#my year round mantra

[blondebrainpowered]

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town, 1970

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dad!Simon who insisted you go on the vacation, because of course he can handle his baby girl and his six year old (almost six, but Ollie rounds up)

Simon who knew he had it in the bag....

for about two hours

Simon who made bagels for dinner; wassss this close 🤏to making Ollie eat dirt because WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don't like bagels now you were begging for them in the store!

Simon who made it about forty hours before he gave him and called Johnny

Simon who had no idea why Ollie was being so gosh darn annoying

Simon who had previously made a bet with Price that he wouldn't need help so therefore he would rather die than call Price even though Ollie idolizes his 'grandfather'

''s Johnny, missed ya but leave a message at the lil' beep."

"John MacTavish I swear to god if you don' call me back in ten minutes I will personally post thos' pictures of ya in Afgan."

two minutes later-

"ya know that's a real low blow-"

"I need you to take Oliver to th' park- Tessie isn't goin to sleep with him 'roun."

"Call the capn, he's closer to ya."

"I will not do that."

"Ugh, fine- lemme tell my girl then'll be there in twenty."

Simon who told Oliver to behave for his uncle and then happily sent them away- which finally he would be able to put the exhausted newborn to sleep

Simon was finally able to doze off on the sofa, the baby happily snoozing away on his chest and everything seemed perfect with the world

"MISTER RILEY UNCLE JOHNNY IS IS-HES-" The thundering slam of the door being swung open not only woke up Simon but the baby who aptly began to sob to the sudden change of pace, Oliver however did not care "UNCLE JOHNNY SUCKS."

Uncle Johnny told Ollie not to kick the ball into the river

Simon who is flabbergasted because even Johnny looked shook to his core, sure they had been at the park for about five hours but like-???

John MacTavish...brought down .... by Simon's six year old

Simon who, after ten minutes of the baby screaming for their mother and refusing to take their bottle with disgruntled wails of pain and Ollie so tired he can't think straight so he's also a sobbing and angry disaster and Johnny's just standing there by the door waiting for answers and everything is so loud-

"Capn?"

"Oh! Hi, sweetheart," John's wife answered the landline and he could hear her voice call for her husband, "Hi, how are you and lil' ones?"

Simon looked at Ollie who was currently in time out for stealing his sisters binkie for the tenth time, "Not great."

"O-"

"Simon." Price's voice cut in and it took about five seconds to get everything account for, "Ya already called Johnny right?"

"Yessir."

"Did you try Kyle?"

"No sir, he's on his honeymoon."

'"Ah-that's right, that's right."

Silence

"Sir I would like your help."

"Ha! Knew it! Alrighty, missus and I'll be there in...i dunno- you boys hungry? She made that-honey whatcha make?" indistinct conversation, "Ma'am said it didn't matter, she'll bring it anyway. Forty minutes?"

Simon looked at Johnny, who was on 'keep ollie in said time out' picking up the kid whenever he would try and run off. "Can you make it twenty, sir?"

Simon and Johnny who, out of habit, stood at attention as soon at the captain let himself into the house

Simon who looked a bit worse for wear, even with his non existant sleep scheulde in the military he had never looked so fatigued

Simon who had the baby out of his arms by Price's wife within two minutes of them being there

Simon who loves his son, he loves him (internal mantra) but he is making him look bad to his captain so the little twerp better get his act together.

"Riley."

"Yessir."

"How long is your block?"

"Two kilometers around."

"Two laps."

faltering silence through the house, Simon stared at the captain as he helped Ollie tie his sneakers by the door. The silence did mean Tessie had finally fallen asleep but he was- "I'm sorry?"

"Two laps, you, Johnny, and Oliver." Price looked to the kid, who looked more angry at the world than anything else, "Go. Dinner will be ready when you get back."

Simon was about to argue but Ollie beat him to it, "I don't want to run."

"You don't want to run?"

Oliver seemed a bit taken back, "No. So I'm not going to."

"Okay. You can clean the entire house- including your sisters nappy's, for a week, yeah?"

A pause.

"Fine, i'll go on the stupid run."

Simon who might as well be walking with the pace Oliver chose to keep

Johnny who took off sprinting because lord knew that man was starving and Mrs. Price's food was heaven on earth

Simon who sat down on the side of the road when the little guy was out of breath

Simon that mostly ran in silence until Ollie broke it

"Why did mom leave?"

huh?

"What?"

"Mom she-she just...she left us, wh-"

"Whoa-whoa whoa, mum didn't leave-mum didn't leave us wh-whoa, Olls," he had collapsed to his knee when the boy started to speak just to look at him in the eyes and he tried to read the boys expression, "Mum would never leave you, she loves you so much."

"Then where did she go?? Why didn't she say goodbye?"

"She's with her friends, and her flight left 'fore you woke up, Olls. Laddie, she wouldn't leave you."

Simon who had called you, even though there was time difference as everyone was sitting down to eat dinner

"oh...wow the gang's back together," You grumble as you rub your eyes, having been dead asleep, only for the camera angle to change suddenly and it was just a close up angle of your son's face, "Hi baby."

"Mom guess what Uncle Johnny did."

"EY, LET'S NOT TELL YER MOM BOUT THAT."

"Hey mom?" The boy was easily distracted and then looked down at the phone again.

"Yeah baby?"

"Never go on away again, dad said so."

You stay silent for a moment, blinking, because in all three years you and Simon had been together Ollie had never referred to him as 'dad' or anything remotely close. "Your...right, yeah-I'm pretty bored here anyway."

Simon, who was fine with you going on little getaways just not anymore how dare you try and leave him alone

"You sure it's okay if I stay a few more days?"

With a short laugh he looks over the living room, where Johnny and Olls were fast asleep watching some cartoon he didn't know the name of while John and His wife had chosen to stay in the guest room for the night. It would hell if you stayed for a few more days.

"Of course, luv, I got the boys an' Tessie needs to learn who they are anyway."

"I guess. Okay, the ride is here. I love you."

"I love you more."

(annnnway that's it <333 any comments you wanna leave or anything like that makes my day!)

[sleepy-fiction]

Got a crush- got a crush- Crush you all beneath me. ⚗️

Jinx x F!Reader SMUT

3k WORDS

tgs: intense violence, erotic asphyxiation, water sports, bdsm, knife play, powerplay, masochist reader, oral, cunnilingus, sexual repression, religious terms/oppressive religious language, reader is shit and pathetic its lovely

syn: Jinx spares you before your death, the adrenaline, the ecstasy, its euphoric. You re-emerge bright-eyed like the first oracle of a God. Only this time, you want to eat God's cunny, and she'll let you.

an: hii err questioning myself with this one wow. this takes place in act 2 of arcane s2, jinx is rumored to be older bc of a possible time skip between act 1 & 2, but jinx is early 20s in this fic. I wanted to write something freakalicious and get back in touch with my weird side. mildly proofread

Smeech's gang had been your home since you were little. You were born into it, your parents' loyal followers, devout, and strict as they came. The rules were engraved into your brain, defined like the Old Testament. You were linear, closed-minded, and point. Your parents died in the battled post silco. Your neighbors, the other kids. The gang's numbers were dwindling, if not by death, then by them abandoning the cree for others. And the years went by. Your silent, dormant hatred for Jinx muddled up.

It continued until her little revolution, where she gained her little blue headed cult following. You'd be lying if you say a part of you wasn't swooned. But your revenge called for more.

What they called "Safety". No, it was nothing but plain blameless sin.

And you were put on this earth to eradicate it.

So it only came natural after Smeech's disassembly, for the gang to disemble themselves as well. Like a ghost town, you found yourself being the only righteous one holding up the banner. And if A^2 + B^2 = C^2, you were going after the women responsible for it.

No.

THE woman responsible for it all.

Jinx.

Blue eyed, blue braided, soon to be blue bellied, Jinx.

Jinx was a flithy mongrel, poisoning Zaun from the inside out. Her almost physiological poison bubbled out of its bloodied cauldron and frothed onto the deep floors of Zaun. Like a thick and heavy smoke blinding the ground, sucking the souls out of sinners, and blinding even the most powerful. Tempting, and as small as an ewe lamb, yet brewing and seizing like an unruly urchin. Baring pretty pale hips, milky white skin smothered in tattoos. And those eyes. Those round doe eyes.

They kept you awake at night.

Tempting.

They made you shudder.

With the bloodlust you had been building for weeks, weeks until the day your holy vengeance struck from the skies. With the last remaining loyal souls with nothing to live for, other than the fragments of Smeech's impressive legacy.

Yet why.

How.

How did things end this way.

Your body seized the moment your very own blades, the one you fantasized about taking the life of Jinx, was twisted deep into your belly. Your eyes flashed white, your gasp deep and profound, your balance suddenly no longer mattering to you anymore. The surprise attack was going well, well, until Jinx drew her devilish strength from hell and slaughtered your gang like animals. And you, being brave enough to stop her, freed her of all her guns. You fought like chickens, scratching and scraping at each other, throwing rocks, tossing dust, kicking crotches, pulling hair (you mainly), all until you had her.

She was pined beneath, whimpering and blabbering useless mantra. You revved your blade. But you stopped. You had to tell her why she deserved this. Your speech you had prepared before vanquishing this world of evil. Your glorious speech of Smeech and your gang. And unbeknownst to you, that was more than enough time for her to flash bright magenta eyes. And whimper a sound so attainable, your breath locked, and suddenly, for no reason at all, you had an urge to piss.

That one second of weakness.

No.

She turned your speech against you, she built up her bewitching tactics, disarming you and filling you with mercy, all for her to drive your beloved knife, your knife that your parents made you, deep, deep into your belly.

Then those doe eyes sharpened and she laughed.

She pushes you off her like you were nothing, your body hitting the wet dirty floor. It was raining, and glory's pellets dribbled woefully onto your cheek. Your breath was broken up into sharp, unattainable gasps as you meekly tried to crawl away. Your vision shook white in a painful mix of adrenaline, pain, and panick. Panick thick enough to make you spit and froth out the corners of your mouth.

Your body was ringing, brazen silver alarm bells loud and sparky in your ears. The flashing of tree roots and veins in your vision, and how sharp your sense of smell suddenly became. You could smell the muddy streets clearer than day, and even the smell of cotton candy and battery acid death pouring out from her body. A smell that, even now, still made your lower parts clench.

"Ha-! Ahaha-ha," she laughs. Her voice echoes. In your shaken vision, you see her rise before you, blurry bright cyan blue blinding. Pitifully, you crawl backward, desperate to flee death. Once Jinx has you, she never spares any mercy. You knew that going in, but never, never did you believe it'd become a reality.

You were going to become another number on an ever growing list of people who thought they could kill Jinx and failed.

Once that settled in your brain, pitifully thick tears sprang out from your eyes. You cried loudly, a wail strong enough to shake the most powerful souls. A wail so primal, so childish, a wail that stemmed from early development yet also the evolution of humans itself- the last cry of a dying homosapien at the hands of a bloodlust driven Neanderthal.

A cry that was stopped by the quaking footsteps of Jinx. The booming, sloppy, wet footsteps filled with the vibrations of her getting closer. She fell on top you with a cadence, a gust of quick wind as she straddled you. You gasped and reached forward blindly, raindrops falling in your eyes and mixing with the tears as you clawed at her jaw and neck.

She didn't care. She grabbed your left wrist in a vice, hard enough for you to cry out like an injured lamb. And with her other hand, she gripped your face and trusted hers into your view.

She spoke, "You feel that?"

You gasped, your breathing erratic.

"You're going to die," she laughed at you. "You're going to die, and you almost had me! Not even my sister got that close!" Her voice is like a wicked hyena. Gravely and strained from the battle, creaking to show her physical pain.

But it was enough. It enough for your body to grow limp in her hands like a frightened goat.

Your eyes bare into her face, your head uplifted by her tight hands. As you stare at her skin, as pale as powder, eyes as tired and jaded as a wilted flower, and smile as deranged as a wheel on its last hinge.

She smiles, growing ever close, closed enough for your noses to touch, and for her breath, the mingle with yours, "You know. At this stage. You're suddenly aware of everything around you. Your vision goes to shit. But you can still hear the little birds go 'cheep-cheep-cheep', and the rain-- 'pitter-patter-pitter-patter'. And you can't quite feel the pain, but it's the fear of knowing it's coming that gets you." She grabs the knife, twisting it slightly.

You jolt, crying out in agony. "Your heart rate spikes, you begin to hyperventilate. And there's this ringing in your ears... And... My favorite part, the buzzing behind the eyes," she says as she reaches and stretches your eyelids back. Your pupils shrink, and just as she says, your body systematically begins to follow. Snot pools down your nose, a tell tale sign of your inability to get oxygen. "It's totally useless how we have a nose and mouth. But yet they get so scared and they start working against eachother! Just like families... Just like gangs... like rats," she hisses, and you can feel the etchings of her lips near your cheek as she loopily giggles towards your ear.

