fond grin, and her blue eyes traced every shadow across your face as she memorized the sight of you. 

“He’s hanging in there. Misses the kids, misses Laura. He and Nat have been really overdoing the Budapest jokes.” Maria rolled her eyes fondly, her agitation merely pretend as she thought about the birdbrain man and the silent dancer that found themselves beneath her wing. You’re glad that she has some semblance of familiarity, that she’s not entirely alone to act as the Deputy Director, but you miss her either way. 

“Laura’s been sending me pictures of the kids.” You smiled, propping your head up on the pillow with your fist, eyes dancing across Maria’s face as you scan her for injuries she’s conveniently forgotten to mention. Your lips curl further upward when you come up empty handed, but you can’t relax completely knowing there are still hours in the day and multiple nights before she’s home safe and awake from warfare. “Lila and Cooper got into the chicken coop yesterday. Had a water balloon fight with the eggs.” 

Maria’s nose crinkled at the thought of two young children she was entirely fond of pelting each other with eggs, but there was something different in her eyes at the mention of the Barton children. Conversation always flowed between the pair of you naturally, and the lifestyle of Laura Barton was something you’d discussed in length, both of you friends with the woman who had suspended her life in duty to raise three children. You’d never seen Maria so conflicted over a story of her latest adventure, but recently she’d been falling into her head a lot more, surrendering to whatever daydreams she liked to construct when the present became too boring. “Penny for your thoughts?” You offered quietly, eyes kind and questioning. 

Maria’s silence stretches, her expression becoming increasingly conflicted, but eventually her voice fills the bedroom again and it’s like she’s not really gone at all. “Do you ever think about what Clint has?” She asks softly, soft enough for you to pick up on the fact that she’s not asking in the generic sense; she’s wondering if you want what he has. Maria’s always been open about the fact that she’s content in her career, she’s not overly fond of the travel, but she’s content with devoting her life to two things; you and shield. The question that hangs in the area is uncharted territory, but you’re ready to dive into the adventure with her. You’re ready to talk about a future outside of Shield and how you see your life in five, ten, fifteen years. You’re ready to love her eternally, because you know that you have since the moment she asked you to be her girlfriend. 

“I do. I especially like to think about you in a pair of overalls collecting eggs.” Your giggles pulled a smile over Maria’s features, completely ridding the looming tension that pulled at her eyebrows and replacing it with that lightness that only spring could create. “I do, Mia. I think about it all the time. I was just waiting for you to be ready. Are you? Ready, I mean.” 

Maria was always a concentrated speaker. She thinks fully and deeply about the conversations she holds and the responses she gives, especially to those she cares about personally. She’s extremely rash in her decisions that involve adventure, she’ll wake you up at four in the morning talking about racing the sunrise and finding the coast to watch it fully, but her words are always heedful. Nobody can believe that after so many years together you’ve never fought, but if they took the time to know Maria the way that you do, that wouldn’t be so hard to understand. She didn’t hesitate to nod her head at your question, though. She took no time to consider how she felt about your future. Even if she didn’t say it, she didn’t half to. Just by knowing Maria you know that this is something she’s been shifting over for months. The thought of her cementing your future in her mind before she dared to bring it up to you brought  a light smile over your lips. 

“Two kids. I know you said you wanted three when we first started talking, but I think we’d be perfect for two. Two little boys, not twins, but close enough in age that everybody who sees us stops to ask. We’d use the same donor for both of them, so they know that no matter what anybody tells them about having two moms, they know that they’re connected and they’re brothers.” Maria trails off, a soft smile on her face that you want to kiss away until she falls into a fit of giggles. Instead, you clutch one of your pillows to your chest, hugging it tightly and wishing it was her. 

“Two boys, huh?” You quirked a teasing eyebrow. “You want to be a boy mom, Maria Hill? Think you can handle all the wrestling matches and dirt?” 

“They’ll know better. We’ll teach them to take their shoes off before they come in from outside. I’ll wrestle with them. Clint was talking about these play couches Laura got the kids. We’ll get them for the boys, set them up on the floor so nobody gets hurt. But we’ll sit on the couch behind them and watch. We’ll kiss imaginary boo-boos and we’ll play dress up. We’ll teach them that it’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to need a hug. It won’t be like the way I was raised. They won’t hide their mistakes in fear of our reaction, and when they’re teenagers they’ll think we’re badass. I wasn’t ready to think about all of this before. I wasn’t ready to find out if I’d be just like my parents, but I’m ready now. I’m ready to start talking about everything, and buying a house. We can’t live in that apartment forever, I won’t let you live in that apartment forever. I can’t promise a picket fence life. I can’t say that I’m ready to leave my position entirely, but I am ready to start prioritizing our future the way that I prioritize the now.” 

You held onto every word that fell off of Maria’s lips and filled the silence of your bedroom so cautiously. Your eyes glimmered with tears that pool in your waterline, disrupting the image of her sat at her desk in front of a stack of papers and mission reports, and although unconventional to be having this conversation for the first time continents away from one another, it’s entirely perfect. She’s perfect. “Five year plan. We’ll find a house, we’ll start the process. I don’t need a picket fence life, Maria. I just need you.” 

A yawn pulled at your lips, nose scrunching as you snuggled deeper into her side of the bed. The time on your phone didn’t feel like an accurate depiction of the hours that had passed since you called her, but as the early hours dawned closer and closer to sunrise, you knew that eventually you would fall asleep, and when you woke up it would be a new day but the bed would still be lonely. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to her yet, you wanted to talk about the future until you were blue in the face and she was home by your side, but Maria never let you compromise your schedule. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Stay with me.” You whispered softly, eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered to the pressure of exhaustion behind your eyes. It had been a long three weeks of missing her, but the time apart only grew smaller each time you fell asleep. Even so, you didn’t want to fall asleep alone in a home that you share with her. Even if she couldn’t hold you, you wanted to fall asleep knowing that she was watching you like she did every night when she was here. “I just want to know that you’re here, at least partially.” 

