#or even by planting trees close to the road

[diocletianscabbagefarm]

Btw now that I’ve suddenly become a bike advocacy blog for a couple hours let me point out there’s more to bike infrastructure than a bikelane - even a separated one with protective barriers. So much more.

[teaandinanity]

I feel a little weird that my biggest problem during what appears to have been the apocalypse was being without power. Like, now that I am caught up on what's happening in the world outside my direct line of sight? Holy shit.

I am the moron who only notices she's in a zombie movie 2 days in when she tries to go get Starbucks.

[steddieasitgoes]

Hopper isn't fond of his job as the chief of police on a good day, but he hates it even more when he has to cover for one of the younger guys and do night patrols around town.

One cold winter night, he's driving around town, thinking of ways to finally win over Joyce, when he spots a van parked half a mile into the woodsy area of town, still running. He recognizes it as Eddie Munson's -- hell, he's pulled the Munson kid over enough times for reckless speeding to have the license plate memorized.

At first, he figures his speed must have caught up to him, and he lost control, which is why the van is idling in the middle of the goddamn trees, but as he drives closer, he sees Munson's frame slumped over the wheel.

Maybe it's the paternal instinct in him or his years at war, but he immediately assumes the worst. He knows Eddie's a local dealer, so it's easy for his mind to jump to the conclusion that he sampled some bad product. He spent time in the city, he knows what a drug OD looks like, and judging by the stillness in Eddie's body from his vantage point, well, it ain't looking good for the Munson boy.

The last thing Hopper wants to do tonight is have to drive to Wayne's home and sit outside until he gets off his night shift at the plant and tell him his nephew overdosed on the backroads, so he speeds closer and double times his steps when he hops out of the truck.

His mind is reeling a mile a minute, hand on his walkie-talkie ready to radio to the station to send an ambulance half a mile past Cornwallis if he needs it, that he doesn't even think to hesitate before he's tapping frantically at the glass of the driver's side window.

Thankfully, Munson jolts upward, so he's not dead. Unfortunately, Steve Harrington also makes his presence known, sitting up from where he was crouched over in Munson's lap, mouth agape and --

"Oh, for fucks sake," Hopper swears. He does not get paid enough for this shit.

"What the fuck, Hop?" Eddie asks, voice several octaves higher than usual, as he rolls down the window.

"I thought you were dead!" Hopper shouts as he scrubs his hand over his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind. He turns his back on the van and takes a deep, calming breath that does absolutely nothing when his ears pick up on the sound of zippers being closed and belts being buckled back up.

When silence falls on them, Hopper reluctantly turns around. "Harrington, I know you have an empty house where you can do these sorts of activities. Why the hell are you both on the side of the road!"

"Well," Steve says, a tilt in his voice and a mischievous grin on his face. "We tried to make it to my place, but we just couldn't wait. You know how it is, Hop."

Eddie snorts. "He most certainly does not. Joyce won't give him the time of day."

"Poor Hop," Steve pouts. "Maybe we can put it in a good word for you."

Hopper rolls his eyes. The last thing he needs is these two getting involved in his and Joyce's non-relationship. "You know I could have the both of you arrested right now?"

Eddie hums, "You could."

"But you won't," Steve adds.

Hopper sighs. They're right.

"Fine. But you better get out of here before someone stumbles on you that will arrest you."

Much to his chagrin, Eddie salutes Hopper. "Aye, Aye Captain"

"Hey," Steve whines, pulling at the disheveled tie of his Scoops Ahoy uniform. "I thought I was your captain."

"You are, baby. Of course, you are."

"Jesus Christ!" Hopper groans.

This is why he hates the night shift.

This is silly and dumb and the timeline is very ambiguous lol but I saw this tiktok last week and the worms started worming and figured I should get it posted while I can still link out to the inspiration.

[rainrot4me]

Keep It Rolling

Summary: You and your friend decide to see if you can find ghosts in an abandoned asylum as you record the whole thing. When you run into Hoodie, he thinks it’d be fun to record you instead.

Characters: Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Recording sex, bad blowjob, vaginal, threatening with a gun, pussy slapping, size difference, forcing, gagging, stretching, cream pie, size difference

Words: 3.9k

You spent your whole life filming everything. 

It didn’t matter what. Eating breakfast, going to the store, hanging with friends, everything was caught on your little camcorder. You had an internet personality to keep up with and feeding your viewers your personal life was a hefty job. But you loved it. 

So, of course, when your best friend messaged you about some supposedly haunted mental asylum twenty minutes off the interstate, you had to get it on camera. 

The mid-autumn breeze blew through your hair as you and your friend packed your filming equipment into the back of your car, shutting the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat. The asylum wasn’t even an hour away. But as you sped down the interstate, it was like the whole atmosphere had changed. The clouds were dark, the wind blew leaves from the trees, and this ominous darkness loomed around you. 

“Where did these rain clouds come from?” Your friend mumbled, scrolling through her phone and checking the weather which didn’t offer many answers. Brushing it off, you turned down an overgrown dirt road off the highway and searched for the building. If it did start raining, there was no way you were getting your camera out of the car. And if there was no camera, there was no reason for you to go inside. But as you drove further, an overgrown sign dangled on the side of the path. ‘State Asylum for the Mentally Insane.’ Charming. It was much farther after that that you could see the run-down building come into view, boarded up windows and patches of wall missing. The decorations of the building had all but disintegrated, but the foundation and skeleton of the building still stood strong minus the crumbling sections of walls. You pulled the car as close to the end of the path as you could before the overgrown plants stopped your path. Shutting the engine off, you sat and stared at the rolling clouds swarming overhead, judging if this was a good idea or not. Obviously, you knew it wasn’t.