"You know, if you breathe through your nose, your hyperventilating will stop," she smiles. Eagerly and foolishly, you obey, shutting your mouth instantly and sucking in gifts of air. But just as instant as you gain it, you lose it within seconds. Jinx pinches your nose shut, her thumb and index vicious like the jerking bite of a shark.

You panick, you eyeballs ringing. And as you try to open your mouth again, she drops your head, ot crashes to the ground, and she slams her free hand to clamp your mouth shut.

"Nhahaha," She laughs. Oh, she laughs. It's manical in nature, enough for you to wet yourself in pure fear. Your hands shoot up to claw at her hands, albeit weakly, and it feels nothing more than a massage to her. By now, you're aware of the warm wet clinging your shirt has to your belly, your pants to your crotch, and the flavorful blend of urine and iron in the wet muddy air.

Your vision spots.

She releases you, but it was already much too late.

"You know what," she says. Her voice trails in and out in your ears. Her blurry figure rises, "I think I'll spare you... That is, if you don't bleed to death out here."

Your head sags, catching the final glimpses of her limping away before it all fades to--

You jolt awake with a hard start. You shoot up, blinded by white lights that eventually shimmer down to a familsr room, your hideout. Your heart bursting a hundred miles an hour out of your chest. It was the feeling of shimmer running down your veins like a cold shower.

Instantly, you recognize your old partner, Kilo, rushing up to you from their seat in the back. Their hands grab yours, but you're even quicker to smack them away. "What t'hell! I was supposed ta-ugh die," you blabber out, spit flying in your jittery rage. Your hands grip your head of hair, your heart racing painfully.

"I heard about your dumb plan, and I came to save you, (y/n)! You had been laying there for God knows how long--" They say but you cut them off with a deadly glare, "Why are you mad? I saved you! Listen, God, you just need to calm down," they pleaded, burning their doe shaped brown eyes into your skull. Eyes you used to find allu ng, before they abandoned Smeech.

Smeech.

Dammit.

Did it really even matter anymore.

Dammit you can't fucking think straight.

How much shimmer did they use on you?

They reached again for you, and you smacked them harder, as hard as your jittery body could manage. They were as thick as a barn, burly and bearded, so your shove did nothing to them. But still, you powered up, barely making out of your bed before you knocked into your bedside table and cracking into your lamp.

As soon as you stood, your heart rate spiked, causing a brilliant gasp to leave your body. The kind of gasp they've only ever heard you release in bed. The kind of gasp that was filled in nostalgic ecstasy, the pain was so reminiscent of when Jinx--

Fuck.

No. Please God no.

"Are you okay," they asked. And with one look from them, you knew that they knew.

They knew.

And they were judging you with those pitiful eyes.

"Jinx did a number on you," they tried to whisper, but you seethed like a jackal.

"Jinx did nothing to me! I am normal! I am fine! I haven't changed," you screeched. Your face was warming, your heartbeat was painful, but memories of your last encounter flooded your brain.

You were going to die in the marvelously sinful hands of Jinx. But she spared you. It made every part of you tingle. You didn't notice when your partner sprang up to catch you, and you as hell didn't notice you falling forward. No, but what you did notice was the worry in their eyes. The worry in their deep masculine voice. And the devil horns springing out of their head.

They knew.

They knew and they were going to tell everyone.

"Get the fuck out of here, bastard!"

You yelled it with all your heart and soul.

And within seconds, you notice their heart crumble. Bleary brown eyes only complimented the flicker of guilt that panged you.

You just.

Needed them gone for good.

You collapsed moments after they left you, moments after the door quietly shut.

You were never going to see them again. They weren't just a partner they were your best friend.

And Jinx.

Jinx was brewing in your heart.

And you knew it then.

You were becoming something you never knew before.

⚗️

You'd imagine Jinx's surpise when the little runt she spared weeks ago came crawling deep onto Silco's old zone (now turned her streets), fully armed. What she thought was a foolish revenge battle turned into something else.

Sevika dropped you dead onto your knees before the desk in Silco's office. Your hands were bound behind your back, and Sevika had already stripped you of all the weapons you had. She walked up to the desk, where the back of Silco's chair faced you, and dropped all the weapons onto it. The daggers and guns flattered and shined in the light.

A dry, crackling laughter sparked into the air. A laughter you knew was hers. It made you tingle again. It made the bruises Sevika left you in all the more worth it.

You were shivering from withdrawals. Jinx withdrawals, adrenaline withdrawals, shimmer withdrawals. You needed her to make you experience that death spark again.

Please Jinx.

"Are you dumb or something," she asks. The chair finally spins to face you, her feet clashing against the table. Her face ridden with withheld rage. She blinks in disbelief with an agape mouth. She jolts forward, grabbing ome of your daggers and launches it towards your face. It narrowly dodges your eye and slices a thin scratch into your cheek.

You hiss and laugh.

It irrates her instantly. Her eye twitched. For the first time in forever, Jinx experienced the stress felt Silco once before. The stress of dealing with idiotic subordinates.

And for once. She didn't find it fucking funny.

"I spared you! But you come back with an even dumber plan. What? Did you think you could just waltz in here and slice me up," she asks. You laugh. She clenches her jaw. With an aggravated start, she jumps out of the chair, stomping on the desk as she slides off it in one quick athletic gesture. In seconds, she's on her feet crouching before you, squeezing chunks of your cheeks between her fingers. "What are you thinking," she spits.

Her grip is vice. It makes your eyes water. But you tingle and shiver all over.

"Mmh. Look at those pupils. You're on shimmer. Or- well, off it. What? Did the jitters make you think you could take me? Reclaim your honor," she says.

"M'hehe..mh," you giggle.

She bares her teeth. She drops your face and stands at break neck speed. Your head crashes to the floor, and you hear the familiar sound of a click.

"Everything about this is stupid and makes no sense. Your plan before was beautifully executed and thought out. So why... Why are you," she winces before she can finish her sentence and pinces her temples. You can hear Sevika cackle in the background. You peek up, staring up the barrel of a pistol. "Geez toots... I might get withdrawls next if you don't- I'dunno, say something," she says.

"Mmh... Jinx... Jus' just kill me... Jinx," you gasp out. Your nose aches, a perfect compliment to the ringing from your ribs from taking a robotic punch earlier. "Kill me... And it'll all be... like it was supposed to... Another number on the "anti" tally," you murmur. Not even you know what you're getting at. Why you're here.

Her heel touches your head. She's purposefully digging it into you. "Aah- haa," you shake.

Sevika gasps sharply, "Oh?" Her eyebrows quirk knowingly. Jinx turns to her, but Sevika merely smirks. "I'll leave you to it," Sevika hums, her shoulders slumping as she steps out. Jinxs eyes flicker with wilderment. Sevika lowered her guard. Totally.

They both knew you weren't a threat. But here, that small gesture confirmed a lot to Jinx. You were harmless, you didn't want to die, but you wanted to be around her. No. You wanted her to hurt you. She tests the waters. Jinx's muddy shoe pets down your head, its light not to hurt you. You buck and shiver again, blabbering out heedless.

No.

You didn't want her to hurt you.

When the realization dawned on her, a breathy cackle split the air. "Ooh! Oh god this is too good! What's that little runt," she squats right down next to you, flipping you onto your belly, "you want me to play with ya? Oh, daddy'll play with you toots."

"Wait- that's not what I what I w-want you to kill me! My honor! I lost it in battle, and i-it can only be claimed in--"

"Nn'haha! You really believe that? Oh god you're a riot! Say it. You want Jinxsy to touch you... And err... Ya'know! Take you to p-town. Play with your cunny?"

You felt an electric jolt sink to your clit. One strong enough to shut you up. Your eyes flicker to her crotch, where her legs were spread as she crouched.

"Ooh," she caught it immediately, "you want my cookie instead, eh?"

You gasped in horror.

"Or box? Is that what the kids call it nowadays? Box... Box... I always wonders why, but," she says as she pushes Silco's desk out the way and sits down in the chair, spreading her legs wide, "apparently! It's called a box cause you can stuff it! Myahaha! Ain't that something?"

You stare blissfully at her spread legs, painfully aware of your slick oozing.

She pats her thigh. "Well? What's the verdict? I'm not pulling my pants down till ya tell me ya' want it. Say it cute-like! Oh Jinx-jinx-jinx-jinx! I want your cookie wookie! Pleaase'z," she drags it out, saying it sing-songly to fuel your embarrassment.

You blabber in disbelief, "Buh," and gulp, "B-But why. Why are you letting me?" You sound like a shy child.

"Why dya' think I spared you? You're pretty hot. And... I liked being handsy with you. It felt good... Gooder than usual... Hah! Prolly cause your whorish, sensual aura stunk up the place. All that temp'TIT'ous-humbo-jumbo! N'ahaha... God you-"

"Please, Jinx," you whimper.

She returns, "Hey. I already told you. We're not unt--"

You squeak, "Let me... Eat it..."

"Huh? Is that how you ask -"

"Let me eat your cookie," you say. She gives you a bland look. "Uh," you gulp, "Please Jinxsy... Let me eat your- c-cookie. Wuh... Wookie."

She laughs, "Tehe, you got it dollface!"

this wasn't ever about smeech, was it?

⚗️

"Ooh... ff-fuck dollface," she mewls breathlessly. Your hands are still tied tight behind your back, balancing wobbly on your knees as you bury your face deep beneath Jinx's bare, pale, milky legs. Your nose is buried deep into her cunt, your tongue and lips viciously lapping at her clit. Twitching between sucking and tapping it. She was swollen already, a clear sign of her sexual negligence.

No, part of you is convinced she is a virgin. Jinx bucks into your mouth, gripping chunks of your hair. Her leg twitching, barely missing kicking your shoulder as it flies off the seat it was propped up on. She let's it slump over your shoulder. And you almost cried at how far her hole was now from your greedy lips.

You growl, "Jinx put your other leg on me... C-cant suck all of you like this."

"Uhh... Hmm," You're sure she was only half listening, but still, she lazily hunches down and stops her other leg on your shoulder. She adjusts herself and leans slouches downward more, sitting on her upper ass and pushing her cunt straight onto your face in the process.

You snuck in deep sniffs, the smell balanced, tart, and salty. You slurp up her folds into your lips, pulling and letting them slip out between your lips. She hisses and mewls delightfully, an airy cackle leaving her lips. She taps your head with two fingers and bobs her head rhythmically, a delighted hum squeaking from her lips. You giggle humored, licking a stripe up her, slowing down to enjoy the moment.

She's staring deep into your eyes, grinding against your flat tongue, slowly matching your rhythm. Your rhythm was closely following the one she hummed and drummed on you.

It was odd, how calm it all suddenly became. How you couldn't seem to look away. You wanted to please her so bad.

A ferocious shiver sparked down you again. You locked in, cupping her clit in your lips, suckling and tapping against it. You buried yourself into her, erratic and fanatic, slurping all of her like it was your last dinner. She squeaks and bucks into your mouth at the sharp change, bowling out her moans. "Aah- ff... Oohh, dollface-ugh," she whines. Her arms fall out, one landing on her forehead, her index and thumb propped up on it, rolling her head back into the chairs cushions.

Her bucking became erratic, her moans spiking, her grip on herself becoming undone. As she reaches with her free hand again to grab chunks of your hair at the root. Her cunt is pink and pale, littered with pretty hair. But your bullying turned it a vulgar shade of red. A red you'd wear on your lips any day.

"Aah! Ah! Aaa-mmgh," she barks out. Her thighs clench vice around your neck, her leg spasming before finally, "Oouh," she janks your head away from her pussy, gasping and waning in the chair.

Her eyes rolled back, while senseless blabbering drooled out her lips. "Mmht... D-Dollface," she sighs blissfully.

"It's (y/n)," you murmur and lean back in to peck at her swollen, ruined pussy.

"(Y-Y/n)?" She gulps, her eyes never returning from their blissful heaven beneath her eyelids. "Mmh yeah... (y/n)," she mumbles, half listening. She sighs after a few seconds, finally looking down at you and- smiling? It was a soft one, geninue and pure.

She asks, "What else can you do?"

"Mmh... I want... to feel good too," you murmur still pecking her pussy and inner thighs.

"Hmmmrr.... Alright. Let's get you fingered up."

"N-No... At the same time as you... Let's grind on our thighs... er like how they do in those... Brothels."

"Ooh what? You mean scissoring? Ha, is this your first time with a woman," she barks a laugh.

"Is this your first time ever, Jinx?"

"Hey," she commands, her face twitches. She shoved your face back into her lips. "Don't get smart with me. You're still my doll," she hums.

"M'forgive me," you mumble out, with pussy between your lips. That was all the answer you need. You slowly begin to suckle her again, hearing her breathy moans pour in.

"Mmh yeah... Let's go to my room..."