You couldn't see Maria, but you knew that she was smiling at you, probably with the cap of her ridiculous Stark Industries pen between her teeth. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.” 

You smiled, nodding your head. “I love you, Mia.”  “I love you too, cariña.” You didn’t open your eyes to see her smile, but you could hear it in her voice, and only seconds later, you fell asleep knowing that the future you had always wanted was one step closer to fully being yours.

[meirimerens]

what are your thoughts on patho 1 vs 2? what aspects from each game better suit your preferences? your art and writing is magnificent i'm giving your brain a platonic kiss

omgggg so I've probably talked about this before but it's no surprise to the people that I'm A P1 Defender. She's my sweetie darling she's my most beloved. I Vastly prefer her over P2 in most points besides a few. as a list, in no particular order,

What I prefer of P1

the character designs for the vast majority of named NPCs, mostly the adults. I adore P1 Yulia and Eva, I basically never draw them as their P2 selves. I Pretend I Do Not See It. P1 Yulia is basically perfect and I will never forgive P2 for what they've done to her. they striped her of all her more andro features (same hair as dankovsky [the other character who has that haircut is Aspity, who's also very uh. Naked-Women-Minded], THE ONLY WOMAN OF THE ENTIRE CAST WEARING PANTS) and of her over lesbian lines. they withheld her line of being spoken of like an invert (Bachelor route), which is a line which To Me in combination with how she looks, how she Is with Eva, is a solidification of ⭐️🌷YEAH THATS A LESBIAN CHARACTER WE CANT REALLY USE THE L WORD⭐️🌷. Eva is also Only Ever P1 Eva to me. her p1 design Already Is orientalisant/orientalist visually and already Does imply a fantasm of The Other without looking like Toddler Who Got Into Mom's Craft Bin like she does in P2. Excited to see her in a dress for P3 though there's still hope. I prefer P1 Maria because her blue eyes make her unsettling in a way the warmth of the brown eyes she has in P2 does not, and her Peculiar dress gives her a magical aura that the more classic-constructed red dress of P2 does not. I prefer P1 Viktor with his equally unsettling firefly-green eyes. I prefer P1 Simon with his wizard's attire. I prefer P1 Anna with her tragic tightrope-walker attire that makes her stand out eerily. I prefer P1 Grief with his unsettling eyes and his garb that looks way more movable-into than his P2 cocoon. Makes him look way more like an active dangerous mouse-like thief. His P2 labia-collar coat got him looking so cozy and vulnerable [which to be fair vulnerable he becomes. just think of it now I'm realizing how that pussy collar looking like Damocles' sword around his neck prefigures the crushing hold of the inexpectedly-female Inquisitor. Okay I see how it is. Still prefers his p1 self] and also slow, molluskesque, very "hermit crab shell". I prefer p1 clara. I've mentioned before how her p1 self looks more believably like a child, her haircut very Jeanne d'Arcesque (and I fw Jeanne d'Arc), it gives her a youth which makes her vulnerability and fear believable and yet makes her Scariness that much more surprising. P2 Clara could shank me and I'd be like Saw that coming (even though I understandddd what they're doing with her #bald [sickness and monk]). I prefer P1 stakh's fit, all leather, I fit it suits him better as a follower of Isidor's teaching. I draw the twins equally as p1-looking than p2-looking but their p1 FACES, with ANDREY'S SCAR and their BUMP ON NOSE and UNIBROW means so much to me. I also prefer Peter's fit of p1. 50/50 on Andrey, I like his p1 knuckle rings & his p2 bandaids so I give him both lol. Also I prefer how Peter looks way more drunk in p1 because he's so much more red and has bloodshot eyes lol. I prefer capella's face and hair in p1 but MOSTLY based on her portrait. Like give her her waves. The fuck.

the interiors. P2 really fucking dropped the ball on the interiors. The overwhelming amount of rugs, patterns, colors that never quite match, it all made for a surreal, poisonous almost environment. The weird trees in the houses..... so so so sad. I also love p1 Farkhads Grave I love how it's surrounded by pillars with that ridge on top, looking like they're holding the grave back... so Prometheus Bound coded... loooove the writing on it too. Smilesssss

The music...... she's unmatcheddddd she's unparalleled. Whoever said "Half-Life meets Genghis Khan" I have no way of agreeing because I haven't played half-life (nor have i met genghis khan but it's never too late. I guess) but it's so true. Always fucking raving about the music. You hear a p1 OST and your ears perk up in the way p2 OST, bar a few, don't do for me. Andrei Kabak so good they didn't even have to change it #slay

A loooot of the characterization as well as character Bevahiors. I've already mentioned Eva and Yulia but Eva And Yulia AGAIN. I prefer p1 Anna, her underlying dangerosity (in no small part aided by her venomous-looking attire). Most of the characters are #weirder, more wordy, more opaque and occult in ways p2 lacks. The twins especially p2 truly deweirdified the twins a lot. Like bring back Peter's suicide attempt wailing over the blue flame. Waiting on p3 to bring this back. The threefold bullet line you wouldn't find thag in p2. That part of the Bachelor’s route where the Kain started bodyhopping. Bring that back in p3 or I will riot. Bachelor route again (they come to mind because I've been going over it for Fic Endeavors but that's an ongoing theme across the routes) where WOMEN CONSPIRED TO COVER LARA’S ASS DURING AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT TO SHE DIDNT GET IN TROUBLE. #WOMENSUPPORTINGWOMEN. Also laras assassination event. Bring that back in p3 or I am not even watching a playthrough of your game. (Jesting. Unless?)