“Shit, whole things coming down. Wonder how much longer it's got till it completely crumbles.” Your friends laughed, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk, slinging a bag full of voice recorders over her shoulder. “I hope we don’t find out.” You joked back, sliding to the back and grabbing your camera and backpack full of batteries and hard drives. The wind howled through the building, an eerie whistling noise echoing off the decaying walls that were visible from the outside. If you couldn’t find anything haunted in there, at least you’d get some good aesthetic shots. “I say we make a lap through the building and see if we can find any particular room that feels right to set up in. Y’know, see if it feels haunted.” They laughed, slamming the trunk shut and sauntering towards the entrance, a large dark door with shattered lanterns on either side. You flipped open your camera lens, filming a good shot of your friend shoving the door open and peeking inside. You quickly followed behind, skipping up the steps and peeking inside yourself.

The entrance was dark, furniture and paintings rusted with age and tossed around on the ground. Leaves and cobwebs accented the space, giving just the right amount of old and creepy as you filmed you both entering. The wind howled through the halls as you scanned each room, discovering abandoned medical supplies, facility rooms, and rows and rows of medical beds. All of it was caught on film, the dim lighting giving just the perfect balance with the soft glow of your flashlight. This had to get you views.

When you and your friend finally decided on a spot, a recreation room fit with a stage and tables, you set your audio recorders on the tables, little blinking lights illuminating the room as you pointed the camera. Your friend pulled out their flashlight, laying it on the table and flicking it on. You angled the lens, catching their face in the glow as they began to ask questions, the eerie quietness echoing their voice. “If there are any spirits here who are wishing to make themselves known, please do so now.” Silence. Besides the settling of the old floorboards, there wasn’t a movement or sound to be made. They tried again. “We’re here to do nothing more than talk. Please don’t be afraid to communicate.” Nothing again. You were growing impatient, switching your camera between your friend and the dormant recording devices, no lights signaling activity was being captured. Your friend groaned, holding out for maybe just some noise but ultimately flipping off the flashlight and scooping the recording equipment back into their bag. “Maybe we just picked a bad room. I want to try something though.” You flipped your camera shut, breathing deep and smelling nothing but mould and concrete. “And?” 

They shuffled the bag onto their shoulder, shining their flashlight around the disheveled room. “I saw on some ghost channel they split up and went to opposite ends of their hospital and got a lot of activity. Apparently, ghosts like it when you’re alone.” They smiled, shuffling back to the hallway. “Sounds good to me,” It didn’t, but who were you to say no to some good content? “Walk to opposite ends of the building and meet back in thirty minutes?” You both nodded, turning away from each other as you trudged your way to the farthest end of the asylum. 

You felt like you had walked forever, stepping down two flights of stairs until you ended up in what you assumed to be the basement. Random trash and unorganized medical equipment littered the floor but it was charming in a way, like the place was a relic of what it used to be. The damp air surrounded you, every step echoing off the concrete walls and recording beautifully as you flipped on your camera. Cobwebs hung in every corner, more afraid of running into one than running into an actual ghost, but content was content.

You set your camera on the ground, shining your flashlight at your face as you crisscrossed in front of the lens. The hall was silent, the dark corners sending chills up your spine as you couldn’t see past where your flashlight glow went. You settled yourself, breathing deeply before calling into the darkness. “If there are any spirits here who would like to communicate, please make yourself known.” Silence. The rhythmic dripping of water from the pipes offered some relief as you listened closely, but ultimately heard nothing. You sighed, trying again. “I am only here to talk. Please make yourself known.” Nothing still. It was relieving, sort of, praying internally that you’d find nothing as you stared into the camera’s lens. Shaking your head, you gave it one final attempt before you’d decide to head back upstairs. “If any spirits wa-” 

That was when you heard it. The loud thud echoed from down the dark hallway. Fear shot through you, quickly aiming your flashlight but seeing nothing that could have made the noise. “Hello..?” You called, picking your camera up and directing it the same way. There was no response. But as you went to stand, a very clear sound of someone clearing their throat echoed. You scrambled to your feet, realizing this wasn’t going to be paranormal, but some squatter you’d accidentally run up on. Your hands were shaking but relentlessly keeping the camera trained on the hall, staring intently for any sign of motion. Deciding not to press your luck further, you quietly stepped towards the stairs, barely reaching the railing before you saw it. The tall figure of a man resting his shoulder on the wall beside you and staring straight at you. 

A scream bubbled in your throat, panic building before he was on you in a second, his large hands shoving his over your mouth and holding your head still. You gripped your equipment tightly, panicking desperately as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. That all stopped as soon as you felt the gunhead press against your ribs, nudging you to be compliant. “One word and I shoot.” He huffed, his deep voice reverberating against the walls. That’s when you could see him in the glow of your flashlight. He wore a ski mask that covered every feature of his face, but had a weird face drawn on. Tears rolled down your cheeks, realizing what a heap of trouble you were in. Whining, the man released your mouth but nudged the gun deeper into your rib, forcing you to the wall behind you. His gruff demeanor shakes you. “Explain yourself. Now.” He commanded, shoving the hilt further up. You panicked, quickly answering. “Uh- My f-friend and I came to see if we c- could find ghosts. I was making, uh, a video.” You cringed, holding the camera up as it was still rolling, capturing everything that had happened so far. The man jerked the camera out of your hand, examining it before tossing it to the floor, a whine escaping you as you watched it skid against the concrete. He leaned in close to your face, his breathing mumbled by the mask. “No ghosts, huh?” He towered over you, his large frame encapsulating you easily. You shook your head awkwardly, gulping as he pulled the gun from your side but quickly repositioned it under your chin, nudging it forcefully. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll get.” He cocked the trigger, the noise sending a full-blown panic through you as you gripped his arm. “Please! Please- oh, God, I’ll do anything,” You huffed, tears pouring heavily. “Anything you want. Money, your dick sucked, food, anything!” You pleaded, face growing red as you shook with fear. 