⚗️

😁

[bunnylovesani]

Daddy Issues

(This is what I imagine him looking like in this fic)

Content warnings: MDNI, reader has daddy issues, 20 year age gap, Anakin is your best friend’s dad, drinking, fingering, dirty talk, general smut with a bit of fluff

WC: 2.6k

You and Leia met in your first year of college and your friendship quickly blossomed. Despite being from the same town, you’d never bumped into each other. If you had, you’re sure you would’ve remembered him. The first time you’d met him was Christmas, 4 years ago; it was your first time coming round to the Skywalker residence and all you knew was that Leia was raised by a single dad, who was now in his 40s. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were fascinated. He had dark blonde hair which curled into golden ringlets at the ends and a mysterious quality about him you were sure made the women weak at the knees- how he’d managed to stay single for most of his life was beyond you.

Despite your fervent initial attraction to him, you tried your best to put all of it aside. Besides the obvious reasons to restrain yourself, he was also the first positive male figure you’d had in your life. He was a damn good father; always present in Leia’s life and, since you two were joined at the hip, by extension yours too. You ignored every sign, every impulse, every sizzling moment of tension that came between you two- tension you naturally assumed was one sided- he’s a decent, respectable man after all.

You had it all under control- until you received a call confirming the graduate program you’d applied for months ago had been accepted. The subsequent week was spent getting daydrunk while hesitantly packing your entire life into a van full of brown boxes- or rather, directing Leia to do it for you since you were too inebriated. It all boiled down to your final night; one last night in the suburbs you’d felt suffocated by your entire life before you moved to the big city to start your shiny new life.

So why did you feel sad? You suspected you knew the reason but spent the better half of an evening denying it and battling the growing urge to pay him a visit. Eventually, when the reality that you were about to leave him forever sunk in, you found your feet taking you out the door of their own volition. Preparing to ambush him with the help of some liquid courage you’d choked down prior to leaving, you rung the doorbell of his house for what you thought may be the last time.

“Oh, hey honey. Leia just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house, you just missed her. I thought you’d already said your goodbyes?”. He innocently questions as he opens the door and lets you in.

“I know, it’s you I came to say goodbye to.” You say anxiously, staring at him intensely through your lashes.

“I see, I’m honoured.” He smiles and approaches you, pulling you into a hug. “Good luck with everything sweetheart, stay safe and above all- remember to have fun! Life passes you by in an instant and one day you’ll wake up as old as I am and kick yourself for not grabbing every opportunity you had.”

“Funny you say that, Sir. That’s the exact mantra I’ve adopted recently. Fuck it, right?” You help yourself to the glass of whiskey he was holding out of his hand and take a sip.

“Can I sit with you for a little while?” You plop onto his cushioned couch before he can reply.

“Erm, yeah of course, make yourself at home.” He says welcomingly, though with a perplexed expression on his slightly wrinkled face. “Are you okay?” He wonders if there’s a reason you’re acting so strange. You don’t usually drink.

“I’m great, thank you Sir.” You bat your lashes. “Just feeling sentimental with the circumstances and all.”

“How many times have I said, call me Anakin. I know I’m old but after so many years I’d say we’re on a first name basis.” He chuckles, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “I know I’m nothing much to you but I really do think of you and Leia as my girls. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” He says endearingly, smiling at you kindly.

That’s when you’re reminded of the reason you came here tonight. You had every intention of telling him how you truly felt, how you’d had a raging crush on him from the moment you met him- and now that you might never see him again, you saw no reason why you shouldn’t act on those feelings.

But hearing him compare you to his daughter filled a hole you felt inside you ever since your father abandoned you- while simultaneously making you feel sick to your stomach.

You stared into his warm eyes, encased with crows feet and accompanied by two prominent creases on his forehead. You shouldn’t find a man of his age so attractive but you do.

“You know, I don’t think you’re old.” You state simply.

“What?” He asks somewhat confused by your meaning.

“You said one day I’ll wake up as old as you. I don’t think you’re old at all. If anything, you’re in your prime.” You look away. “You’re not nothing to me either.”

He looks visibly stunned, though he tries to mask it by refilling a glass of whiskey, the brown liquid almost spilling everywhere.

“Right back at you, kid. Well I’m sure you’ve got a lot of packing to do so I won’t keep you. You need a ride?” He shuffles in his seat.

“No. Not the kind of ride you’re thinking of anyway.” A wave of boldness overcomes you and you feel the alcohol burning through your veins as you shuffle closer to him.

“Uh, I think that whiskey’s gone straight to your head. Why don’t I get you some water?” He’s about to get up but you grab him by the hand and force him to stay seated, holding onto it longer than necessary.

“You know how I feel about you Anakin. I know you know.” You stare deep into his mature blue eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with an apprehensive gulp.

“Now that’s enough young lady. You absolutely should not be thinking about me in that way. I’m almost twice your age.” He sternly warns you and you can’t help but wince. The way he’s scolding you is triggering some deep rooted daddy issues. You knew you always had them to some extent but you never knew just how bad they were until you met Anakin.

“I dont mean to make you uncomfortable, I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’ll leave right now if you want me to, you’ll never see me again. Just tell me you don’t feel anything towards me and I’ll be on my way.” You’re huddled over him with your legs on the sofa, hand slowly inching its way towards his thigh.

A flash of conflicting emotions run through his eyes- he’s obviously embarrassed, perhaps shocked - though you find it hard to believe he had no clue at all- but there’s something else. He’s debating with himself, you can see the cogs whirring in his mind.

“I can’t say that.” He meets your gaze. “I care about you a lot, you know that. Which is why you need to leave. You’re not in the right state of mind.” He gets up again but you pull him down and climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I have been in love with you for 4 years, Anakin. You are my every waking thought. I know it’s wrong and you’d never be with me but I can’t control myself. If I can’t have you forever, let me have just this one night- please.” You wait for him to object to the way you’re sitting on him but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Alright, honey.” He grumbles softly after a little while, looking at you with a subdued expression that conveyed both concern and understanding. “Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you what you want. I’m yours for the night.”

You sit there, stunned. You were fully expecting him to kick you out of the house and tell Leia everything. You were expecting anything other than him giving in. Is he just taking pity on you and thinks this will help you get over your daddy issues? He knows you have them. Or is he as sick and twisted as you are?

“Can…can I…” You lean in, pressing your fingertips against his lips.

“Leave it all to me sweetheart. Daddy will make it all better.” He wastes no time taking your hands into his own and kissing your fingertips softly, before pressing his lips against yours.

You’re too stunned to react so you allow him to kiss your motionless lips, your eyes still wide open in disbelief. You’d never been so grateful to someone for taking the lead.

“Close those pretty eyes for me baby, you’re safe now.” He kisses your eyelids softly and his gentle caresses awaken a deep urge within you.

You grab at his collared shirt, loosening his tie and unbuttoning it. “Been working more late nights at the office?” You mumble into his lips as you push the crisp white shirt off his shoulders, leaving his muscles exposed.

“That’s because I have two women in my life who bleed me dry.” He chuckles and you smile at the memory; he’s shelled out for you on more than one occasion- from plane tickets and birthday gifts to a new MacBook for college because your one broke and you couldn’t afford another since you’d been fired from your waitressing job- he even agreed that that guy deserved to get a drink thrown in his face for grabbing you. He said that if he were there, he would’ve done worse.

Before you freefall into a psychoanalytical hole, Anakin rips your skirt off - it’s as if he can hear your mind working overtime. You gasp a little as he kneads the fat of your ass cheeks roughly, guiding you until you’re grinding against him. You can feel him getting hard, and oh did it feel big. You’d stolen subtle glances at his crotch on numerous occasions, contemplating what it might look like, what colour the tip might be, what it might taste like. You couldn’t bare to be left in the dark any longer so you reached for his belt and impatiently started undoing it- but you were stopped by his large hands cupping yours.

“Not just yet princess. I wanna take my time with you.” He whispered coarsely and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Before you knew it, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on his lap with your back facing his front. He traced his tongue in big open kisses along your neck while his hands trailed up and down your thighs, before he hooked his fingers around your panties.

“Lets get these off shall we?” He purred and his words sent sparks straight down to your core. He lowered your underwear only down to your knees, before spreading your legs a little, his hand placed under one of your thighs to keep it up. You felt the cold air hit you and knew instantly that you were soaked.

You breathing was reduced to short little pants as his fingers reached the inner folds of your pussy, and it felt like every caress touched your soul. You started squirming about in his lap as two of his fingers slid into you.

“Goddamn… oh baby, I didnt even mean for that to happen but you’re just so wet they slipped right in.” You mewled at his lustful words as he curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with the base of his thumb.

“Oh Ani…ah fuck!.” You cried. “Anakin!”

“Yes sweetheart, what is it?” Gaining speed, he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and turned your head to force you to look at him but you were too stimulated to respond.

“Do you hear how wet you are? And here I thought you were a good girl.” He maintains eye contact and your cheeks flush at the lewd sounds coming from your core. You take a glance and see his hand is glistening with your arousal, wetness squelching as it pours down to the Rolex on his wrist.

“Aah…I, I’m sorry daddy! Mm can’t help it” You manage to squeal out, embarassed by how wet and helpless he made you.

“Don’t you dare apologise sweetheart. Daddy loves how wet this pussy gets. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes Sir it’s all for you- mm all yours!” You moan as you feel your climax fast approaching. “Please can I cum? Pleasee daddy!”

“Yes princess, cum for me.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you at such a tempo you have to hold onto his arms for stability.

As if someone opened a dam, your orgasm washes over you and you let out a stupified scream- you wanted to say his name but your brain is so scrambled all you can manage is a mumbled moan of incoherent syllables.

“Such a good girl baby, well done honey.” He plants kisses all over your cheek and neck as your heart rate climbs down.

As you come down from your high, the realisation of what you’re doing dawns on you. As if he could read your mind, he takes your face into his hands.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? If you think you’ll regret it, tell me now. I don’t think I could handle it if we made love and you woke up regretting it.” He speaks softly, as if being too harsh might scare you away.

“No, no it’s not you.” You quickly respond. “I just feel a little cheap. I don’t ever have one night stands so I’m kinda out of my depth here… and the guilty thoughts about Leia creeping up on me don’t help either.”

“Hey, you’re not cheap.” You scoff at his attempt to reassure you. “Stop that, I mean it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you regardless of the outcome of this. But…I mean I’m out of my depth here too. If we’re being honest, I haven’t had sex in years.” Anakin admits and your jaw drops. How could a man this damn fine not get laid for that long?

“It’s a personal choice.” He corrects before you jump to any conclusions about what might be wrong with him. “I don’t like one night stands either and if I’m not in love, I have no real interest in sex.” Your heart leaps at the insinuation- if he’s willing to sleep with you, that must mean…right?

“So let’s not have a one night stand then.” He continues and your heart drops. I guess you thought wrong.

“Let’s keep seeing each other. I ache all over at the thought of this being the last time I see you. I need you in my life. I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care what people say. Leia will come round to the idea eventually, she has to.”

“I love you.” You reply a little too quickly, staring at him with so much admiration you think your heart might burst.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

Part 2

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 17

Kinktober Masterlist vox nihili - "voiceless" Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader Kinks > demons, face fucking, come inflation, dubcon Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

As an experienced witch, you decide to summon a powerful demon because you need his help, but the only way you can get his energy is by swallowing his come. 

Warning: some dubcon, some actual goofiness, some come inflation; you know the drill. Don't like it? Don't read it!

You were prepared this time. You had bought the best supplies from very reputable sources. You’d mapped out the star charts. You’d articulated the spleens. Everything was in its rightful place. You were summoning a demon tonight, or you were hanging up your grimoire for good.

Ever since you’d discovered you had found a true Book of the Beyond, you’d practiced with it. You’d managed small things - imps, fairies, the odd incubus here and there - but, you wanted power. And true power came at a price. You had made a sacrifice or two over the years, and if you were being honest, sacrificial chicken fried up in a pan just like the real thing. So, it never went to waste. But, it just wasn’t cutting it. 

So, you switched over to blood magic. Now, as you sat on your wooden floor, surrounded by candles and runes and attuned crystals, you took your blade in your hands and cut your palm to drip your own blood onto the bright white, chalk pentagram in the middle of the magic circle you’d created. 

This was going to work. It had to. You were going to be the most powerful witch in the whole wide… wait.

What is that?

Your blood had created a small portal, and through it came a huge, dark hand. 

Out of the floor in your den, a huge Arch Demon crawled into your space, steaming from the heat of Hell, snarling with vicious fangs, and yet looking like the most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. 

When he finally made it to the surface, you looked down at his legs; the furry, cloven hooves making ruts in your hardwoods. His tail swished back and forth, and he held a black, iron trident in his right hand. He was fully nude, his body carved from marble, nearly seven feet tall, with black, twisting horns that sat low on his head. His chest was broad and well-muscled, and his belly rounded right down into a swinging, engorged, uncut dick that was as big as your arm… soft. 