There 3 last points indicate to me that p2 toned down a lot of stuff because it has the explicit goal to be more grounded. This makes sense with Burakh's affiliations; stripping down the houses of ornaments to show a more earthy/down-to-earth view of the events, stripping down the music of its Weirder sides for something again more "realistic" and down-to-earth, toning down the general weirdness of the people so the weirdness of the land shows through... etc. I understand it narratively and logically, but that don't mean I have to like it equally. Smiles.

now onto the stuff I do prefer of P2:

most of the children's character designs and general lore. Murky and Sticky barely change #alreadyperfect but I do love what they did with Khan, Notkin, Grace, Taya to a lesser extend (I miss her little curls soooo bad it's not even funny). I also really like the town NPCs (kids and adults). I also think their ages (13-16) fit more than the 10 of P1 — while p1 insisted on children So Young and yet So Bloodthirsty, I think their slight aging up in P2 is a pragmatization done right. it takes away from the So Young Yet So Brutal but it makes for a more compelling (to me) "teetering on the verge of adulthood [15 is historically an age where Responsibilities Come To You, and in the modern age it's still true to some extent [but age-appropriate Teenage responsibilities such as learning to drive, picking a line of study for your last years of high-school which will shape your future, etc] and yet wrestling with both terribly adult responsibilities and yet vulnerable like a small child". Also like. I Remember Being 15 In That Situation I Too Might Have Asked A Guy To Kill Someone. I believe it. I believe gang violence for 15.

As far as other character designs go, I don't mind Lara [elaborating below], I prefer Katerina's [i_play_pathologic_2_for_the_plot_🍈🍈👀💧.png. sorry I don't know what came over me], I like Aspity's anisocoria. Aglaya Lilich I Um Starts Fanning Myself. I also like p2 Burakh and Dankovsky, and typically draw them in these fits (fond of Burakh's sweater. Never-ending source of gay scenes also). Dankovsky keeps his p1 unibrow though you cannot make me take it away from him.

some new characterizations, most including the kids [cf above] but also I Like that the apple basket gang is a thing now. smiles. makes me happy. I don't mind Lara changed from her p1 self to her p2 more "girl next door" vibe, I think that crossed with an assassination attempt is kinda slay. I fucking love how aggro Rubin is in p2. Truly the Cain to Burakh’s Abel. smileeeesssss loves it sooooo much. Attack kill. even if I still go by p1 lore for him of Army previous guy + was about to be formally adopted by Isidor, I think crossed with his p2 beef it makes it even more compelling.

The herbs and their Finding mechanics. I prefer the variety of herbs of p2 and their designs, very lovely, and well. Love When It's Easier To Fucking Find Them Now Is It. Like hate to say it it makes more narrative sense too so. Don't even regret saying this.

The Abattoir. I love its redness. P2 Abattoir Inspires me way more than p1's does, in atmosphere, sounds, designs.

The Herb Brides. Hate to say it. You know I've bitched and bemoaned and grumbled at the treatment of the Brides #hater but listen. I live the variety of them in P2. They endlessly inspire me as One Might Have Noticed. I do like their movement of head when you try and talk to them, that knowing look they have. They have potential. They have potential. They have potential. They have potential.

the actual game mechanics lollll I think p2 does well with Burakhs Surgery mechanics. I also love the dice throw of midnight for tomorrow's infected, it keeps you on your toes, it genuinely despairs you, and you're directly responsible for most of them..... smilessssss the suffering and wickedness the evil the evil the wickedness. Equally, I like the "mind map" of the unfolding, it sometimes is really funny.

I like that Theodor Bastard is on the beat for the OST I fw Theodor Bastard

I am aware the list of things I prefer from P2 is numberably longer but it's more like.... of P1 I prefer Her Whole, in P2 I prefer bits and pieces of it which, in a better world, I could just inject into P1 to make a beautiful third game. P3: meiris version.

Thank You For Read...[sic] feeling the kiss in my mushy squishy wrinkly brain

[remiilla]

My OC Maria 🌷

I also made a speedpaint! Please check it out 😇

Music: Chouchou -- B612

[pardajaguar]

🔮✨️🦔🌷☆Shadow and Maria☆

[reidrum]

bimbo receptionist my beloved!!!!!!!!!!! i’m gonna scream i love them i love the way you write them i love the way spencer loves i love love it all

Spencer’s chest aches in a way he can’t pinpoint, a vulnerability spreading through him that he rarely allows himself to feel. He’s not used to people taking such gentle care of his anxieties, treating his quirks as something precious rather than burdensome. A small, quiet part of him wonders if he deserves this kind of thoughtfulness, this careful, intentional love you offer without hesitation.

like no baby loving you is so easy !!! i will sob they wrap my heart in the warmest blanket that i feel you personally heated up for me thank you

Sugar, Spice, Spencer's Advice - S.R

everyone expects spencer reid to fall for purely intellectual types, but what they don't know is your ability to remember his rambling lessons and your diligent googled research makes him feel irrationally turned on

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader warnings: established relationship, some suggestive content, brief mention of food-play (non-graphic, discussion only), spencer being protective, fluff af, spencer's negative outlook on sugar/food (super brief), teasing/banter, flustered spence wc: 1.4k request: here!

You’re happily licking at your ice cream cone, eyes soft with uncomplicated happiness, and Spencer thinks he’s becoming entirely too familiar with this feeling. It’s habitual. To observe you is like revisiting his favorite passage in a beloved book, each time discovering nuances he’s missed before.

He’d given in the instant your expression had turned imploring — big, pleading eyes, soft pout — your most effective weapon. Spencer has abandoned all pretense that he can resist your nightly sugar-driven rituals.

He’d pondered briefly the psychological undercurrents of your craving, but each theory usually ends up dissolving when he’s confronted by the smile you give him when he caves.

His attention drifts back just as your feet land on the dashboard. Spencer half-smiles at the sight of those slip-ons, your comfy choice through the entire day of painfully predictable romance movies. He was pretty sure he lost the plot somewhere around hour two — another mistaken identity plot twist, seriously? — but keeping track of said plot wasn’t really the point anyway. 

He’d watch paint dry if it meant hearing you laugh like that, but thankfully you usually pick slightly better entertainment. Usually.

Spencer reaches over instinctively, his hand finding its place on your thigh, patting twice for good measure.

“Hey, feet off the dash, please,” he says. “Airbags deploy faster than you think, and personally, I’m pretty attached to the current arrangement of your features.”

His mind trips over the calculation against the embarrassment of sounding like an overbearing parent. He’s not even your husband yet. Yet.