The man leaned back, pulling his finger off the trigger as he chuckled. “What was that second thing?” He smirked, resting his hand on his hip but not letting that gunhead leave your chin. You blushed roughly, your words betraying you as you just word-vomited something to save yourself. “I said anything.” You huffed, gritting your teeth as you felt the cold metal leave your skin, sighing deeply. 

The man holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, sauntering over to your camera on the ground and scooping it up. He wiped it off, flipping the screen open before pointing it at you. You blushed, feeling awkward on the other side of the lens for once. He chuckled, stepping closer to you as he moved the camera to the side, staring at you directly. “Well?” He grinned, focusing his gaze back on the camera screen that captured your red face, the flash accentuating your features. His mask concealed his expression making you unsure if he was being serious or not, but you didn’t want to test those waters knowing full well he had a gun.

You awkwardly knelt in front of him, the concrete wall behind you cramping you. The truth was, you had no clue what you were doing. No boyfriends made their way around to lay you, so whatever you were about to pull out of your ass: your life literally depended on it. 

You fiddled with his belt, sliding it open before nervously pulling the zipper of his jeans down. He wasn’t even half-hard in his boxers. You palmed at the bulge awkwardly, glancing up as the camera stared at you, his face peeking behind and watching you closely. Growing in your hand, you tucked your fingers under his boxers and tugged them down, his large cock barely bobbing out. It was awkward, but you took the length in your hands and slowly began to stroke, feeling it harden slowly. This was good. Nervousness pricked at your stomach as you licked at the tip. You slowly pressed the now hard length into your mouth, getting as deep as you could before pulling back. Slobber coated the length, gleaming in the flash of the camera. You leaned back in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and taking the rest of what you could in your mouth. It wasn’t good and you knew it. Your teeth constantly scraped against his length. Not to mention any time the tip passed your tongue you were gagging back off of it.

He was growing impatient, the half-assed attempt at head making his head hurt. You felt his hand slink up the back of your head and grip a handful of your hair, slowly guiding your head back onto his cock. “Open wide.” He commanded, holding the camera lower to get a good shot. You hung your jaw lower, gripping his jeans quickly as you felt him press into your mouth further than you knew you could take. You gagged, straining to pull your head back but he wouldn’t let you, he just kept pushing your head further. You slammed your eyes shut, tears pricking as you wrapped your lips around the thick cock deep in your mouth. He finally pulled your head back, giving you a second to breathe before you snapped his hips back into your mouth quickly. You whined, throat choking as he thrust your head on his cock quickly. He held your hair tightly as he forced himself down your throat, practically face-fucking you and not giving you a second to adjust. 

“Damn, you got a mouth on you, huh?” He huffed, shoving the camera closer to your mouth wrapping around him tightly. You groaned, eyes rolling as you gagged each time his cock pressed against the back of your throat. It was loud and vulgar, the wet sounds echoing off the walls. He refused to let up though, groaning as he held your head back. “There you go. Keep that throat open, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, pressing your head flush against him but not pulling away. You began to panic, gripping at his jeans as you choked, no air reaching you. He chuckled, cock throbbing in your mouth at the sound of drool gurgling in your throat. He finally pulled you off his length, a loud gasp escaping you as air filled your lungs. He pulled your hair back making you stare at the camera, your flushed face and slobber-covered lips shining brightly against the flash. “God…” He let go of your hair, pumping his cock into his hand before kneeling at your level. “Yeah, I’m not done with you.” He grinned, gripping your legs pulling them out from under you and landing you on your back. He crawled over you, nudging himself between your legs as he tugged at your shirt until it bunched above your bra. He hooked his fingers under the cups, pushing them up and exposing your tits. Hands were on them in a second, massaging and pulling at the mounds. 

Your whines echoed as he pinched your nipples, pulling them roughly and kneading the buds in between his fingers. “You’ve got such a nice body sweetheart. I can’t wait to ruin it.” He scaled the camera across your body and shot your curves well. It was incredibly embarrassing. 

He pulled his hands off your nipples, leaning back to set the camera on the ground and angle it between your legs, getting a good shot of your crotch. If anything, you were impressed with his familiarity with a camera. But the other half of you cringed as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them off your legs, giving the camera a clear shot of your damp panties. His fingers rubbed at the spot, his thumb pressing roughly against your clit and making you squirm. You reached down quickly, grabbing his wrist. That wasn’t going to happen. He immediately grabbed your wrists in return, pinning your hands above your head and relishing the way your body arched in defiance. “Calm down, huh? Relax…” He grinned, sliding your panties off your hips with his right hand and sliding his fingers up your folds, collecting your arousal. Pressing your legs open, he spread your folds the same, the cold air making your clit twitch. “Such a pretty cunt…” He groaned, spreading your lips and spitting against your hole, making you squirm.

He rubbed his fingers against your entrance, circling the area as you arched your back, silently begging for him to slide them in. That was when you saw his hand reach back and quickly slap down on your cunt, a sharp sting hitting you. You gasped, his hand slapping you again before you could even say anything. His palm continued to connect with your cunt, rubbing the area roughly before bringing his hand back to slap down again. You were a whining mess, every sting and slap making you so much wetter. The squelching sounds your cunt made every time his palm reached was embarrassing, your moans mixing and creating an insanely lewd noise. “God! Please…” You whined, squeezing your knees closer and trapping his hand against your cunt. He chuckled, giving in and pressing his fingers into your soaked entrance, a loud squelch echoing. You groaned, his fingers reaching deeply inside of you and curling just the right way. When he began to pump his fingers, it was all you could do not to scream your pleasure. Your throbbing clit ached as his fingers curled against your walls, each curl causing them to clench down. His thick fingers worked you open, your squirming body being easily held down by his muscled arms. Your orgasm came incredibly fast, your walls tightening around his fingers as they stretched your entrance wide and became soaked with your ecstasy. 