“Hail!” You said, repeating your memorized mantra like you were supposed to, “Demon of the Underdark, Ruler of Great and Powerful Evil, I have summ–”

“Wha’s goin’ on in here, love?” The demon sounded… British?

“Well, I was reciting my mantra to summon you to this plane, my lord, just as the great tomes have des–”

“You summoned me?” He cackled, dark and deep, “Is that what this is? Oh, fuck me. Tha’s so adorable, babes.”

“Adorable? I need your powers, demon. Together, we will control the entire realm! Pray, tell me your name that I might write it in my book of magic.”

“Are you mad, love? A screw loose up there? These candles are from the department store, and I’m not sure what that is, but it’s definitely not eye of newt, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the demon chuckled, crossing his arms over his hulking chest, smiling down at you, “But, the name’s Gaz. Write it anywhere you want.”

“I just…” You felt tears spring to your eyes, trying to fight the frustration, “I always get so close to doing it right! The spells, the incantations… I even used the right runes this time. But, I still don’t have my true powers.”

“And what powers would you like to have, pet?” Gaz furrowed his brow as he looked at you, considering you with more regard, using his thumb to raise your chin up so he could see your face.

“I want to be a Master Summoner,” you sniffed, trying not to let your trembling lip give away your desperation.

“Ahh,” Gaz nodded knowingly, placing his hands on his hips, biting into his full bottom lip, “I think you’re missing a key element of your spell, babes.”

“What’s that? Please, my lord, I will do anything to know your secrets,” you prostrated yourself before him, your hands nearly touching his black hooves as you splayed yourself on the ground. 

He bent down and pulled you up to your knees, shaking his head,

“It’s no secret, love. Demons only come when they know there are souls to harvest. I’ve come for yours, sweet as it is, but if you want to attract more of my kind, you must have more souls.”

“How do I get more souls?” You asked, watching his deep brown eyes calculating and manipulating the world around him, figuring just how to get what he wanted.

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss you on your pouting lips, immediately forcing his slithering, forked tongue into your mouth, plunging through your throat, testing its depth.

You choked around its soft, writhing form, but you let him devour you, feeling yourself swell with lust between your legs. He pulled away with a pleased moan.

“I can put them in you,” Gaz purred, standing tall again with a dark look in his eyes. He reached beneath the behemoth that was his cock and fondled his heavy, melon-sized balls, “I’ve got plenty in here. Just need to make sure they stay inside your body where you can keep them safe, pretty witch.”

“Whatever you believe will work, my lord,” you peered up at him, trying to look obedient and worthy of receiving dark powers, “I am your humble servant.”

“C’mere,” he beckoned you, and you crawled on your hands and knees to kneel before him, hanging your head in deference.

Gaz used his demonic paw to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back, stretching your neck and bending it at a terrible angle. You gasped, hissing from the sudden pain. Then, he held your head in place and began to rub the oily body of his demon cock against your face, dragging it over your nose and mouth, letting the head drool across your cheek. 

“I think we should keep them in your belly, love. Are you gonna suck them out of me, or do I need to put them there myself?” His voice was a jagged growl. 

You looked up at him and stuck out your tongue, using both of your hands to massage and rub his cock all over your face, letting your tongue lick the fire and brimstone smokey taste from his shaft. You found the head at the end of his long length, and you suckled away at the shining, dripping precome that oozed from his slit. 

The only problem was, you weren’t sure how to fit this huge cock into your mouth. You made a feeble attempt at sinking his head between your cheeks, and he chuckled at you, guiding himself a little deeper, making your jaw ache from his intrusion. 

“Tha’s it, lovie. Gotta work for it, babe.”

“Mm hmm-nm,” you told him. 

“Oh, yeah? More, you say…” He winked, watching your eyes widen with concern, and he took both of his terrible fists, curled them into your hair on the back of your skull. 

Decisively, and with a steady strength, Gaz shoved his cock through your stretched lips, past your tongue, and rammed it against your soft palate, making you gag against him, your body convulsing, trying to stop him from going any further. The demon snarled, 

“Now, suck. Show me your true powers, witch.”

You were bolstered by his belief in you, even if you also felt like your jaw was going to dislocate itself from your face. When your eyes peered down your nose to map out just how much more cock you needed to swallow, you shivered. But, you were going to be a Master Summoner, and you weren’t giving up that easily. 

You began to suck in long, aching pulls, breathing through your nose, working your head back and forth with Gaz’s help, massaging his wet tip until it was practically bursting with dewy drops of his slick. You swallowed it down your throat, and you were surprised at how comforted you felt by the sensation of his warm fluid slipping down into your empty stomach. 

“Good… so good,” Gaz rumbled with a pleased resonance, “Are you ready for me to fuck this tight little throat of yours?”

“Mngh! Nhuhmph!” You tried to shake your head back and forth, but his heavy prick had hardened, and you couldn’t move or turn your head at all. You were trapped on him, stuck in place, primed and ready for your mouth to be claimed by a demon. 

“I knew you would be,” he smiled sinisterly, taking a step forward and shoving his cockhead past your palate and into your throat, feeding himself down your neck and stretching you in places you were almost positive you should not have been stretched. 

The sting made your eyes well up with tears, flowing freely across your temples, and you tried to shut them to clear some of the pain, but your hellish master used his hand to slap your cheek twice in quick succession, punishing you for it, his voice a sinful command,

“Eyes on me, you fuckin’ slag. Power hungry girls don’t get to be shy. Face your challenges, witch.”

You looked up at him, finding that dark defiance within you. He was right. You did hunger for power, and you wanted him to fill your belly full of souls so that you could control the demon army of your destiny. This was your time to shine. 

You wanted to impress him, so you stared into his gaze and sank yourself even deeper down onto his dick, gagging violently as you tried to take him. It felt like his cock was in your chest. 

“Ooh, yes,” Gaz grinned with sharp, white teeth and fangs, proud of your fury, “Tha’s it, babes. More. Take more of me.”

You felt him press himself down and down and down, all your hopes of taking one last breath were dashed, and you could only wriggle helplessly on the end of his long rod like a fish on a hook, caught and without any chance of escape. 

Maybe he would kill you and take your soul to Hell, you thought. He was a demon after all. But, he wasn’t done with you. Gaz watched you struggle to remain conscious, trying to breathe as he rammed himself in and out of your throat, fucking your face with reckless need. Then, he pulled himself out of you just enough for you to suck in a ragged, drooling breath, and he held himself there, watching you carefully. 

“There,” Gaz purred, petting the same cheek he had so violently abused, “Breathe, pet. Better make it count.”

You were crying from the desperation, unsure of how to get your lungs to feel even the slightest pull of relief, trying to suck in air through the thick drool and slick precome that coated your nose and mouth. 

Then, he pet your head and sighed, 

“That’s enough for now.”

He was back to his pounding. You were taking him all the way down to his swollen root now, and his black curling pubic hair brushed against your nose and chin. You used your hands to fondle his swinging sack, massaging his balls, coaxing them to dump their many souls into your willing body. You were preparing to be a vessel for a demon, and the feeling between your legs let you know just how much that idea turned you on. 

“Suck!” Gaz shouted, slamming his cock through your mouth, “Suck me harder, you filthy little bitch. Suck me like your life depends on it,” he leaned his head down and made his eyes flash red, “Because it does.”

You wailed, but it came out like a moan, trying so hard to please him, sucking him when you had the ability to do so, but for the most part, you were nothing more than his warm cocksleeve. 

He buried your face in his pubes, holding your head down as you thrashed for air, pushing at his furry cervine legs for freedom, and then… you stopped. You felt euphoric. Your mind stopped fighting as soon as you felt the molten hot stream of Gaz’s viscous demon come filling your belly. 

“Oh, fuck! Yes,” he moaned, smiling sickly, trembling and shaking above you, keeping your head pressed down, forcing you to take him as deep as you could, “Swallow it all, witch. Drink up all these fuckin’ souls.”

You swallowed and took in as much as you could. He had been pumping and throbbing inside of your mouth for so long now, you could actually feel the weight of his seed inside of yourself, and it made you feel so powerful. You rubbed your lower belly, rounded from the creamy gulps of demon come that was being stuffed inside of you, enjoying how full you were. 

Then, all of a sudden, Gaz released you, raking himself out of your throat, bringing strings of come and drool and spit with him. Your body clenched, gagging and coughing as he left you empty, your throat feeling like it had been burned. You could taste his spend on your tongue, and you sat back, panting, trying to let the oxygen get into your brain again. 

“Mmm,” Gaz moaned, jerking his softening prick in his huge hands, taking the tip and rubbing its sticky remnants all over your face, “Such a good little summoner. You summoned my come right into your tummy, didn’t you, slut?”

“Yes, my lord,” you rasped. 

“Does my nasty witch wan–” Gaz’s salacious comment was interrupted by the portal reopening. You both slid away from it, unsure of who or what was coming through.

“Gaz?” A demon with a tall mohawk and long, straight horns that went back across his head, squeezed himself through the open gap in your magic portal, “Mate, where did ye run off to? Didnae even finish your third torture sesh. Oh! Oh… what’ve you got here?”

The apparently Scottish demon startled you, and his gaze was unsettling. He stared at you like he wanted to eat your bones for supper. 

“It worked!” You celebrated, “Oh, thank you, my lord. The souls you gave me have summoned another demon!”

“What?” Gaz said, “Uh, no… this is Soap, and he was jus–”

“Summoned? I wasnae summoned here, lass. What was supposed to work?”

“The souls,” you explained smugly, “Lord Gaz has filled my belly with his seed, and he told me that it contains a multitude of souls that I can use to attract other, more powerful demons.”

“He told you that his fuckin’ spunk was full of souls,” Soap asked, his face curling into a boyish grin, “And you believed him.”

You nodded. Gaz sighed, waiting for the next quip that he knew was on its way out of the other demon’s mouth. 

“Well, bonnie,” Soap sauntered over to you, jerking his own immense phallus, “Mine’s got twice as many as his does. Hope you saved room for dessert.”

[agarthanguide]

A question but more of a holy cow! I just noticed that you live in Vermont! I’m a Vermonter myself and have lived here my entire life so when ever I see mention of this little bit of New England I automatically “ !!!” And always find it interesting cause as always support local artists and all that jazz and hope to one day see you at a local artist market!

But now that the bells hells have entered a colder region and us Vermonters being a winter state (if you wanna call it that lol) and have regional knowledge of winter, what are your thoughts on Dorian being the mantra a “ hoe never gets cold “ when it came to his design?

I live in Vermont! I fucking LOVE Vermont- there’s no billboards on the highways, people are kind but respectful of privacy, the dogs are all healthy, and most bathrooms are non-gendered. Hit me up if you are around Burlington and wanna get coffee!

I moved here after ten years in Arizona (I’m originally from Wisconsin) and I was so soft and miserable my first winter back north. But now I’m like “hoes DON’T get cold, actually.” As evidenced by the fact that the heat is off as soon as outside temps hit like 50.

But this is fun- NO ONE TOLD ME THEY WERE GOING TO AEOR. I had no reason to believe the outfits would be for cold weather! I see the new episodes at the same time as everyone else, so if they don’t mention something to me, I simply don’t hear it. That’s being said- I’m not sure I would want to arbitrarily warm up their outfits. Dorian has sheer everything, like I did when I came to Vermont from Arizona. So layer up those linens and borrow Ash’s old jacket, babe! I hope you learned something.

Enjoy some alternate universe Dorian hair. I’m looking at all my sketches for this round, and all of the, have slutty sheer shirts. It must have been in the brief!

[siempre-bucky]

Sweet Dreams

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: After soothing Jake after a nightmare, Jake comforts his son after one of his own

wc: 1.1k

warnings: talks of nightmares

A/n: It's been a HOT minute since I've written anything. Please enjoy some domestic hurt/comfort :')

“Was the mission successful, Lieutenant?” 

“Rooster and Mav… I-I wasn’t fast enough?” 

Jake jolted awake; cotton-mouthed, and forehead ridden with beads of sweat. He almost forgot he was shaking until he felt the soothing touch of your hand slide down his bare bicep. The fire in his lungs started to subside as you turned him around, the cold from the fabric of your nightgown soothing his chest once he was pressed against you. “What happened?” you whispered into his ear.  

“Same shit as every year, darlin’,” he whispered back, lips dancing along the crook of your neck. You let him stay silent after that, his hands roaming the body he knew almost better than his own. His bloodshot eyes closed, nose pressing deeper into your neck as if it would help him memorize the new perfume you had bought. 

You sighed and held him close, fingertips scratching the nape of his neck for his comfort. It was like this every October since the mission the Navy deemed a miracle. Jake would mark off the days on his calendar with a red pen and the nightmares came back when night fell. “My love?” you spoke after a while, making sure he was still with you. 

“It was the one with Mav and Rooster,” he managed, pulling back to lie down on his pillow. 

You followed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him with your head on his chest. “You could always call Rooster,” you mostly joked, “check in on him.”