But you immediately drop your feet without complaint, settling into a position that looks decidedly safer. Spencer breathes a little easier. He gives your thigh a grateful squeeze, his thumb brushing back and forth just once in a wordless thank you.

You tuck your legs beneath you, body angled toward him, elbow planted on the center console, cheek resting in your palm. 

“My face appreciates you looking out for it,” you tease gently. “Always looking out for me actually. Is there anything else I do that’s, like, secretly super dangerous?”

Spencer’s eyes catch yours, and he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand from your thigh to sweep his thumb along the edge of your mouth, collecting the vanilla ice cream that’s smeared there. “As far as dangerous decisions go, I’d say your habit of leaving candles burning unattended ranks pretty high. One of these days you’re going to burn the whole place down, sweetheart.”

“But you said most fires from candles happen because of flammable stuff near them, not just leaving them burning,” you remind him sweetly, nose wrinkling with affection. “So really, as long as I keep things away from my candles, I’m totally safe. And I always listen to you about that.”

His heart flutters with messy pride and affection that makes him feel embarrassingly sentimental. Sure, conversations about Marcel Proust or string theory aren’t exactly your cup of tea (he’s pretty sure you’d turn your nose up at the mere thought), but there’s this distinctly genuine and wonderful way you navigate the world. 

You absorb everything he says — half-formed ideas, scattered facts, fleeting memories — in a way that weirdly puts eidetic memories to shame. 

It’s dizzying, actually, the way you’re smiling at him right now, effortlessly beautiful and clearly unaware that he’s suddenly acutely conscious of how his pulse is pounding. 

He loves you, he knows he does, deeply, and apparently by the way his face flushes hot and his breathing quickens, he’s more turned on by your quiet brilliance than he ever expected.

“Okay, so candles are covered,” he says with mock seriousness, “but what about all my advice on not talking to strangers or, I don’t know, not accepting free candy from mysterious vans? Are those making the cut too?”

“Come on, Spencer, you taught me better than that,” you say proudly. “I know all about risk assessment now, if someone seems sketchy or pushes too hard, it’s probably a danger sign. And,” you add with a satisfied smile, “that’s why you’re the only one allowed to take me for sweets. Want a bite?”

Spencer eyes the melting ice cream warily, the overly sweet scent doing nothing to tempt him, it’s essentially frozen sugar, after all, objectively terrible for him. The mental list of reasons to politely decline is endless.

But the knowledge that your lips have just been there sets off a chain reaction, desire eclipsing logic. Suddenly, he’s more than willing to abandon nutritional morals for the vague promise of an indirect kiss. Though, admittedly, he would much rather prefer the direct approach. But he’s fairly certain that running into a telephone pole would rank even higher risk wise than unattended candles or dashboard hazards. 

So, instead, he ducks his head, taking a careful bite, instantly regretting it when the sticky sweet cold paints his cheek.

Your giggles ripple, making him smile sheepishly as you shift closer. He expects your thumb, mirroring his earlier gesture, but then your lips brush against his cheek, your tongue catching the vanilla drip. Every ounce of rationality deserts him into one helplessly smitten mess.

“You know, saliva actually cleans better than wiping,” you announce thoughtfully. “So, you’re welcome, Spence.”

He’s half certain he’s never mentioned anything about saliva enzymes, but then again, he’s so thoroughly distracted by you most of the time he might’ve. It sounds exactly the kind of oddly specific detail he’d share.

“Okay,” he manages, unable to suppress a smile. “Where exactly did you learn that one?”

“I googled it.” You tilt your head. “Like, I thought food-play might be fun to try with you?” You shrug lightly, expression utterly innocent as if discussing something far less suggestive. “But then all these articles said it can get kinda gross and messy, and honestly, Spencer, I realized you’d probably just stress about germs and clean-up, and there’s no way I’d enjoy it if you weren’t totally relaxed and happy.”

Of all the things he anticipated you might say tonight, casually mentioning food play research was not on the list. It lands like a dropped grenade, exploding into fragments of thoughts he cannot possibly hope to piece together.

His cheeks burn hot as images — sticky and indecent images — flood his mind without permission. Vanilla dripping slowly down your collarbone, lips parted in invitation, eyes sparkling with that innocent curiosity he adores.

But beneath this sudden rush of desire lies something even softer because he can almost see it — your earnest expression as you scroll through webpages, considering all the possible complications, all the ways he might react. 

Spencer’s chest aches in a way he can’t pinpoint, a vulnerability spreading through him that he rarely allows himself to feel. He’s not used to people taking such gentle care of his anxieties, treating his quirks as something precious rather than burdensome. A small, quiet part of him wonders if he deserves this kind of thoughtfulness, this careful, intentional love you offer without hesitation. He wants to believe it, wants to let himself trust it completely, but the tender astonishment that grips him right now makes it hard to think straight.

“You know, angel, next time just come straight to me, okay? I promise my answers are better, and less traumatizing, than whatever you’ll find online.”

“Well, don’t blame me when you start getting texts at two a.m. about my random questions.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we both know that if my phone goes off at two a.m., you’re probably not looking for statistics.”

You smile at that.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” you concede. “But honestly, Spence, I did read this thing about late-night dopamine spikes or whatever and —,”

He doesn’t think. He can’t think. The moment the car is in park, his body moves on its own, leaning across the console, hands gently cupping your face as he silences your adorable scientific ramble. He’s never felt such urgency, such an intense, overwhelming need to kiss someone as he does right now. It’s impulsive, reckless, completely out of character, and yet he feels no regret. Only relief. Only you.