He pulled his fingers out sharply and brought them to the hem of his mask as he slid it up just above his nose. He licked his fingers of your arousal, smiling at you as he took them down to the knuckle. Your eyes frantically glanced at the camera lens, the flash blinding you as you begged the battery would magically die and none of this would be recorded. No luck. “Damn sweetheart, you think that cunt’s ready for me yet?” He grinned, pulling his mask back down and wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling you quickly to rest your thighs on top of his. His cock was twitching and angry, the head pulsing as he pumped it in his hands. He let it rest on your tummy. You glance down, head spinning as you realize just how big he is. “Oh, I’m gonna be in there.” He chuckled, releasing your wrists to scoop his hands under your hips and angle them up. He nudged the head of his cock against your entrance, leaning down to meet his face with your as he breathed deeply. “Try to not scream, yeah?” 

Before you could question why, he slammed your hips down onto his length. The rough stretch and sting of him entering you so abruptly made you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks. He didn’t wait. Either because he couldn’t or because he didn’t care. His hips snapped into you quickly, fingers digging into your bare hips as he forced your hips to connect with his. “Shit-” He was grunting with every thrust, heavily breathing behind the mask. Your moans and cries matched his, every nudge of his cock against your walls making your back arch and jaw hang open. It was dizzying. He was perched on his knees, holding your hips off the ground and fucking into you like some fleshlight. 

Every tug at his hands and pull at his jacket went unnoticed as you clawed against him, trying your hardest to find some stability as your body was being rammed against. Your cunt throbbed with every squelch and slap, your walls constricting around the thick length invading inside of you. The camera caught it all, angled perfectly to see every inch of his cock sink into your cunt as he thrust quickly. It caught every lewd moan, every slap of skin. The tears were rolling down your cheeks, the sting and stretch of him mixing with the absolute pleasure slamming into you. “Fuck, so tight. Gonna milk me dry, sweetheart.” He huffed, repositioning for a split second before angling his hips up to ram into your g-spot. You screamed out, hand reaching for your clit as you rubbed in pace with his thrusts up into you.

That’s when he grabbed the camera, angling it down directly at your cunt as he sunk into you quickly. “Cum on my cock. Yeah, let me see it.” He moaned, shoving your hand out of the way to press his own fingers against your clit, rubbing quick and rough. You slapped your hands over your face, eyes rolling as you felt your orgasm rushing against you. The masked man was moaning louder, little whines escaping his lips as his own pace became sloppy. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.” He groaned. It sent you over, waves of pleasure crashing into you quickly as he refused to let off of your clit. You screamed out, arching your back against his fingers as he rubbed your orgasm out. Walls around his cock constricted, milking him as he held the camera close, the flash catching every drop of sweat and arousal that mixed on you. He bottomed out against you, moaning loudly as he released deep into your cunt. 

The room went quiet apart from your panting. The camera caught it all, each pulse of his cock as he filled you full, your hands gripping tightly against his wrist as he held his thumb over your clit. He slowly pulled out, hissing as you felt the stretch of him. When his head popped out, he moved the camera down, catching every second as his seed leaked out of you. “Did so good sweetheart. Took me so good.” He huffed, sliding his fingers through your folds and spreading his release across your cunt, making you squirm. He pressed his fingers into your swallowed entrance, pressing his seed back in. When he pulled them out, he flipped the camera shut, turning the flash off and setting it back on the ground. 

Finding your panties, he slid them back on you and relished as he watched them soak darker. He helped you button your pants back, pulling your shirt down and helping you stand. Handing you the camera, he laughed at your hazy expression, your heavy eyes and swollen cheeks evident of your fucked out cunt. “Thanks, sweetheart, now run along before I change my mind.” He huffed, turning back to the dark hallway and waving you off. “Good luck with your ghosts.” You nodded, frantically turning back to the steps and rushing up to the fresh air. It hadn’t been long, but as you listened closely and heard the sound of heavy rain, you trudged to the other side of the asylum and found your friend just as hopeless as you left them.

“Did you find anything? I had a whole lot of nothing.” They sighed, leading you to the entrance and out to the car as you tried to hide your equipment from the rain. “Nah. Nothing interesting.” You sighed, climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off back down the dirt path. 

When you eventually made it home, you sprinted to your laptop and shoved the SD card in, loading up the video. Your hand covered your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, arousal growing in your pants again as you felt the leak of the masked man’s seed against your folds. 

The video played through, every squelch and moan sending shivers through you as your hand slid down between your legs, rubbing lazily as you rewatched his cock sink inside of you. 

You’d have to go ghost hunting more often.

Comments are reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[hgfictionwriter]

Road Trip

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and Jessie take a little road trip out of town. The fun doesn't have to wait until you get to your destination.

Warnings: G!P (girl penis) sex: hand job, oral (r giving head). Fingering (r receiving). Car sex. Semi-public sex. Language.

A/N: This is a G!P Jessie universe one-shot. Not part of the Control series. I'm also probably obliged to say - don't try this at home lol.

During a rare long weekend for both you and Jessie, you decided to take a road trip out of town. You'd booked a cute cabin a few hours away and you and Jessie had been looking forward to this for weeks. She'd prepped a road trip playlist, you'd curated a stash of road snacks and mapped out the most scenic route to take.

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when you and Jessie hit the road. She navigated you through the somehow still congested city roads until eventually the traffic thinned and you were on the winding, open road through the forests of Oregon.

When you two weren't chatting, you were singing along to the music, Jessie now and then subtly bobbing her head along to the music or tapping her toes in time with the beat if she was really into it, quietly humming at most.