“No way in hell am I gonna call Slow Ride,” he pouted. Even though he did once, on the one-year anniversary of the mission when the nightmares were at their peak. The blond rolled his eyes at your knowing giggles, he playfully shoved you away and got up from the bed. “I’m going downstairs for water, you want anythin’?” 

You shook your head and got back under the blanket, turning away from him. Jake smiled kindly in return and made his way out of the room, fingers gliding along the wall to ground him. He was in this house, he was part of a team because he succeeded, Rooster’s a part of that team. It became his mantra as he descended the stairs, eyes glued to the floor. 

The kitchen light was already on, it took Hangman a few seconds to register it. His brows furrowed at the freezer door that was still cracked open from the last user. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he shut both doors and turned towards the island. “Jesus,” he cursed in shock, seeing his son silently sitting there, wrist deep in the tub of ice cream. “What are you doin’ up, son?” he breathed, masking the panic. 

Luke looked up from his phone, matching bloodshot green eyes meeting his. “Late-night snack,” the thirteen-year-old responded. Jake could see beyond his answer, he knew the way his shoulders were hunched and the slight tremor in his hands—he knew it all too well. Plus he wore the faded Navy hoodie that used to be his father's, he wore it whenever you or Jake went on a mission.

“Luke,” Jake said, turning on the dad voice he perfected. He rounded the island and took a seat on the bar tool beside him, stealing his son's spoon. 

“It’s nothing, dad,” Luke grumbled. 

“Bullshit,” Jake smirked, raising his brows. “You know what your ma would say.” 

 Luke rolled his eyes and threw his head back in defeat. “I had a bad dream, but it’s alright! I’m not a baby, we don’t need to talk,” I’m a man now, men don’t talk about bad dreams. 

As if he could hear his thoughts, Jake took his pointer finger and poked the side of his head. He earned a weak smile in return “We don’t talk like that in this house, son, you know that.” Sucking it up was never an option in the Seresin household, not in this Seresin household. 

“I dreamt that you and mom didn’t make it back— no one made it back—grandma and grandpa didn’t want us,” Luke began to say, his grip tightening around his phone. Jake draped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him closer. “We had nowhere to go, we were alone.” 

“I’m right here, your mom's right upstairs, and your uncle Javy is a phone call away,” Jake reminded him calmly. Luke’s frame relaxed, his head finally leaning on Jake’s shoulder. “You know there’s a plan if something happens, we’d never leave you alone, kiddo.” 

The two Seresin men sat in silence for a while, the ice cream on the counter beginning to melt in front of them. “I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” Luke admitted after a while. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“D-did you have a nightmare too?” 

Jake’s lips thinned, his initial reaction was to deny it, suck it up, and move on as his dad beat into him growing up. But even in his darkest time, he was still an example to his children, “Yeah, but it was just a dream,” he nodded along with his words, then he nudged him, “but there’s someone who always makes it better.” 

You felt restless after Jake left the bed, tossing and turning, turning the lamp off and on until it remained permanently on while you waited for your husband. When the door started to creak open, you sat up, the blanket pooling around you. Of course, you expected a six-foot aviator to walk through the door, but you didn’t expect the lanky boy by his side “Hi honey,” you greeted Luke, your eyes fixed on Jake cautiously. 

“Got room for another tonight? told him you’re the best sandman around,” Jake questioned, sending you a look. Taking the hint, you smiled and opened your arms. Your son grinned and crawled into the bed, hugging you tighter than normal. It all made sense. 

Jake climbed in beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple before getting comfortable. 

“Want to talk about it?” you asked, pushing back his hair. 

Luke shook his head, pulling out his dog tags and running his fingers along your name and call sign. “No,” he muttered, “Dad and I already did…I’m feeling better. Just sleepy.”  He pulled the blanket to his nose, slipping off you and finding his place in the middle. You playfully covered his eyes, making him laugh which resulted in Jake turning around to face the action. You and Jake locked eyes, your hand left Luke’s face to brush along your husband's face. 

Jake wrapped his hand around your hand, pulling it closer to kiss your palm. “Goodnight boys, sweet dreams.”

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Scripted Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Peter Nureyev (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel):

His character is the reason the term "Homme Fatale" became a thing

Homme fatale, living by the mantra of be gay, do crime. V secretive and just the right amount of flirty. Also I love him

He’s a slutty master thief who slept with a detective he went on 1 date(murder case) with and then fell ass over tea kettle in love. Literally can’t think of anything sexier

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

An extremely agoraphobic mortician of a local funeral home who has every disease. Nervous wreck. Makes noises when stressed. An artist at heart (her embalming fluid is imbued with the fragrance of cinnamon).

she's the goth gf of your dreams. she's an undertaker, a romance novelist, a hot air balloon pilot, and she has interiority for days

It's antigone or unfollow me

please, everyone, antigone deserves this. she ghost-wrote a wildly successful erotic novel and then faked the death of the fake author. she didn’t leave her house for 17 years except to go see horny french films every thursday. she accidentally ended up in a love triangle with a hot domme lesbian circus ringmaster and her own employee. she broke up with a doctor after one date because he didn’t respect her career (and also his parrot hated her). she experienced years of carnal yearning for her professional rival only to finally realize she was actually okay on her own. she drinks embalming fluid. she thinks of funerals as an art form. she was diagnosed with depression as an infant. she wanted to be a clown when she grew up. her hero is a historical female scientist who has a statue with her tits out. she’s been attacked by owls. a bunch of children thought she was a forest witch. the rest of the village thought she was dead. she has committed multiple counts of breaking and entering. she designed artisanal chocolates that put you in a temporary coma. she can’t eat her own chocolates because she’s allergic to everything. she attracts shadows like a magnet. she’s a woman in STEM. if you have any love in your heart for goth weirdgirls you’ll do the right thing. ANTIGONE SWEEP

GUYS PLEASE

PLEASE VOTE FOR ANTIGONE!!!!!

CMON DON’T LET MY GIRL ���CANNONICALLY WANTED BY EVERYONE ON THIS ISLAND” LOSE!!!

Considering committing voter fraud for Antigone. My girl 😔

Vote Antigone because do you understand how narratively satisfying it would be if she won??? Season one? She could barely go outside her mortuary. Season four? Modeling for a sexy calendar. THE CHARACTER GROWTH!!!!!!! Nothing more sexy than that.

COME ON Y'ALL VOTE ANTIGONE. VOTE FOR MY HORNY GOTH QUEEN!!!!!

VOTE ANTIGONE OR DIE

IF YALL DONT VOTE ANTIGONE UR BLOCKED. This isn’t even a joke.

[mystsee]

DRIFTED ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

PREV ✦ PART 5

✦ about: you realize you do need simon.

✦ content: NSFW 18+, afab reader, squirting, breeding, cum play, domestic fluff, marriage mentions, slight anxiety, no mentions of y/n.

✦ a.n: ahhhhh my babies

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“what did you just said?” did you hear him well? move in with him? “i said, move in with me” simon tightened his hold on your waist. he felt your body tense as soon as he said those words.

“but, simon, i-“ you took a hard breath “i don’t know if that’s a good decision?” you thought maybe he felt pity for you, maybe he was just asking this as friends? “hey” simom said turning your face over to his “you don’t need to answer me right, just think about it yeah?“

“okay” you said in a small voice

-

you remember how you never talked with him about moving in, even though you dated almost 2 years, commitment scared you, and him.

moving in with him was a serious talk, and you never dared to mention it. simon on the other hand never found the chance to ask you.

he hated when you left at night, hated when he came back to his flat alone, hated when he had to go running to your apartment because he fucking needed you so much.

by the time he was gathering the courage to ask you, distance made its appearance in your relationship. he ranked up, you were focused on your job. he knew your relationship was dying.

everytime he left he remembered the ring in his drawer. simon knew he was in love with you. yet never said anything, he never said i love you to you and neither you.

except for that night

୨♡୧

simon fucked your brains out that night, god knows which round was this, but you were exhausted as hell “come on baby, i know you can, just give me another one” simon had you on your back, legs pressed to your chest, grinding his cock on your pussy

it felt surreal, he kept hitting all the spots that made you see stars, you were crying by now, whining his name like a mantra “i can’t simon, it’s too much” simon just shutted your mouth with his lips, his forearms were next to you head, feeling his hands hold your face delicately.

until one of his hands moved downwards. you were so cockdrunk you didn’t even feel it. simon in an instantstarted circling your clit so fast, slapping it every now and then.

it was overstimulating you. but in a good way “s-simon it feels so good” you were a moaning mess now, everything felt so good you were sure you were about to pass out.

“come on love, i want you to cum with me” he was holding his orgasm back, he could feel your breasts pushed on his chest everytime he moved, your nipples too. he was such a boob man he was adoring this. his other hand on your head moved until he could grab one of your breasts.

he started pinching your nipple, rubbing it, grabbing your breast and just holding in there, everything felt so fucking good to you you didn’t even feel your orgasm coming

“oh my fucking god” he could feel your orgasm approaching making him start pounding on you so hard your hips were probably gonna have bruises tomorrow “there you go sweetheart, cum on my fucking cock” and that was all you needed.

simon just saw the way you closed your eyes, grabbed his back with all your force and moaned so fucking loud. he came in an instant. thick ropes of cum painting your walls white

you were so focused on your orgasm you never noticed you started squirting. hard. but simon did, making him cum again. he could see all your squirt on his abdomen, coming out so quick of you he even pulled his cock out of you to see it.

in a second he felt another orgasm coming, the view was so erotic he cummed on the spot. he was on his knees now, no hands needed, just seeing his cock squeeze all his cum out his hands squeezing your thighs. he was a moaning mess too, his abs clenching everytime he cummed. he felt another thick rope of cum, making him lose his force for a second, almost falling on top of you, but he managed to keep his forearms up.

he wasn’t thinking when he started grinding his cock on your stomach, cum still coming out of him, and now near your breasts. you were slowly gaining consciousness again, feeling something gliding in your stomach.

it was until you saw simon’s cock grinding on your stomach you felt yourself squirting again, how the fuck? “simon” you moaned his name so loud you were sure the neighbours were going to complain.

“i’m here baby, fuck, i can see the mess your making from here” you could feel the sheets wet under you, blush coming full force in your cheeks.

“look at all you made me cum” you felt simon’s hands on your face now. you could see half of your stomach covered with his cum. you could also feel all of simon’s cum coming out of your cunt. the sheets were definetly stained now.

you weren’t thinking when you moved your hand and gathered all his cum on your fingers, putting them on your mouth

simon was getting hard again “you tryna make me cum again doll?” you just laughed mischeviously

you locked your eyes on him smiling “come on, i need to clean you up love”

one thing about simon is his aftercare is from another world, he peppered you with kisses while you were on the bath, on your neck, on your head, on your shoulders, just everywhere.

you were seated in front of him. simon was busy cleaning your body, his hands roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts, he stayed there massaging them for a while, just playing with your nipples.

“simon” you whined, he was overstimulating you :( “sorry love, got carried away”

simon changed the sheets while you were inside the bathroom brushing your hair, he just put on his sweatpants no boxers and waited for you in bed

as soon as you laid in bed and curled up on his chest, exhaustion began.

“i’m sorry for the mess” you slurred on his chest, simon just laughed softly “nothing to be sorry about love, that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen”

you just punched his chest, and in an instant you were dead asleep. simon stayed awake for a while, just seeing your sleeping form made him feel something inside him.

he couldn’t see himself without you, you were his everything now, a part of his life.

“i love you” he said it so low you couldn’t even hear his chest rumble. simon just kissed you on the head and brought you closer to his chest.

the next morning simon had a painful erection, and you were practically on top of him. you woke up feeling something between your legs, but, connected the dots fast.