For once in his analytical life, Spencer lets instinct win, savoring your lips and the small, surprised sound you make against him. He hopes you hear in his kiss everything he can’t yet put into words.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[cherryblogss]

oi maria cherryzita da silva jr from tumblr 😛🌹

eu tava pensando em uma coisa aki por nenhuma razão em particular e gostaria de 🌹🌹🌹🌹te pedir para 🌷🌺🌼 desenvolver uma coisinha de 🌺🌻🌹💐 rafa federman para a sua amiga 🌸💐🌺🌺 camilets da silva 🌷💐🌺🌻🌸🌼🌹 sobre ele ser o namorado 100% pau mandado fofinho e carinhoso na frente dos outros que quem vê pensa nossa que bonitinhos ele deve ser soca fofo e depois de uma festa por exemplo no momento que chega no carro bota ela pra mamar sabeeeh essas coisas simples da vida 🌸⭐️🌺🍁🌍🌻🍃💫🌳🌈🌟💧☀️ ou dedadinha fenomenal pique dj david guetta mets alok num festival de música eletrônica em ibiza enfim minha diva querida fica a seu critério a peripécia com rafa soft dom que é metidinho na hora do sexo (aquele edit que no primeiro clipe ele tá falando que mudaram o figurino dele pq ele tava🖕🏻DEMASIADO 🖕🏻BUENO 🖕🏻🖕🏻filho🖕🏻da puta🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻) e que faz um dirty talk baixinho ofegante digno de mudar a hidrografia brasileira de tão molhada que deixa a 🐱ENFIM vey beijos amiga bom domingo

oi camilete creads da costa👋🏻 estarei te mandando a minha nota de repúdio por esse cenário que vc fez a minha cabeça fabricar🖕🏻 eu morro demaiss quando um cara todo calminho namora e é freak in the sheets😈

also aqui tem o link do edit pra quem ficou em dúvida 🫦 (o narigao veyyyyyyyy)

e me julguem!!!! mas ele ia sim falar português com a lobinha br dele viu☝🏻 com aquele sotaque gostosinho ownnnnn

vms a putaria, gatinhas:

Você já estava meio zonza pela quantidade de bebidas que tomou, estava recostada no corpo do seu namorado que fazia um carinho na sua costas e cabelos, os braços grandes te envolviam enquanto te observava atentamente conversar com as suas amigas. Rafael não conhecia quase ninguém nessa festa, só veio porque você pediu e não se importava de ficar grudadinho contigo desde que passassem tempo juntos.

Quando você começou a namorar ele, suas amigas riam e diziam que não ia durar, falavam que o jeito calminho e super afetuoso com certeza te deixaria entediada algum dia, até tiravam graça que ele deveria ser um tédio na cama. Mal elas sabiam o que te aguardava quase todas as noites.

Apesar de tudo, vocês estavam juntos há 2 anos e com certeza iram durar muito, eram a metade um do outro e os dias sempre eram melhores com ele ao seu lado.

"Rafa, pega mais um drink pra mim, porfi?" Pergunta com os olhinhos piscando para o seu namorado que rapidamente assente e vai atrás do seu pedido.

Suas amigas trocam risinhos ao acompanharem ele se distanciar depois de deixar um beijinho na sua testa.

"Aqui, princesa, mas é seu último, tá? Daqui a pouco vamos embora." Ele diz com uma expressão preocupada e logo volta a te abraçar. Rafael te conhecia como ninguém, então sabia que você já estava ficando cansada e pela forma que sua mãos brincavam com os dedos dele também sentia outras coisas.

Após a última rodada de bebidas, você se despede com Rafa te segurando pela cintura e com a sua bolsa no ombro. Ele achava adorável o seu jeitinho bobo depois de umas bebidas, você começava a falar de tudo e de nada com uma seriedade admirável, ria das suas palavras enquanto te leva até o carro quase te carregando.

Ele abre a porta do passageiro e te arruma no banco, mas sorri quando seus braços não largam o pescoço dele.

"Não vai, Rafa." Diz dengosa com um biquinho.

"Eu vou estar bem aqui, bebita, do seu ladinho, tá?" Responde e se aproxima para te dar um selinho tirando calmamente as suas mãoszinhas do corpo dele.

Move sua cabeça acompanhando o homem alto dar a volta até o lado do motorista, suas pernas inquietas se remexendo e subindo um pouco a saia. Rafa entra, se ajustando no banco e olhando ao redor se tudo estava certo, você morde os lábios observando cada movimento e sentindo sua calcinha virando uma bagunça molhada.

No momento que ele ia ligar o carro, você solta um choramingo dramática que faz o argentino te encarar preocupado, mas logo a expressão se converte em uma maliciosa ao ver os claros sinais do que se tratava a sua aflição. Você era extremamente previsível, as provocações na festa acariciando os dedos dele, a saia quase expondo a sua calcinha e o rostinho em uma carinha tristonha só indicavam uma coisa.

"Diz pra mim, o que você quer?" Pergunta com um olhar arrogante, se fazendo de desentendido.

"Saudades de ti, papi." Responde se aproximando do pescoço dele para esfregar o rosto na barbinha rala do local.

"Mas eu passei o dia contigo, princesa." Rafa fala em um tom condescendente e inclinando a cabeça.

"Saudades de ter você me fazendo carinho." Suas mãos agarram as deles, apertando os dedos longos e brincando com o anel de compromisso que ele tinha igual ao seu.

"Carinho onde?" Questiona te imitando com um biquinho com uma falsa expressão de piedade.

Timidamente, encaminha uma mão dele para o meio das suas pernas e esfrega os dígitos na extensão da sua calcinha encharcada. Solta um miadinho e agarra o punho do homem quando ele continua os movimentos sozinho.

Rafa pressiona o dedo médio entre suas dobrinhas, acariciando de cima para baixo o pontinho inchado. Com cada passada do dígito, o tecido ficava mais molhado e choramingos ofegantes com o nome dele saiam da sua garganta.

Com um grunhido, Rafael afasta sua calcinha para o lado e expõe a sua bucetinha melecada com dois dedos, afastando os lábios maiores até expor a pele corada e molhinha, ele morde os lábios vendo a sua entradinha piscar constantemente. Levando a outra mão ao meio das suas coxas, massageia seu clitóris em círculos com dois dedos, brincando com o nervo inchado e encurtando a distância para enfiar o rosto, suspirando extasiado ao inalar os resquícios do seu perfume. Rafael esfrega o nariz grande na sua pele, distribuindo beijinhos enquanto te escuta pedir por mais.