You drove past a particular landmark and Jessie recited various facts and history about it to you because, of course, she'd researched key things along your route. You braced your head against the window with your arm as you smiled softly while you watched her, listening to her excitedly tell you her learnings.

She wore her wavy hair down today, her black baseball cap on top. She wore a short sleeve shirt that showed off the subtle definition of her biceps and her muscular thighs were deliciously on display in the shorts she wore, her feet planted apart as she held the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her thigh.

You belatedly realized you'd gotten so lost in appreciating her form that you missed what she was saying. She caught your inattention.

"Are you even listening?" She asked, mildly exasperated but still giving you a lopsided smirk as she cocked her head at you. "The oldest tree in the state not exciting enough for you?"

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head with a smile at her. "Oh, I'm enthralled. Seriously," you went on, growing earnest as you rest a hand on her arm briefly, "I'm sorry. I love when you get excited about things. Tell me again, please. I was just...distracted."

She gave you a curious, sidelong glance.

"Distracted?"

"Distracted," you replied matter of factly.

"With what?" She inquired in a way that relayed to you that she had no clue how enticing she looked right now.

"Oh you know," you said as you leaned over in your seat and reached across to rest your hand on her thigh. Your hand inched inward, caressing and gently kneading her firm muscles. You spied how her grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily and she readjusted.

"Oh," she said, veiled surprise in her voice as she kept her eyes trained on the road before eventually letting her gaze flit over to you briefly, her cheeks growing pink.

"I love how smart you are," you told her, your voice soft as you let your hand now wander up her leg, teasing the juncture between her upper thigh and hip. Your hand traced firmly along there, the tips of your fingers brushing oh so close to where you wanted to be. The loose fit of her shorts concealed what you knew was underneath.

"Uh huh," Jessie said absently as she shot you a look of warning. You continued to rub the inside of her thigh and held back a smirk at how she cleared her throat and shifted under your touch, straightening in her seat with another look at you.

You didn't hold back your smile as you saw a gentle curve start to form in her shorts.

"Have you ever had road head before?" You asked as you began to gently palm the bulge that was taking shape under your attention.

She exhaled roughly. "No," she said curtly, shooting you a brief glare. "Seems pretty irresponsible."

"That's too bad," you hummed in mock disappointment as you continued to cup her, feeling her grow firmer and bigger under your hand, the loose fabric of her shorts slowly being pulled taut by her swelling arousal.

Jessie swallowed and shifted in her seat while she shot you another discerning look.

"Would you like to try?" You asked, a lilt in your voice as you continued to rub her through her shorts.

She cleared her throat again and you caught how she dug the fingers of her free hand into her thigh before making a fist and released again, still digging into her leg.

You shifted her lap belt out of the way, then you undid the button of her shorts. She let out an audible noise, her shoulders rolling back subconsciously while keeping her eyes trained on the road.

"I trust you," you told her as you slowly began to unzip her shorts up and over the angle of her stiffening cock. She released a soft gasp.

"I don't think I trust myself," she corrected.

"You can always tell me to stop," you told her in all seriousness as you undid the button on her boxers. You stopped, looking up at her now and giving her room to actually halt things. She didn't, so you pushed the fabric aside to reveal her stiff cock.

A wave of arousal went through you, now you being the one to shift uncomfortably in your seat. You inadvertently licked your lips.

"God, you make me so wet," you told her. She let out a small breath, her head falling back against the head rest. You watched as her shoulders raised and lowered more fully as she worked to control her breath and stay focused on the road. You licked your fingers, the motion drawing her gaze and she groaned lightly, a smile tugging at her lips now.

"Jesus," she said with a subtle shake of her head. "This wasn't on my itinerary," she joked, a crooked grin now adorning her face.

"It wasn't on mine either," you said as you reached over and wrapped your hand around her length. She let out a low gasp, her shoulders sinking. "But you look so amazing and I adore you too much. I couldn't resist," you went on as you slowly began to spread her precum across the sensitive head of her cock with your thumb, taking your time, your touch light and teasing. You gradually slid your hand up her length and then back down.

Jessie let out a low groan and you saw her legs flex and one hand now clutched the fabric of her shorts tightly in a fist.

Her lips parted, her breathing quickened as you slowly stroked her up and down, your thumb still teasing her. You wore a carefully concealed but affectionate smile as you saw how she worked valiantly to keep the car steady. You began to stroke her a bit more firmly.

"Oh God," she said, her eyes flitting over to you. Her expression shifting from a mix of focus and pleasure to a goofy grin and a blush as she made eye contact with you. She grabbed the wheel with her other hand and reached out now to rub your thigh, wanting some kind of contact with you.

As you continued to touch her, you allowed a new bead of precum to form at the tip.

With your free hand, you unclicked your seatbelt. Jessie immediately snapped to attention, coming out of her partial daze and looking at you with concern.

"Hey, no," she said as she even wagged a finger at you. Without thinking, you grabbed her hand, bringing it up and gently placing her pointed finger in your mouth, sucking sensually on it, your head bobbing slightly as you locked eyes with her.

"Fuck." Jessie let out a shaky breath as she sat back in her seat again, dropping her fight with you. After a moment she managed to muster up a pleading look.

"We'll be fine, baby," you assured her. "There's hardly anyone on the road and it's pretty straight for a while." Her eyebrows furrowed further though she voiced no more complaints. "Just keep your eyes on the road," you instructed gently, a glint in yours as you shifted in your seat so you were fully facing her.

She let out a long, audible exhale and placed both hands on the wheel in anticipation.

You grasped her in your warm hand again, stroking her gently. You absently noted out of the corner of your eye the way her jaw clenched at your renewed touch.

"God, I love your cock," you told her as you adjusted yourself one final time before bending over and tracing your tongue around the head before pulling your tongue fully across and licking up her precum.