“horny aren’t we?” you whispered, simon was still asleep.

you moved yourself sideways, and brought your hand closer to his sweats. as soon as you brought them down and saw he wasn’t wearing any boxers, your mouth watered.

his erection just popped out on top of his stomach, painfully red, and waiting to let his cum out. let’s just say you spent your morning pleasuring simon as much as you could 🫠

୨♡୧

simon always knew your relationship was based on actions rather than words.

you always organized his apartment when he left for a mission, cleaned his room, cooked for him, practically spoiling him everytime he came back from a mission.

and the ring always stayed hidden on his desk drawer, even after you broke up with him, he still kept in inside his drawer, never wanting to forget you he still loved you so much

-

you couldn’t sleep that night. simon stayed and helped you clean up your apartment, the domesticity of it making your mind run a million thoughts was moving in a good decision? maybe it’s time to leave this place, it’s full of bad memories now you thought.

yet a small part of you was scared, scared of fucking it up with him, scared of doing something wrong. your previous relationship messed up your head, making it harder for you to trust.

as you were cooking the next day, a subtle nervousness bubbled inside you. thoughts of moving in with him filled your mind with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

deep down, you couldn't deny the genuine desire for being with him again, you could do things right this time. the anticipation of sharing your space with simon and intertwining lives together brought a beautiful vulnerability to the relationship.

maybe this was what you both needed. and that’s when it hit you, simon didn’t text you today, you did tell him you needed to think about it, yet you felt anxious, what if he left again for a mission? you would miss your chance!

a sudden warm feeling settled in your chest, you longed for him, the desire to be with him again surged very quick. it wasn't just about moving in with him; it was to feel the comfort of his presence, to be wrapped in the safety of his arms. in that moment, the anxiety you felt transformed into a yearning that could only be eased by the simple pleasure of being close to him once more.

it was snowing outside, yet that didn’t stop you, you grabbed your jacket and left running. the cold was hitting your face very hard now, making it red, but you didn’t care anymore, you needed to be with him.

you saw the familiar block near you and felt the anxiety on throat. thoughts of what he might think, what he could say, echoed relentlessly in your mind. creating a knot in your stomach.

each passing second intensified the unease, desperately hoping for reassurance and warmth.

outside his door, your heart raced as you knocked, the sound echoing your anxiety. the moment he opened it, your eyes locked, and without a word, you kissed him.

desperation fueled your actions you instinctively reached for his shirt collar, pulling him closer. you felt home again

the kiss held pent-up emotions, longing and a silent plea for closeness. time seemed to pause as your lips met, the intensity of the connection momentarily eclipsing any lingering uncertainties.

his response was immediate, a reciprocation of the intensity that crackled in the air. the outside world faded away as the kiss deepened, becoming a language of its own.

it was a fusion of passion and reassurance, a shared moment that spoke volumes without a single word. his arms enveloped you, drawing you even closer, as if trying to bridge any emotional gap that lingered between you both.

in the intense embrace, the worries of what might be said or regretted melted away, replaced by the warmth of him. he pulled away first, breathing hard, his deep voice getting you out of your trance.

breathless, you looked up at him, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "what am I doing here? i needed to see you. needed this" you replied, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

he blinked, a mix of surprise and concern in his eyes. "you walked here?" a gentle worry in his voice as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. the warmth of his apartment was a stark contrast to the chilly night.

“maybe” you said shyly, simon just got rid of your jacket, holding you at arms length. “bloody hell, you’ll catch a cold” simon worried voice spoke.

"i don't care about the cold," you confessed, meeting his gaze. "i care about being with you."

"i came here to say i do want to move in with you," you admitted, the words escaping with a vulnerability that surprised even you. "i need you, need us to be together."

simon didn't respond with words. instead, he silenced your worries with another passionate kiss. it was a response that spoke louder than any affirmation could.

simon picked you up, and held you very close to him, he had you back again. you felt the door behind you now, making simon put his hand behind your head. the kiss felt so deep you could feel how simon felt.

he thought maybe you would leave him again, maybe he spoke too early, but as soon as you said those words, relief washed all over him. you were his again.

“i missed you so fucking much” you said with such a fragile voice, emotions getting the best out of you

as simon wrapped his arms around your waist, a sudden wave of emotion engulfed you, threatening to spill over.

the realization that he was by your side again, became almost overwhelming. the words caught in your throat as you fought back tears, unable to contain the warmth that engulfed your chest.

your quiet voice admitted it "i missed you so so much" a simple yet profound truth that carried the weight of every lonely moment you had endured in his absence.

"i missed you too doll, more than words can say" he responded, his voice laced with a sincerity that mirrored the intensity of your emotions.

a shared acknowledgment of the profound impact of your connection. as you held each other again, you felt genuine joy of being together again.

“just know that you won’t get rid of me now, nor ever” a promise simon felt deep in his heart. you kissed him again laughing a little.

simon smiled in between the kiss, sealing the joy of being together again.. he had you back again ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

my man deserves happiness 😖

AHHHHHH y’all just wait, i’ll make a make up sex drabble after this 😏

but! this was the actual last chapter! hope u liked this small series!!!! 🤎🤎🤎

taglist

@the-queen-of-england183 @sluttyforsimon @hotaruteba @honey-on-mars @actorryswife

[kittyball23]

Number Six (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: After learning of Branch’s four brothers, a Troll hatches a plan against BroZone’s youngest member. What he DIDN'T anticipate was for it to be thwarted so quickly

A/N: I have nothing more to say other than this is meant to be ridiculous

__________________________________________

Creek couldn’t deny a good performance when he saw one.

If the vocals were down, the dancing was on point, and the charisma was there, then there was no way that he couldn’t award the song with a hearty round of applause.

Even if he wasn’t too fond of the performers themselves.

More specifically, the blue-haired Troll who’d carried much of the song through.

It was no secret to anyone in Pop Village (and even the neighboring tribes) of the ugly history between him and Branch. Creek was not the kind to showcase his resentments - as his mantra of inner-peace and full-centeredness were still at the core of his personal beliefs - but it did not mean that there was still that green-eyed monster lingering within, its gaze fixated primarily on the pink Pop Queen of whom he was not on fair terms with either. The one who’d perused her romantic ventures with Branch instead of him.

So while Creek’s applause for the show was actually rather genuine, the smile he’d plastered on his face was anything but. A good song was not going to be enough to change the way he felt about Branch. With narrowed eyes, he took a better look at the other performers on the stage with him – four other Trolls who, in a surprising turn of events, were actually the Troll’s brothers. The conscious in his brain was fuming – as if one Branch wasn’t enough… now, there were four others! Each one the same tealish-blue shade, with faces that made expressions that looked awfully similar to that of the youngest in their bunch. But, Creek suddenly thought with a sort of sneer, maybe this situation wasn’t at a complete loss. If they were indeed his brothers, then surely they wouldn’t know about the more recent happenings of Pop Village, given that they’d long left the town years before. Perhaps, he thought, he could leave a good enough impression on the four to potentially even befriend them, though not for the purpose of actually wanting to gain an acquaintance out of them. Using their friendship to get on Branch’s nerves, on the other hand, had a much more satisfying sound to it.

So satisfying, he thought, that he wasted no time initiating the plan.

“Bravo, bravo, well done, mates! I do say, a wonderful performance indeed,” Creek complimented once he was able to get through the mass of crowd that was surrounding the band. “A real showstopper indeed, spectacular job, Branch!”

Branch rolled his eyes and sighed. “Creek,” he said formally, crossing his arms.

John Dory cocked his head. “This guy another one of your friends?” he asked.

Bruce, Clay and Floyd exchanged a look, like, Don’t tell me you were in yet ANOTHER other boyband, too, little bro!

“I suppose you could say that,” Creek replied, a smug little smile adorning his face.

Poppy crossed her arms and scoffed. “No you can’t.”

Creek glared at her, but then chuckled. “Oh, always with the jokes, aren’t ya, princess?”

Viva sidled up next to Poppy, crossing her arms. “Hey, mister, my little sister is the queen. So show her some respect!”

“Sister,” Creek repeated, pondering, eying the golden-curled Troll. “Right. So tell me, what does that make you then, hmm?”

Viva suddenly realized she didn’t have an answer for that. On a technicality, she was the one originally intended to be Queen. But, in that case, did that make her a princess now? Or something else?

Creek took advantage of her confused silence and carried on. “As I was saying,” he said, addressing BroZone, “I’ll have you know that I was like a brother to Branch, looking out for him during those years in which he found himself gray and alone…”

“Hmph,” Branch snorted. “Right, looked after me so well that you didn’t think twice about letting me and the rest of Pop Village get eaten by Bergens!”

Clay’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, hold up, what was that now?”

“Branch, you and everybody else would’ve died with a clear conscience, yeah? I was the one who made that possible. I made sure that you had no regrets going into that pot. And that is indeed ‘looking out’ don’t you think?”

“Uh… doesn’t sound much like it to me,” Bruce countered, narrowing his eyes at Creek.

“Ah, big boy, come on. I know you got more brain than brawn on you,” he said, gesturing at Bruce’s belly judgmentally. Then he moved to Floyd, still with that smug smile on his face. “Surely you understand. I must say, your fashion taste is on point. I always thought vests were overrated!”

“Umm…” Floyd said, unsure of whether to say thanks or not, and feeling rather uncomfortable.

“Ay, man, we all gotta flex the drip somehow,” Clay grumbled defensively.

Creek raised a brow at him and huffed. “Right, says the Troll in a onesie.”

Clay’s jaw dropped. How dare he call his very professional sweater-romper a onesie!

“There really are no hard feelings, my friends,” the mauve Troll stated confidently.

Friends? Bruce mouthed to Clay, who rolled his eyes. It had been only a minute or two of meeting this guy, and already they could tell there was something off between him and Branch. And defense-mode was just about to kick in.

“Why, folks could even consider me the 6th BroZone brother!” Creek pulled out an orange vest from curled greenish-blue hair and slipped it on, striking a pose. “Whaddya say, mates? Have room for one more member?”

“Ugh, are you kidding me?!” Poppy cried, unable to stop herself from blurting out. She’d had enough of this nonsense. Creek was being ridiculous!

“I didn’t ask your opinion,” he hissed at her, offering a smile at Branch and the brothers. “Come on, yeah? We’ll make a band-acious team!”

“Bro-dacious,” John Dory mumbled under his breath. He, Bruce, Clay, and Floyd exchanged a look. Then, a sly smile grew on each of the four Trolls’ faces as they turned back to him.

“All right,” Bruce said. “You can join us.”

“WHAT?!” Poppy and Viva shouted at the same time. The sisters gawked at each other, unable to believe that Branch’s brothers were really buying into this!

“But first,” Clay added, “we need to do a little, um, how you say…”

“Initiation,” Floyd finished.

Creek put up a hand. “Of course, I’d be happy to - whoaoah, hey!” The mauve Troll cut himself off midsentence when he suddenly felt himself being lifted up off the ground, four sets of arms grabbing him firmly as he protested to be let go. But maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. As he’d wished, they let him go alright - right into the lazy river!

“ACK!” he exclaimed as the cold water splashed around him and he flailed his arms.

Branch, his brothers, Poppy, and Viva all laughed hysterically from the result.

“Haha! That’s what you get for being a poser!” Clay shouted.

“Yeah! What he said!” Viva agreed.

“And a big phony!” Poppy chimed in.

“You stay away from our little bro, ya hear?” John Dory shouted to him.

“And us!” Bruce and Floyd said at the same time.

Branch was the only one who did not reply. He stood there, thrilled that the tables had been turned, and giving Creek a taste of his own medicine with the smug smile that had sprawled across his face.

“Um, Branch, who was that guy anyway?” Floyd queried.

“Right?” Viva scoffed. “What a hairball!” Suddenly she covered her mouth, blushing over the language she’d used.

Branch and Poppy exchanged a look, answering simultaneously with sighs.

“Oh, it’s a long story…”

[chronically-ghosted]

Taylor!!! Happy 1k to you!!!!! So well deserved. Hope you’re having fun celebrating 💕

💫- “Do you have to leave right now?” “I can stay for a little while longer.” with big soft guy Frankie Morales please 🥰

Em xx

heat lightning

rating: teen pairing: frankie morales x f!reader word count: 1.1K summary: this is not your frankie warnings: angst, reader and frankie have a daughter, proceeds the events of the movie, everyone's having a really bad time a/n: thank you for your request, Em! i know i don't usually do angsty!frankie but i think this scene had been brewing in my head for a while and i wanted to try it out! love you so much and i hope you like it!

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Frankie Morales Masterlist

When you were nine, your aunt and uncle divorced. An ugly thing – lots of crying, late nights up with your mother, arguments over the phone, loyalties tested, lines drawn in the sand. You didn’t understand much of it at the time, but there was always a moment that imprinted on your young psyche that has stayed there ever since.

You can almost smell the spilt wine on the carpet in the living room, hear your mother muttering and blotting with one hand, the other on her sister’s knee. You couldn’t see your aunt’s face from your perch on the staircase. Perhaps because it was elicit – you had been put to bed hours ago – or because you were curious – you had never seen an adult cry before – but you can recall the memory as if it were yesterday. From between the banisters of the stairs, only your aunt’s back was visible, hunched over and swaying as if unable to hold herself up right. It reminded you of your baby brother before he could hold his neck – precarious and loose in a way that was almost horrific in its vulnerability. She sways, back and forth, your mother’s hand on her knee - it’s alright, it’s just a spill, we’ll clean it up, don’t worry, it won’t stain – and then your aunt mutters the words you will forever remember for the rest of your life. The words butting up against each other, slurred on top of each other, she whispers:

“I woke up to a stranger.”

You think about your aunt and your mother and the fights and the wine and the calls and how you never saw your cousins much after that as you stare up at the shadowed ceiling, as lighting blinks reality white for a fraction of a second. Thunder rumbles, angry like your aunt, but for some reason you can’t feel anger. You don’t know what you feel but your jaw remains slacked, your joints sink into the sheets, your throat clear. 

Another growl of thunder, a single shriek of the alarm clock at 3AM, and Frankie’s hand slaps it silent, the alarm unnatural and too loud, threatening to bring the ire down from some great furious eye. Rage you couldn’t begin to grasp at, but wished for. The fortifying self-righteousness of anger would feel lovely right now. 