"Quer meus dedos dentro dessa bucetinha carente, hum?" Murmura após chupar o lóbulo do seu ouvido.

Você assente desesperada, remexendo os quadris buscando mais fricção, suas mãos vão para o cabelo escuro, puxando os fios ao sentir a ponta dos dedos acariciando a sua entrada.

"Quantos, amor?" Ele pergunta, se afastando para encarar o seu rosto franzido e olhinhos nublados de prazer. "Dois? É suficiente pra esse buraquinho guloso?"

Sua cabeça balança novamente enquanto murmura sim várias vezes. Portanto, o seu namorado enfia a pontinha dos dedos, colocando e tirando na medida que mete mais e mais, ele penetrava devagarinho, saboreando o calor e o aperto molhado.

Ele segura seu pescoço, admirando a sua boca entreaberta soltar miadinhos e o seus olhos semicerrados. Logo, Rafael iniciou um ritmo frenético, socando os dedos longos no seu canalzinho e sujando-os com o seu melzinho que vazava a cada estocada. Você emite um gritinho agudo quando ele curva os dedos e pressiona a palma da mão no seu grelinho.

"Tá gostoso, é?" Rafa te provoca, rindo com o seu desespero ao passar as mãos por onde alcançava no corpo dele. A voz no seu ouvido te deixa mais sedenta ainda, subindo e descendo as mãos pelo torso malhado por baixo da camisa, por fim, parando no cinto dele, roçando o dorso de uma mão no volume da virilha, massageando por cima do tecido. "Amo essa buceta apertada, porra."

Rafael sobe a outra mão um pouco molhada para abaixar um lado da sua blusa e apertar seu peito, ele geme ao bulinar o biquinho empinado e sacudir a carne macia. Os dedos dele te enlouqueciam pela forma que ele acelerava e em seguida parava para focar em mexer com o seu clitóris.

Sua boca saliva ao retirar o pau babado de pré-gozo da cueca do argentino, sua mão se fecha ao redor da cabecinha, bombeando enquanto espalha o líquido com o polegar. Sua mão subia e descia no ritmo que ele te fodia com os dedos, girava o punho ao cuspir na pontinha e lubrificar o membro.

"Ra-rafa, eu quero na boca também, a-amor." Geme voltando a olhar para as orbes azuis que brilhavam de tesão.

"Quer chupar meu pau também, gatinha? Faminta por tudo que eu te dou, né." Fala, te enforcando levemente ao ouvir suas súplicas e agarra sua nuca te empurrando contra o corpo dele.

Você se ajusta para não atrapalhar a movimentação no meio das suas pernas, então abaixa a cabeça, dando selinhos na parte exposta do peitoral cabeludo, descendo sua cabeça até chegar na ereção.

"Levanta a perninha, amor." Você obedece o homem e dobra a perna direita, apoiando o pé no banco de couro, consequentemente mudando o ângulo da penetração o que te faz arfar.

Lambe a cabecinha e depois desliza a língua pelas veias proeminentes, gemendo manhosa quando os dedos bombeiam mais forte suas paredes, então suga a glande rosinha, punhetando o resto do comprimento enquanto Rafa segura seus cabelos em um rabo de cavalo frouxo.

"Que boquinha gostosa, cariño." Ele grunhe impulsionando os quadris contra o seus lábios ao mesmo tempo que massageia seu clitóris mais rápido, te fazendo gemer mais alto ao redor do pau que alargava sua boca. "É só uma cachorrinha desesperada pra ter todos os seus buracos cheinhos."

Sons molhados da sua garganta e buceta preenchiam o interior do carro. Ambos se tocavam com movimentos desengonçados com a chegada do orgasmo, você chupava e se engasgava com as investidas, levando a outra mão para massagear as bolas inchadas. Rafa tinha enfiado mais um dedo, socando os três dígitos no seu pontinho sensível dentro da sua buceta e xingava ao observar atentamente o seu buraquinho arrombado encharcar a mão dele.

"Quero sentir essa bucetinha gozando nos meus dedos quando eu te encher de leitinho na boca."

Com essas palavras, ele empurra sua cabeça até engolir todo o comprimento ao sentir suas paredes apertando-o com as contrações e ouvir seus gemidos abafados ao redor do pau, com a sensação eletrizante do seu orgasmo, Rafa grunhe seu nome e solta jatos de porra na sua garganta te forçando a engolir cada gotinha do que ele te dava.

só queria a sorte de um amor tranquilo

[feppepyro]

fem!fortress ( @missvonivory ed. )

aka me and my gf were goofing around with our hcs for the gals and they came up with such brilliant ones that i had to show everybody .... no pyro bc in our perfect world it's agender so they don't count

scout/jenny: White Boston Girl™ who was raised with 7 older sisters by her single dad. a bit too silly sometimes and she gets excited wayyyy too quickly for her own good. a certified Speed Runner and she loves baseball with all her heart

soldier/john: her name is actually joan but shes illiterate so she thinks its john lmao. THE MOST REAL AMERICAN PATRIOT RRAHHHH she's kinda stupid but she does her best trust me

demowoman/tavia: bloody chaotic scottish demowoman!!!! she is unstoppable on the battlefield and you better believe that she WILL explode you even if she has only one eye. she is an alcoholic and she loves a good ol' bottle of scrumpy. an amazing and passionate friend who can be quite rational when shes not too drunk.... which is rare

heavy/masha (maria): tough siberian mountains made this woman into who she is today. as the oldest daughter with three younger brothers with her old father she LOVES her family <3333 she is a Heavy Weapons Lady. her muscles are CRAZY

engineer/dolly (dolores): being a short texas born and raised lady in STEM is tough let me tell you but dolly conagher is a very special woman!!!! she has 11 phds in engineering and she is a Big Deal. a stubborn and determined genius

medic/lucia: mad scientist.... she is unhinged. thats why she lost her medical license 😭😭😭 she means well and she cares about her team but she can be absolutely horrifying with her deranged willingness to experiment on people. but oh well does it come handy when its about their enemy team

sniper/mundee: tired autistic woman. may seem calm and collected on the surface but she has a hidden sarcastic and bizarre sense of humor lmao.... and yes she pisses in jars. what about it. considers herself a lonely wolf but secretly appreciates company of friends

spy: a classy madam with fancy taste. thinks her daughter jenny is too much to handle. spy is a pro at being a snobby french and killing people. truly a lady with manners of all times

bonus!!!!