"Oh fuck," Jessie said, almost gutturally. You smiled before taking her fully into your mouth, closing your lips around her and sucking as your tongue swirled around her head furthermore.

"Jesus Christ," Jessie went on. You smiled into her as you heard her grip tightening around the leather of the steering wheel.

You continued to tease her tip, enjoying how your ministrations already had tension mounting in her body, evident by the flexing and shifting of her legs and the frequent readjusting of her grip on the steering wheel.

Satisfied, you took her further into your mouth, closing your lips as far down her length as you could, feeling the firm head of her cock pushing at the back of your throat. She let out a shuddering moan and you felt the car jerk a little - her hand shooting out immediately onto your back to brace you as she righted the car.

"Fuck, sorry," she said breathlessly, her hand rubbing your back apologetically before she grabbed the steering wheel with both hands again.

You didn't respond. You simply gripped the base of her length, rotating and stroking there as you began to bob your head up and down.

You heard Jessie let her head fall back against the head rest again with a dull thud as she moaned low in her chest. You moaned against her in response, the vibration and sound adding another level of pleasure for Jessie. She unintentionally began to subtly rock herself up into your mouth.

You continued to suck her off and you had to fight off the grin over Jessie's increasingly vain attempts to retain composure. She breathed heavily, blowing measured breaths, bright pink cheeks puffed out in a combination of exertion and concentration. Her knuckles were sheer white as she gripped the wheel and blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes focused on the road.

Her breaths started to grow shallow and shaky, her low moans transitioning into soft, needy whimpers. Though you knew she was doing her best to not thrust into you, her hips were subtly pushing into you with a quickening pace.

She was fully in your mouth, the deepest thus far today when she spoke urgently.

"I can't," is all she said as you felt her turn the wheel and brake, the car veering before steadying and slowing. You heard gravel and dirt getting kicked up under the car as she pulled over.

Now stopped, Jessie leaned back fully in her chair and let out a deep moan of relief. You lifted your eyes briefly to see her raising both hands to her forehead, arms out and head tossed back as you continued to envelope her with your warm mouth.

She soon placed a hand on the back of your head and you began to bob up and down, sucking and licking her more vigorously.

"Oh fuck, babe," she panted. "I'm gonna cum."

You were undeterred, continuing your skillful motions and relishing how her moans rose in pitch and frequency as she rocked into your mouth and bundled your hair tightly in her fist.

Her moans reached a high and she tensed up underneath you, her hips pushing herself deeper as she spilled herself into your throat. You didn't waver and instead you moaned as you swallowed every drop of her release.

Her hips began a slow stutter against you as she began to come down. You slowed your strokes and the bobbing of your head until drawing up on her length one last time, sucking as much off of her as you could as you let her fall from your mouth. A small grunt escaped Jessie's lips as you released her.

You sat up, her eyes following you as you swallowed again and wiped at the corners of your mouth.

"Fucking Christ," Jessie breathed as she lifted her hands once more, closing her eyes and covering them as she sat there spent, her legs spread wide, cock slowly softening.

You gave her a small smile though she hadn't mustered up the strength to look at you again yet. "How was it?" You asked smugly.

She groaned, peeking an eye out from between her fingers to shoot you a look.

"Do you really have to ask?" She deadpanned. You shrugged nonchalantly and kissed her cheek.

"Thanks for keeping us safe, by the way," you said sweetly as you leaned in again and cupped the other side of her face and kissed her cheek once more. "I told you I trusted you."

Jessie let out an exasperated breath.

"It's a miracle we're both alive," she said flatly, eyes closed again as she tried to will herself out of her post-climax haze. She had to admit this was one of the strongest.

She heard some rustling, but didn't pay much attention to it. It was several moments later when she heard a barely audible moan. Her eyes flew open and she turned to you.

You were already watching her, meeting her gaze as your head was pressed back against the head rest and you rocked your hips against your fingers that you'd snuck into your panties while Jessie rested.

"If you're too tired, it's okay, I can always take care of myself."

An immediate rush of energy and arousal coursed through Jessie's body at seeing you touch yourself coupled with the flirtatious challenge you'd just issued. Her groin pulsed as blood began to rush back to her cock again.

Jessie growled at you as she undid her seatbelt and shifted towards you.

"I can take care of you," Jessie professed, nearly through grit teeth. "You don't need to do it yourself. It's my job to make you cum."

You released a small sigh of lust as you continued to play with your clit. "Oh, it's a job now, is it?" You still teased, a bit breathless. Jessie gave you a mischievous grin.

"You know it's the farthest thing from that." She glanced down at her cock that was already starting to swell with arousal. She whispered in your ear, pulling your earlobe between her teeth. "Look at what just the thought of making you cum is doing to me."

With no further delay, Jessie reached down into your pants, her hand covering yours and moving with your motions. She smiled at how you moaned, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of her face.

Jessie took over for you, her fingers slipping through your folds, coating her fingers in your arousal. She groaned, feeling another rush course up the length of her stiffening cock at how soaked you were. She couldn't resist slipping inside of you with how wet you were, you both moaned as she filled you and you spread your legs further.

"God, you're gorgeous," she told you as she slowly pumped in and out before withdrawing to rub your clit once more. Wet sounds filled the car as Jessie did so. "Oh babe," her voice wanting, "you seem to have enjoyed that head nearly as much as I did."

You whimpered, grinding your hips down against her fingers.

"I love making you cum," you told her as you ran your fingers through her hair, tossing her hat into the backseat. Your eyes were closed in pleasure as Jessie stimulated your sensitive nub. When you finally opened your eyes, your gaze was drawn to Jessie's rock hard cock. You let out a needy moan.

"I want you inside me," you said, already starting to move.

Jessie pulled away, fumbling at the side of her seat looking for the controls to shift her seat back, her mind unable to focus. As she moved her seat and reclined it some, you were removing your pants and underwear.