Instead, all you can hear is your aunt’s drunken words. 

Beside you, Frankie is still through the next beat of thunder, the spark of lightning, and then he sits up. He faces away from you, shoulders rounded like your aunt, but firm and steady unlike your aunt. In the next snap of lightning, you watch the planes of his back glow, muscle and scars and bone and sinew just as familiar to you as your own hands. You could trace Frankie blind-folded if you had to. Your hand goes to him as it has an incalculable amount of times over the past few years, unaware of what your conscious mind knows: you can’t make him stay.

A stranger – how can he possibly be a stranger to me?

Your hand on his lower back stirs him, waking up to the heat of your palm.

“It won’t be long,” he says for the dozenth time, a mantra for him as well as you. “I’ll be back before Alejandra’s party.” 

The Frankie you know, the Frankie you love would never even risk missing his daughter’s birthday. This hulking thing in the shape of your husband sees it as something worth losing, in favor of money. This hulking thing in the shape of your husband wants to provide, wants to prove there is a sliver of a better man beneath the coke addiction, beneath the suspension of his license. It wants to provide, provide, provide when all it does to you is take. 

Neither of you know this now but it will take him over a month to come back, empty handed but filled to the brim with more nightmares than before. One month to the day of this night, you will google, “when is a missing person presumed dead?” and then close your laptop so hard, it shatters and you blow a hole in your bedroom wall with the force you throw it across the room. 

This hulking thing in the shape of your husband is foreign to you, strange, but it still smells like him. Sounds like him. Has the same warm cup of his hands. 

When you don’t respond, or even beg, he moves to stand, the slats under the bed groaning. He promised to fix those months ago. 

He stands and your fingers curl around your husband’s wrist. Even the beat of his pulse sounds just like Frankie’s. But this is not your Frankie.

You hope to God and whatever else is listening that Frankie finds himself in the dark bowels of that wet jungle. 

Your mouth dry and your own heartbeat loud in your ears, you look up at him, into those dark brown eyes that make up your whole world. They are unfamiliar to you as they watch you with an emotion you can’t ever remember seeing in his eyes before. 

“I know you have to go,” and you do, you know this is something he has to do for himself, not for you or your daughter, but himself and there’s nothing you can do to stop him. “But do you have to leave right now?”

This hulking thing that smells like your husband, sounds like your husband, maybe loves you like your husband goes still. Beneath your fingertips, you swear his heartbeat slows. Lightning flashes again and you lose completely the shadowy outlines of his face in the total darkness.

And in that flash, his wrist slips out from between your fingers – this thing is going to be intentionally cruel as he cuts the cord and takes off with the soul of your husband – and then a broad hand slips down to your shoulder, your elbow. Gently pushing, guiding you back onto your side, he slips back under the covers, encasing your body in skin and warmth you know so well,  muscle and scars and bone and sinew just as familiar to you as your own hands. His breath is soft, relaxing as he curls around you and you hate this thing even more because it really does a wonderful impersonation of your husband, the man you love, the man you will always love. 

You let the tears come because you know they won’t break his fickle stone heart and you need relief. 

He holds you as you cry, his nose in your ear as he says, 

“I can stay for a little while longer.”

[sluttyminghao]

for the sleepover, could you please do something with mingyu / size kink? maybe a super short enemies with benefits-type thing if you feel like it? i absolutely love your writing n i check your blog so often its crazy,, i hope youre doing well and congratulations on this milestone!!!!! <33

you hope the bottle doesn't land on you, considering mingyu spun it. this Halloween party had already dragged out long enough, but your friend had decided to stay for one more round of 7 minutes in heaven, and you couldn't say no to her.

but you almost turned around and left when you saw mingyu sitting in the circle, grinning smugly at your appearance.

"just sit!" she states, pushing your shoulders down and you hit the ground with a thud, your arms crossing in annoyance. at least you weren't sitting next to mingyu.

you don't know why you hate mingyu, you have no logical reason to, but he just seemed to really grind your gears in your stats class last year and he's pissed you off ever since.

you eye him carefully as he spins the empty beer bottle, watching it spin quickly before slowly losing traction and stopping. your heart sinks immediately when the head of the bottle lands smack bang in the middle of your body, while he has a cocky grin on his face.

"come on sweetheart, let's go to the bedroom."

his friends are hollering behind you as you stalk into the aforementioned room, almost slamming the door in his face. he's quick to shut the door and sigh, watching as you huff and puff and sit on the bed.

"why do you hate me?"

his question throws you off and suddenly, you feel very small as he sits next to you, and it's only when he relaxes that you notice how big he truly is. his arms and thighs are bigger than your head.

"i-i dont know."

he glances at you quizically and suddenly you feel much smaller, your heart begins to race as he leans his face closer to you, and you suddenly have the urge to kiss him, regardless of how much you supposedly hate him.

so you do.

a surprised moan leaves his lips as you press your lips to his, and he's wrapping his arms around you tightly to keep you in his lap. it heats up quickly and before you know it you've only got your bra and panties left on and are grinding helplessly against his thigh.

"so - so big...fuck..." your whine has his cock twitching in his shorts and he takes a moment to observe you, how small you look sitting on his lap and grinding needily along his thigh. he thinks he might combust.

a bang on the door startles the two of you out of your mood, and you are quick to glare at him as you rush to get your clothes back on. he simply grins and grabs your waist, walking out of the room to surprised faces.

"we are leaving, see you later."

"where are we going mingyu?"

"back to my place, i need to fuck you until you're babbling my name like a mantra."

[dbnightingale24]

You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

~~

My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that. 

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you. 

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,��� she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men. 

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband. 

Great.

~~

Read the rest of the story here

[wixxid]

IVORY  · PART V

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 2,238

Warnings: dark themes, violence, death and mention of cannibalism

Summary: Your pride and loneliness gets the better, as you choose to pry in what you should avoid.

Desecrated.

It's tender to the touch. Bruised. The simple trace of your finger is enough to draw a frown. The mottled skin of your throat is obvious. A terrible site to bare witness, but there's more; a scattered mess mares your body.

The powders have no affect in hiding their existence, and so you resorted to covering them with fabric. It's better the people don't see. It's better your father and kin don't realise the damage of only one night. If they did, they might not leave you here, and the point of all this would be for nothing.

A waste.

You've come this far and you've survived. It's not for anyone else but for you to decide when it ends. It could be weeks, years or even decades, but you know this marriage is worth more than your life. It means a future for thousands of others, if not millions.

Turning from the mirror, you nod for the servants to continue dressing you. The early morning marks the hour of your fathers return to Caladan. He and the others are set to leave this planet, and you want them to leave with hope and pride.

Honour.

You aren't going to dress like your new people, nor will you ever behave like them. The void of their culture won't ever touch your soul. Instead, the servants prepare you in one of the gowns bought from home. A statement both daring and bold.

"Is it time?" you question, to which the servant nods. She's the very same to whom had once adorned the bruises you do now. For reasons unknown, you had taken a liking to the woman. "Good."

Taking a deep breath as you left your chamber, you couldn't help but yearn for what freedom you might find outside these walls; if for only a short time. If only to see your father depart this abysmal world. Gathering yourself, it was only your lone servant who guided you through the palace and up to the hithe.

The dark star that cloaks this planet bore light, and you wince as it floods your gentle eyes; having been weeks since you'd taken in anything other than the artificial. Even the air is harder to breath despite being outside; far too poisoned with fumes.

In the distance you see the great ship to which you'd arrived in, still gleaming unlike anything you'd ever seen. A beacon. There's very few in the galaxy who have or ever will travel the vastness of space. In fact, the first time you'd ever done so was to bring yourself here.

"I didn't think you would come," spoke your father. Standing in uniform, he greets you well kept but with a face of despair. The loom that surrounds him is heartbreaking. "I didn't think you would want to see me."

"Then you think too much," you replied with a faint smile. "You're my father - my duke. You're an honorable man who deserves to be farewelled."

"An honorable man wouldn't trade his daughter to the enemy."

His words hit you like a bullet. Painful. The surrounding noise grows overwhelming to the senses. Hypersensitive. You can hear the ships, the soldiers and even the planet itself resonating from all-round. Even the wind across your face feels strange.

But as you look at your fathers rugged face, see his familiar eyes and features, you feel the noise fade away. You can see the burden he's carrying. You know this was as difficult for him as it is for you. It isn't fair or right for him to keep carrying it.

"There is no call we do not answer," you repeat in mantra. "We do what we must for the good of the people." Resting a hand on his shoulder, you give a light squeeze. "We do what we must to survive."

"You're strong, just like your mother," he nods with a chuff. "You always have been."

Stepping forward, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and your eyes close amidst the threat of tears. You want to remember him as he is and as the kind-heartedness that he represents. Steadily breathing, you absorb his gentle touch and scent; to which you won't soon forget.

"We'll see each other again," he promises with a touch of your cheek. "I'll make sure of it."

Nodding your head with a mustered smile, the duke straightens himself before taking a step back. There are no other exchanges as he moves to make way for the ship. It's a quick farewell, anything more would be too difficult; too emotional.

"My lady," utters Gurney. Stepping forward, he takes your hand to lay a quick peck. "As a man of your fathers council, loyal friend and protector, it pains me that my only power now is to wish you well."

"Fate is a complexity, is it not?" you jest upon looking at your retreating fathers form. In all seriousness you added, "You'll protect him, won't you - and Paul?"

He pauses, "With my life."

"Then there's nothing to fear," you mutter beneath your breath. A rush of relief washes your bones, perhaps a premonition. "Thank you, Gurney."

Giving a curt nod, he bid himself goodbye before following suit to board the ship; along with the rest. Watching alongside what few soldiers and groundmen there are, you waited by until the doors ceiled. The tender strings in your heart tug at the site.

Loneliness is cruel.

Yet, a shadow looms on the metal floor of the platform. Piter. The mentat appeared from seemingly nowhere, and to your irritably, is the only one of any importance to see your father and people off on their long voyage.

"Where are they?" you question bluntly, not bothering so much as to look at him. Your eyes are still sharply focused on the starship. "Why didn't they come?"

In truth, it doesn't matter that your new family by law had not shown for the occasion. They hadn't done you the courtesy of it upon arrival, and so what little there is to have changed in their humiliation. You only ask in leu of the open wound it now salts.

"Pressing matters," spoke Piter. "The Baron's time is precious. It's best not to waste what isn't so clearly desired."

"And what of Feyd-Rautha?" you queried whilst turning to face the mentat; heated eyes meeting cold ones. "Is his time as coveted?"

"The answer isn't pleasant."

"I didn't ask if it were pleasant."

"Take the day," retorts Piter as he looks out towards the horizon. "This is your home now - you should see it."

The anger within your veins begins to boil. It vexes you that this twisted man won't simply answer what should be the simplest question. It causes your mind to tick, wondering what it could possibly be to make him so reluctant; secretive.

"Do I have to pry it out of you?"

The threat did nothing to change his monotone demeanor, but you can tell he'd heard you well and clear. A break of silence fills the void between you, until finally there is no more effort for him to conceal the truth. He confesses with a neutral tone.

"Prying only leads you to places you shouldn't be," he states before glancing at your servant. "But this one can show you the way."

Glancing over your shoulder, you eye the woman; head bowed low. Piter stays while you take your leave of the hithe. You'd expected him to be stronger, but his words of warning begin ring. Perhaps he's right to stave you from the trail you now follow.

"This way," utters your servant.

Following her lead, she moves at a slow pace; an evident lack of urgency. The reason is an evident one. Venturing into the palace walls and traversing the halls, the farther you travel, the more you studied the lithe and pale woman.

The muscles in her neck twitch and strain ever so subtly. A sign of distress. The way she grips her hands together, so tightly, as if she were trying to cling on, only makes you all the more intrigued yet disturbed.

"Where are we going?"

Keeping her head bowed she responds, "We're almost there."

The answer is hardly clear enough to process. Empty. The abundance of riddling and vague responses you've received only adds to your tart aggravation. It's baneful, with how the Harkonnen's have polluted this place with such fear and secrets.

A terrible infestation.

Eventually, the servant stops outside that of a chamber door; similar to your own but far removed. This place is located deeper within the palace, if at all possible. You can see her milky skin prickle and shiver beneath her thin dress.

You order, "Stay close."

Swiping a hand over the console, the door opens wide; revealing a bright illumination as it beams down from the ceiling. As you step forward, your shoes click against the glossy ground whilst the door close from behind; entrapping the two of you.

The channel of light strikes down upon the epicenter of the room, clearly irradiating the psychotic man you'd been seeking; although he's far from alone. As criminal and dangerous as he may be, his blood still belongs to great wealth.

Feyd stands within the down cast of light, muscular arms outreached while servants attend to his requisite. In a warped sense, his marbled pose and aura makes you think of an something akin to ancient; like a god from the old world.