mister pauling: a manager twink who really tries to get these girls in order because they would be too unstoppable unless there is someone who would calm their energy down a bit. he is gay and lowkey has a gay panic when he sees mashas younger brother

fun trivia tidbits :

masha's younger bros are yan , bronislav and zakhar (zhanna ! bc there's no male equivalent for names that start with zh in russian) . according to the au instead of falling in love with john zakhar just develops a wacky bloodthirsty friendship with her but finds himself weirdly charmed by mr pauling . the homosexual tension in that submarine was crazy

sniper is a trans woman 🌷🌷🌷

you wanna know another reason why zakhar doesn't date john (besides goofy yaoi's sake) ¿ boots n bombs are canon in this universe . tavia kisses her every day

[sweetyluvs]

Hi!!! i hope ur doing well, remember to take care of urself💕💘can i please request 7 with ellie where she’s still been living in jackson for maybe a little over a yr & a half, and she and reader are like 17 and they aren’t really friends but like eachother secretly and reader is a medic trainee, and is the one to fix up ellie? tysm!

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

ellie williams x fem! reader - drabble

hi! thank you for requesting. I honestly i appreciate your words! i don’t really like how i wrote this, but I hope you do! but anyways, enjoy🌷💕

tags - blood, bruises, slight/medic! reader, Soft! ellie, lowkey ooc! ellie, make out, remind me if i forgot any!!

Your eyes scanned the opening wooden gates of the entrance to Jackson, watching the most recent patrol come back. Ellie was apart of that patrol, you weren't exactly friends with her, but you two had a few conversations. the first time you spoke, She was funny, very nervous, red faced, sarcastic, but, overall, rather kind. she was your age, back when you were 15, and as such, your parents had urged you to make her feel welcomed since she had only been there for a few months.

It had been a little over a year and a half that she'd been staying in Jackson with Joel, and yet your parents are still continuously urging you to befriend her; even though you both have mutual friends. You don't know what your parents psycho-crazy obsession with you befriending ellie is, but you didn't exactly have a direct issue with it. besides the constant nagging. but what you hadn’t expected, was to feel an all too familiar pounding in your chest. you hadn’t expected to fall for Ellie, and now you had to live with the feelings.

Your name was called back to the Medical house, asking if you could assist in bandaging a quick cut before the patrol comes in for an injury check. you accepted, rushing over.

"Hello," you smile down to the little girl sitting in the chair, her cheeks stained with tears. "how'd this happen?" you question, eyes moving to the small scrape on her pointer finger.

"i-i was playing and-and i fell and hurt my finger," she says through light cries. You smiled sympathy, reaching over for some disinfectant and a bandage. "oh, no. well, luckily it's not bad. l'll just put some of this stuff," you hold up the disinfectant, watching as the little girls blue eyes snap to it.

"on it, and it'll make it feel much, much better." you announce, nodding your head with the girls upon her approval.

You put a small amount of the disinfectant cream on her finger gently, laughing lightly as she let out a dramatic flinch. she watched carefully as you than took the bandaid and wrapping it carefully around her finger.

"there, all better." the little girl smiles, her cheeks rosy. “thank you!” she grins, jumping off from her seat at the medical table and rushing to her mom, showing her the bandage on her hand. you sent a friendly smile to the mother, earning one in return before loud voices flooded the room.

You spun on your heal, hair moving lightly as your eyes scanned the small group of people.

Jesse, Dina, Ellie, Joel, Tommy and Maria, the big group that all, somehow, had connections to each other. You let out a sigh, preparing yourself to treat the ones who are actually hurt.

you glanced to the other doctor, seeing as how she was busy, you decided to take initiative. you walked up to them, nervously, and caught their attention.

"hi, if you are wounded please come with me," you interrupted politely, shoving down the nervous bubble in your tummy. "and if you aren't, i'm going to have to ask you to leave." Tommy smiled, patting your shoulder. "alright, you heard her ya'll, let's head out." he announced, wrapping his arm around his brothers shoulder, Maria rolling her eyes at the action, following after the two. Jesse and Dina not far behind.

you turned to the only remaining person; Ellie. she seemed fine, only light specks of blood you knew weren't hers littered on her cheek. you sent her a friendly smile before motioning for her to follow you. She did, tripping over her untied shoe laces shortly before stuttering after you.

You offered her to sit down in a private room, closing the curtains as to not disturb the other wounded.

“How was your patrol today?” you questions easily, fixing up some more disinfectant and some bandages, along with other supplies. “uh— it was good.. you know, the usual..” she says, voice crackling lightly before she clears her throat. “how was your day?”

you smiled at her question, even though she couldn’t see it. “It was okay, thank you. I’m glad to hear your patrol didn’t go terribly wrong.” ellie huffed, nodding her head. “me too. Tommy and Joel’s was bad the other day.”

“i heard about that. Joel came in here with a big gash on his arm. had to stich it up for him. hows he doing, by the way?” you turn on your heal to face her, seeing the way she snapped her staring green eyes to the floor quickly, making you fight a small grin.

“uh— he’s good. he was saying how when you stitched him up it didn’t hurt and you did a ‘very professional job.’” she quotes, and you crack a laugh; missing how her eyes stare at the details of your smile. “I’m glad he thought so.” you met her eyes and she went red. “where are your injuries?” you move on, watching as she shakes her head to, most likely, clear her head. “uh— on my knees.”

you nod, approaching her with your prepared supplies. You get on your knees, missing how ellie’s eyes blow wide and cheeks spew with the cherry blossom color of flush. “do you mind?” you ask softly, hands reaching for the bottom of her jeans to roll them up. She’s completely silent for a moment before she stutters out. “u-uh no, nope. go ahead.”

you huff a laugh, rolling up her pants. Her skin was rather pale on her legs, most likely due to wearing jeans most of her days out in the sun. The pants rolled above , revealing a few nasty cuts and scrapes. “ouch.” you grimace, reaching for the disinfectant. “how’d this happen? did you fall?”