Jessie grabbed them out of your hands and tossed them into the back seat before swiftly reaching out and grasping your waist, helping you maneuver over the gear shift to settle on top of her.

In the flurry of urgency and need, you winced as you knocked your head against the roof of the car as you tried to figure out the right positioning in these tight quarters. Jessie and you shared a short laugh.

"Hold on," she said as she reclined her seat fully to give you more room.

You wasted no time in sinking down on Jessie, her holding her cock in place for you as you did so. You both moaned loudly.

"Oh fuck," Jessie said, blinking widely through the pleasure that swept over her at being sheathed inside of your hot core. "God damn," she said through gritted teeth as she gripped your waist tighter and started to rock her hips up into you.

"Oh my God, Jess," you breathed, your head thrown back. "You feel so fucking good inside of me." You moaned further. "You fill me so full."

"Fuck yeah, babe," Jessie grunted as she began to thrust into you with greater force already. "You're so tight around me. You could make me cum on the first thrust, I swear it."

A loud moan fell from your lips and you leaned your hands on Jessie's chest, now looking down at her and starting to ride her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head briefly as you took over, lifting up until Jessie's tip was stretching out your entrance before sinking back down and rocking your hips forward and doing it all over again.

"You are so beautiful," Jessie said adoringly as she moved her hands up to your rib cage and leaned up to kiss your chest.

The way you rode Jessie wasn't soft or gentle. You bounced down on to her thick cock hard and fast, with Jessie pumping up to meet your thrusts. You got lost in the moment, forgetting the confines of the space and hit your head again at the peak of a particularly wanton thrust.

"Shit!" You cursed, managing to not lose your rhythm.

"Oh shit," Jessie echoed, a brief laugh sneaking out though she still instinctually shot a hand out to belatedly protect the top of your head. "Are you okay?"

The moment of amusement and concern vanished as you continued to ride her, waves of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her as your tight heat enveloped and released her exquisitely. You braced your hand against the roof to anchor you.

"Just shut up and kiss me," you ordered.

She rose up to meet you, kissing you passionately, soon moaning into your kiss as the car rocked from your motions.

The lead up to all of this meant that both of your climaxes weren't far off. Jessie huffed in concentration as she stared up at your gorgeous form and did her best to hold her orgasm at bay. She tried to block out the realization that your cum was dripping down her cock and onto her thighs, maybe even onto the seat - the thought would drive her far too wild.

She was grateful when you began to whimper, the slapping of your thighs against her quickened and she knew you were on the brink. She sucked on your neck, not holding back like she normally would. It was just you two for the next few days, who cares if she marked you up.

"I need you to cum inside me," you begged as you bounced up and down.

"Oh fuck," Jessie breathed in reverie. She wrapped her arm around your back and propped her elbow against the middle console to thrust up into you more adamantly. "That's going to make me blow for sure." She shook her head in disbelief at you. "Anything for you."

You began to pulse, your core fluttering and tightening around Jessie's cock in a way that left her powerless. Within moments she was grunting, thrusting up into you as her own body tightened and soon indescribable rushes radiated through her body as she shot rope after rope of cum deep inside of you. Her hips jerked into you, all rhythm lost as the last drops of cum drained from her cock.

Jessie collapsed back onto the seat, you on top of her as you both took deep, rapid breaths as your orgasms faded.

"Jesus Christ, woman," Jessie said, unable to open her eyes as exhaustion took over her body in the afterglow of the second climax you gave her. "You're trying to kill me."

She felt you chuckle against her. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice," you teased. Jessie snickered and lazily brought a hand up to absently play with your hair.

You lay there together for several moments in one another's embrace. Jessie still hadn't opened her eyes and was seriously contemplating if a nap was in order before you both heard a far off noise.

You lifted yourself up slightly to peer out the back window and saw a car pulling over.

"Fuck," you hissed as you started to climb off Jessie, not remotely gracefully, honking the car accidentally as you did so and scaring the hell out of each other. "Oh my god," you gasped when Jessie popped out of you and a rush of cum spilled out onto her shorts.

"Fuck's sake!" Jessie exclaimed as she impulsively tried to wipe it away, but just spread it onto her shorts and hands inadvertently. "Oh God."

"They're coming," you hissed again as you were stretched out over the middle console trying to retrieve your pants that Jessie had so haphazardly discarded earlier.

"What the hell," Jessie cursed, her voice high in panic as she held her hands out in indecision before clueing back in and frantically tucking her cock away in her shorts and zipping them up while you scrambled to put on your pants.

She clocked the person nearing in her side mirror. She twisted in her seat to snatch up her hat and lay it flat on her shorts in an attempt to conceal the mess you two made.

You settled in your seat just as the person came up to the window. Jessie opened it and greeted him as normally as she could. From the way her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath and the heat she could feel across her face, she knew it was a lost cause.

The man took one look at you and Jessie, and the realization dawned on his face. He averted his eyes, scratching his temple before looking back at Jessie fleetingly.

"Uh, just saw you were pulled over. Wanted to make sure you folks were okay."

"Uh, yep. We're good," Jessie replied, her voice higher and more strained than she'd hoped.

"Yep. Okay, great," the man said as he began to turn away. "You, uh, both take care now."

"Will do! Thanks!" Jessie replied.

Jessie watched the man leave in the rearview mirror, both of you giving an awkward wave as he drove off. You both sat for a second before exhaling collectively. Jessie's face was beet red, she didn't need to check a mirror to know, but slowly a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced over at you, a blush adorning your cheeks as well. You held each other's gaze for a moment before you both dissolved into laughter.

You smacked Jessie's arm lightly as you gave her a playful glare.

"Hey!" Jessie laughed. "What am I getting in trouble for? You're the one who started this!"