A god of death.

The other servants are quick to stop and turn heads at your unexpected arrival, but Feyd remains unbothered. Evidently, there's not a soul on this planet for him to fear. However, his attendants have paused far too long for his liking.

Feyd turns slowly, clearly agitated at whomever had decided to enter his domain. His sharpened features don't soften upon realising your presence. Instead, he looks you up and down rather analytically.

He rumbles, "What do you want?"

"Respect," you answer simple and low. "Honour."

Feyd's lip twitches in a slight grimace and snarl. It's enough to show blackened teeth, to which you still find utterly unsettling. Feyd waves off a servant, before turning his undivided attention towards you; malicious.

"Honour," he repeats as he stalks towards you; one step at a time. "For who? For you?"

"For us both," you respond as he circles behind you. "The empire watches - waiting to see what will happen next. Now all they see is you - absent from the honour my house was due this morning."

"You Atreides," he drawls with a grumble. A flutter of feminine giggles echo from the far corner of the room. "You're all the same."

Feyd moves from behind you, instead leading himself to a table. It gave you a chance to take in the room. The servants stand predictably petrified, while three others sat lounged on a booth; the strange women are intermingled with one another.

"Would you like some fresh meat my darlings?" he boasted, whilst lifting a knife from the counter. It took you all of a moment to realise he's no longer speaking to you, but to the women on the lounge. "What would you like? A lung? A liver?"

Their own blackened mouths show in a mixture of smiles and grins. Deranged. Their giggles and moans visibly shift the tension. The other servants seem to faulter on the spot; their heads tucking lower and bodies tremoring.

"You," he leers at your own servant. "Come."

"No," you quip without hesitation. The last thing that'll happen in this room will be his hands touching the woman who stands so vulnerably behind your body of protection. "She isn't yours to torment."

"Everything's mine," he replies while approaching his nearest attendant.

You watch the girls lips quiver and eyes widen as his blade thrusts into her abdomen; once, then twice and again. She groans and splutters whilst falling to the ground in a matter of seconds. Butcher.

A pool of blood seeps as he turns to add, "Even you, Atreides."

The violent execution shocks you deep within, and control is hard to fight for as your emotions take hold like a vice. You're trying not to scream. You're trying not to react as to give him satisfaction. Instead, you watch as the girl continues to die, his victim twitching and suffering on the floor; dying then dead.

"There," he gestures matter-of-factly. "My honour."

His reasoning makes no sense. It's all madness to you. Murder. Lifting the dagger, he observes the blood which coats the blade. Transfixed. The gleam in his wicked eyes is unmistakable, but the gravity of it even more so, when his tongue licks a line of blood.

"Because of me," he elaborates. "My darlings are satisfied. Because of me, they're to live another day. There is honour in being master."

Your gaze flickers from him to the three women who sit intertwined on the lounge. It sounds as exactly as he'd announced, but you simply don't want to fathom the truth. These are fowl notions, even for the likes of his kind.

It sickens you more than the memory of his touch.

Listening to the women revel amongst themselves, they seem clearly pleased with their masters slaughter and offering. Feyd gestures and the others are swift to drag the fresh corpse from site; leaving a trail of smeared blood.

Concubines and cannibals.

[adoristsposts]

justin herbert winning superbowl and proposes to y/n on the field

author's note; oh ABSOLUTELY anon u ate with this idea!!! singlehandedly bringing me out of my writing slump summary; the superbowl was supposed to be justin herberts biggest win of the day- but he can't help himself from making it just a little better. word count; 5k warnings; mention of underage drinking, nsfw joke Lol! unedited characters; Reader x Justin Herbert

There was no world in which you weren't shaking with nerves and anticipation. You had grown up watching the Super Bowl on television. You had honestly never really paid it much mind unless your local team had made it through, and even then it was usually your teenage excuse to have a few friends round and sneak a few drinks. In the past couple of years, however, football had become integrated into your life in the form of a 6'6, 236 lbs sweetheart. When you and Justin had begun dating, the idea of it lasting had been far from your mind. You complained incessantly to your girlfriends about his schedule. "He's always busy!" You had whinged to them, far from dramatic. He always had practice or a game or team bonding. Finding a time he could carve out for you was hard. But damn, did he try. And it worked. Three years later, you looked forward to the familiar thump of his football bag hitting the floor on a Sunday to alert you to his arrival. After a win, he'd come to find you with a grin on his face and wild eyes, usually peppering you with kisses. A loss, however, meant he immediately took a solemn shower and put all that gentle giant weight on you to lie in your arms and soak in your affection. This year had been filled with wins. After two losses at the start of the season, the team managed to turn the tide and keep a strong string of games going. The result was enough to put them head-to-head against the Kansas City Chiefs in this year's Super Bowl.

And the Nevada heat was not helping you stay calm. You half wanted to peel your Herbert jersey off and stand in a refrigerator until the game was over. You were nervous for all sorts of reasons. Firstly, you wanted Justin to win. Secondly, you wanted Justin to get through the game without getting injured. The injury to his ribs last year, he liked to joke, had scared you more than it had hurt him. You would be happy with any result as long as he left the field in one piece.

So far, it was a close game. 21-31 in the fourth quarter, with the Chiefs leading. You couldn't figure out how you felt. You were bursting at the seams with pride as is, but you were desperate for Justin to win what he had been working towards for so long. Justin had played an incredible game so far. You and his family kept repeating so to each other, like a mantra that he would continue doing so. You wanted nothing more than to see them win this game, even if watching was growing more difficult with each passing second. Mitch and Patrick, his two brothers, watched standing up. They either perched, staring and analyzing the game in a way only a football player could, or paced whatever stretch of ground they could, discussing their conclusions. "He's doing great," Holly said, not really aiming the words at anyone. Your hands were clasped in hers, and you gave her a squeeze. The sweet moment was interrupted by Patrick's yelp. Your gaze snapped back to the field, and Holly let go of your hands as both of you stood up. There was a wide opening, where Keenan Allen was waiting. Justin's snap made it to him, and Allen set into the most determined run you had ever seen. He dodged defense, with help from Chargers players doing their best to block them from his path. And then- "Touchdown by Keenan Allen! The Chargers are beginning to close the very small gap between them and the Chiefs!" The announcer called. You and the Herbert family erupted in glee (as you had with every previous point.)

With just under a minute now left in the last quarter, 28-30 was beginning to seem like it would be the final score. Both sides were not letting anything or anyone pass. You could practically feel the tension radiating from the players. No one had sat down since Keenan's touchdown. The electricity in the box was too much for anyone to stay stationary. Your hands were clasped, pressed to your lips as you watched your boyfriend set up. He got the ball, pulled back, and paused. "Go!" Mitch yelled like Justin could hear him. And then, like he could, Justin started running. They had set up close enough, he could make it- you could see he was going to make it. You had never heard louder yells than in the second Justin made it to the endzone. The clock after that ticked down painfully slowly. But second after second, the Chiefs were unable to score any points that would put them back in the lead.

Then the game ended, and the Los Angeles Chargers had officially won the 2024 Super Bowl. You were right behind the Herberts as the four of them rushed out of the box and down to the field, Patrick dragging you next to him with a handful of your shirt. "Slow down!" You laughed at him. "You're dating a Super Bowl winner, there's no slowing down now!" He exclaimed back at you. You felt the warm flush of giddiness and pride. Justin was a Super Bowl winner. Your boyfriend. Your lovely boyfriend. When you made it down, the field and sidelines were already flooded with family and friends. A sea of red and blue. You were sure the pure, unadulterated joy radiating off of you was salt in the wound for the Chiefs players, but the moment you locked eyes with your boyfriend you didn't care. In a surge of energy, you raced towards him, your large smile somehow growing even bigger. When you reached him, you didn't even care that he reeked or that his pads were wet with sweat. He picked you up on impact and twirled you around. "You won," you told him. When he put you down, he kissed you quickly but passionately. "I'm so proud of you, babe." You said. "I love you." "I love you too." He said, smiling down at you. That damned height. His family caught up, hugging him and crying and showering him with love and congratulations. Once their excitement had faded a little, Justin wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side. He pressed his lips into your hair and mumbled something. "What?" You asked, pulling away. "Marry me." He said clearly this time. You froze. His eyebrows lifted as he waited for your answer, a shit-eating grin uncurling on his face. You couldn't think of what to say except for "What?" "Marry me." He repeated. His words sounded so sure, and the way he was looking at you- You reached up a hand and grabbed the front of his pads to pull him down to kiss you. This time not short, but definitely just as passionate. "Yes," You told him against his lips, "Of course I will." "Woah! Slow it down on the PDA, Justin." His dad laughed. Justin pulled away from you. "Sorry, dad." He apologized, "Just excited." "Don't let the Super Bowl get to your head," Mitch joked, reaching up to slap his little brother lightly on the back of the head. "It's not just that," Justin began, "I just kind of.." he scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to explain it. He looked to you for help. "I think we just got engaged?" You said, not breaking your gaze away from his. Holly let out a yelp of excitement, but Patrick beat it by a mile. "I call best man!" He yelled without missing a beat. From near you, Sebastian's head turned. "What did I just hear about a best man?" He asked. Justin rolled his eyes and groaned like the question annoyed him. Underneath it all, he was bursting with the anticipation of telling everyone. He had been pondering when to ask for months. There was a ring in the drawer of his bedside table that had been waiting for him to finally propose. But of course, he had to choose the spontaneous moment that felt right. He wished you had a ring to show off to the boys, but instead, he just had to tell them, "We're engaged!" The team exploded with cheers and congratulations, all still riding the high of the win. Still under his arm, you looked up at your now-fiancee with a sly grin. "Go shower and get changed. You and I are in for a very fun night." You told him under your breath. His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in a cheeky expression. "You're on," He retorted, beginning to walk away. "But don't forget baby, I'm a Super Bowl winner! It'll be a fun month." You ignored the curious glances his family and teammates gave you at his comment and tried to hide your bright red cheeks.

[xspeter]

could u write something for carl grimes where the reader and him reunite? set in like season 4 after carl and rick think judith had been killed. and like the reader was with judith and ran her away from danger but carl and rick didnt know until they saw them both again?

INNOCENT

carl grimes x fem!reader

you never imagined you’d be in an apocalypse at 14 years old, let alone taking care of the sister of your friend alone.

➪ thank you sm for the request!

-

“it’s okay, it’s okay, please judith- just stop crying!” you begged, doing your best to scavenge for something, anything, that was suitable for a baby to eat.

being in an apocalypse was already hard, but having to take care of a baby as well as your self in an already cruel world? it might as well have been suicide.

you could hear the walkers getting closer, five maybe ten of them? when you could hear their footsteps practically in front of you you decided to just give up on your scavenging and run.

you seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, running. you had always known the governor was dangerous, rick worried about him practically every second of the day, but you never really understood just how dangerous he really was.

that’s probably why when he finally did attack, you were anything but prepared. carl had warned you that things weren’t going to end up all sunshine and rainbows, that people were probably going to die.

you wish he was still there to knock some sense into you.

you have no idea what happened to him, really you had no idea what had happened to anyone. for all you knew everyone was dead.

you decided not to think about as you stumbled into a neighborhood. a nice neighborhood. “maybe things are looking up for us jude..” you murmured, holding the baby closer to your chest.

-

you scavenged a house, going through drawers and cabinets. it looked like mostly everything had been taken, so you decided to check the upstairs. right when you were beginning to ascend the stairs, you heard a growling coming from one of the rooms.

you took a deep breath and set judith down in the bed in front of you, pulling out your knife and rounding the corner towards the room. the door was closed, and as you looked closer at it you noticed the words written on it.

“walker got my shoe, but it couldn’t get me.”

you let out a breath as you realized whoever had said written that was probably close, and people close could mean your group.

you smiled as you ran to get judith, she seemed to notice your mood and began clapping her hands as you perched her on your hip.

running out of the house, you began to look inside each and every window. “cmon.. please be here.” you muttered as you looked in the last houses window.

there were open cans and a couch seemingly pushed against the door, and on top of the couch was… a hat.

a sheriffs hat.

“carl…” you gasped, beginning to pound on the door. you heard the sound of a couch being moved, and you did your best to make yourself atleast a little presentable.

when the door opened, you gave a sad smile to the broken man standing before you. rick seemed to be bruised all over, his hair torn in patches. “hi, rick.” you smiled as he dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

you gently handed her over to him as he began to burst into tears, when you looked behind him to the boy staring at you in shock. carl. your smile seemed to get impossibly wider as he stood next to his father, tears in his own eyes.

he looked up at you, a smile on his lips. “thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated like a mantra as he hugged you tighter than you’ve ever been hugged before.

“it was really no problem, really!” you reassured, fighting your own tears. carl smiled as he pulled you tighter against his him.

you were finally home.

-

i hope this was okay! this was my first request like ever so i was a little stressed lol

©️ 𝐱𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