Ellie was so entranced by seeing you bending down by her legs, your words almost didn’t make her ears. She blinked comedically, nodding her head although you couldn’t see it. “Y-yeah. Had a bunch of infected running after me and jesse. we had to crawl into this small space and once we came out i slipped.. and fell on the ground.” she embarrassingly admitted, face now rosy from the humiliation. “hey, at least these aren’t bad. A few weeks and you’ll be good as knew.” you affirmed, finally gently wrapping the bandage around her. you could feel her lightly shaking, but you blamed it on the chilly autumn air.

you finished up and moved on your knees to get to her other leg, rolling up her jeans— this time you were met with a massive, newly forming bruise alongside a slice.

“oh, wow.” you whispered, and ellie shuttered. “This looks really painful. Don’t worry, you got me.” you joked, giggling at ellie’s nervous laugh. You reached for the ice pack, halting lightly.

ellie noticed, brow raising. “what happened?” you looked up to her, and something about seeing you do so sent her heart into cardiac arrest. “well, you can’t really put bandaids or anything on bruises, so when i was little my mom would..” you cut off, looking down and squinting, contemplating your words. Ellie continued to look at you, a growing knot in her throat.

you placed down the ice pack beside your knee, scooting a little closer to ellie’s and gently placing both your hands on either side of her knee to avoid her bruise. You caught onto how she became a little more shaky, her breaths becoming lightly more loud.

you bent your neck forward, you lips meeting her bruise. You stayed like that for a few seconds, feeling ellie stiffen under your touch. You pulled away with a light ‘puck’.

you blinked a few times, moving your fingers around her wound gently before removing your hands. You looked up, and her auburn green eyes were staring at you wide; shock, along with something else you didn’t know, present in her pupils. Her lips were lightly parted, face redder than any tomato you’ve ever seen.

“she’d kiss it better.” you whispered, almost in a trance from looking to her eyes. You’ve seen how beautiful her eyes were, the green swirling in them like a forest of beauty; the colors bringing out her auburn hair and cute spotted cheeks.

your eyes refused to look from hers, it was almost scary how much you couldn’t help but look. A breaking bottle from the wall beside you snapped you out of your trance, whipping your eyes down to the ice pad.

“um.. you can ice it for the next few days to help it heal faster.” you mumbled, your voice suddenly evaporating.

you stood from your knees, avoiding Ellie’s staring eyes and the blush on your cheeks while reaching out for her to take the ice pack.

but, she doesn’t. your arm is continuously outstretched, waiting. when her hand never takes what you offered, you hesitantly turn back to her.

oh god.

the look in her eyes matched yours when you saw her. the love swirling in her pupils, patches of admiration and compassion flooding them; want and desire.. you saw yourself in the reflection, and before you knew it— you’d tossed the ice pack to the floor— hands reaching for ellie’s face as you pushed your lips on hers.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, shock flooding her body for only a second before her lips desperately tried to taste yours more and more. You stepped impossibly closer, standing between her now spread legs. The kiss was innocent, yet desperate; unsaid words spilling out of you through your lips on one another’s. Her hands were mid air for a few moments, unsure of where to go before they find an awkward place on your elbows, pulling you closer.

ellie’s lips dig into yours, sounds of your mouth on hers filling the silent room rather loudly. Gosh, you knew this was unprofessional, but you couldn’t exactly stop.

you pushed yourself against her, allowing her hands to slide from your elbows down to your waist, grabbing your shirt. you hummed into the make out, turning your head to the left to get a better angle of the kiss. your tongue had just began to meet hers for the first time when your body’s need for oxygen had never upset you as much as it had now, ushering you to pull back as you took in a large inhale— Panting as the line of saliva disconnected between you and ellie. she was panting too, her face somehow even more red, hands still on your waist as you removed yours from her face to wipe your lips.

suddenly, what you’d done hit you like a truck, and you basically flew out of her grasp.

“god— i’m so sorry, i-i don’t know what just happened! one second i was there then i kissed you and—”

You were cut off once again when she stood up and shut you up by placing a softer kiss to your lips, the small action making you stare at her.

“it’s okay— i.. i liked it.” she said, having a hard time meeting your eyes. “i like you.”

as though time had stopped, you listend as she confessed and you saw heaven.

“what?”

“i.. like you.”

you laughed a little, watching as a confused look crossed her face. “i like you, too, ellie.” now it was her turn to be surprised, although you would’ve guessed she knew by the fact you just made out with her.

she laughed along with you, blush coating your cheeks at the nervous confessions you both had admitted to.

“you definitely kissed me better,” Ellie teased, her voice shy and nervous, but confident.

you rolled your eyes lightly. “shut up, dork.” you pulled her closer, latching your lips to hers again.

[wandasaura]

𝓈𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔

summary — a collection of spring inspired fics for the softest marvel women

prompts

NATASHA ROMANOFF — parts will be added as written

🌷 gold thats in your eyes [ 2.8k ]

prompt | 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚜

MARIA HILL — parts will be added as written

🌞 i cant promise picket fences [ 2k ]

prompt | 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜, 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

🌞 to help you through ( coming soon)

prompt | 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚡 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

KATE BISHOP — parts will be added as written

🌱 this is what it feels like ( coming soon )

prompt | 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 (𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚝𝚌) 𝚡 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

[pureomi]

TEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEH HI RIKKAAAA🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 （＾ν＾）! u remind me of this song

SAKUUU are you inside of my head?!!! i absolutely LOVEEEEE the marias 😓🤍🌷‼️ THIS IS SUCH A BIG COMPLIMENT LUV U!!

you remind me of this song!