You relented with an impish smirk. "Maybe so." You glanced down at her stained shorts with a nod. "Before we go, let me grab you a new pair of shorts."

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🔮A True Love Of Mine 🔮

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

tags: SFW, storms, fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, fear of thunder, love confessions, revelations, sleepy cuddles, lilia cuddles, palm reading

wc: ~ 4.1 k

summary: On your way home from town, you get caught in the rain and find shelter at Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings. That night, you learn things about yourself you never would've imagined.

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

The storm hit earlier than expected. You'd gone into town to stock up on ultrasonic cleaning solution and clock oil for your father as you did every other week—the walk wasn't too long and the scenery pretty—only today, the world was ending.

Or so it felt as you pushed forth through the wind lashing in your face and waded through the water that went up to your ankles and had soaked through into your lace-up boots. The raindrops pierced your face like needles, and your coat hung like seaweed from your shoulders, long and heavy, and had ceased to provide any kind of warmth. You made it down the road, cautious of the trees for they might fall, and reached a row of shops.

A nail salon, a shop with pool supplies, and between them, Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings. Since the nail salon was closed and the other shop didn't make the friendliest of impressions, you decided to try and find shelter with the psychic.

Water dripped from the ends of your hair, your nose, and your chin, and you felt like a wet dog. You just hoped you didn't smell like one, too. You approached the glass door, dusty as were the large shop windows, and pushed it open.

A bell chimed above your head, and thick oven warmth embraced you. It was a relief to your shaking, chilled form, and for a moment, you didn't take in anything else but this.

When you opened your eyes again, an array of plants greeted you, which you assumed the owner must've brought in when the storm had reared its ugly face. The interior was colourful, filled to the brim with crystals and knickknacks, with grand drapes on every window, one of which had been decorated with shards of painted glass hung up on a thread. It was so unlike your father's workshop with its dark, antique furniture, the grandfather clocks, the worn carpet—despite your best efforts to bring life into it with some fairy lights and lace tablecloth. This looked homey and inviting.

...unlike the owner, who stepped through the beaded curtain that separated the shop from her private quarters, you assumed, looking nothing short of intimidating.

And there you were, dripping on her Persian rug.

"Um... M-madame C-c-calderu?" you stuttered with chattering teeth.

You expected to get yelled at by the older lady, but the moment she realised you were soaked to the bone, she slipped off her knitted cardigan and rushed to you, muttering, "Oh, honey, oh honey."

She laid it around your shoulders and rubbed your upper arms with her warm, wrinkled hands. "You're drenched, dear." She studied your face with knitted eyebrows. "And your lips are blue, Divine Mother..."

One of her grey curls that framed her face bounced whenever she moved her head. She must be in her seventies, but was still exceptionally beautiful.

"May I—wait out the—s-storm here?" you asked, on the verge of tears from how frozen you were. The tip of your nose, your fingers, your toes—they all ached as if they were about to fall off.

"What a silly question!" She ushered you to sit in a floral-patterned armchair surrounded by countless candles. "I'll get you some dry clothes, girl."

And off she went, through the beaded curtain again, and you sat trying not to freeze to death. The storm raged outside, sent everything that wasn't fixed flying across the road, and bent the trees to breaking. It was early in the evening, but the dense clouds had darkened the sky as if it were almost night.

You set your shopping bag on the ground and rubbed your palms over your thighs to warm them up. Madame Calderu returned a moment later with a folded stack of clothes and towels and set them down on the side table, handing you a towel first and taking one herself.

"Dry up as best as you can and then slip into these. They're from when I was younger," she chuckled, "so might fit you somewhat."

"Thank you so much," you said, and she gave you a warm smile that made your heart squeeze.

It was nothing compared to the leap it made when she began to dry your hair for you while you dragged the towel across your arms and chest. She wrapped the ends of your long, dirty blonde waves up and wrung them out. With her own unruly curls, she must know how to care for hair properly. Her fingers moved to your scalp and massaged it with the towel, and you almost moaned at the feeling.

"Better now, darling?" She stepped back in front of you, and you missed her touch already, but nodded.

"Much."

"Then get changed while I make tea." She took the wet towels with her and turned over her shoulder to say, "Come to the back when you're done."

-> continue

[kisses4reid]

date night | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you’re late for date night after your own kindness distracts you, but aaron doesn’t care as long as you’re with him.

genre - fem!reader x aaron, reader has a job not at the bau (you can decide), fluffy fluff, date night, selfless reader, angst if you squint really close??

warnings - light swearing, r being rained on, blabbering and near crying, haley doesn’t exist neither does jack

w/c - it’s short. trust me.

a/n - pov: pia asks for requests, starts writing those requests, and instead uploads an original fic. enjoy!!! (this is from a year ago so beware the writing. i just need to upload something before the engagement goes down 😭)

It got dark quicker this evening. A storm was approaching, you could tell by the drizzle outside of your office window. Your colleagues were already packed up, waiting for you, and you shot them a small smile and scurried to pull on your jacket.

In the elevator there was a rumble, a girl you had begun to get close with gripped your arm obviously scared and you looked at her concerned. Her eyes batted at you and all you could do was squeeze her arm in reassurance - you weren’t going to point out her fear in an elevator of office men. She looked great, a nice dress shirt, hair done nicely. You recalled her giddy whispers from that morning, I have a date tonight!

The excitement felt weirdly familiar, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

And although the restaurant she was going to was close by, you still worried about the rain.

See, you often opted for the outdoor afternoon stroll, but now the dark clouds had rolled over and it felt more like walking home at night with no moon as your guide.

You waved your friend goodbye and stepped out from the covers of your office building, into the rainy street with a thin pink umbrella overhead. Your small heels clicked against the roads, your jacket barely saving you from the chill, and you set off to your fiancé’s apartment. Your apartment now, you reminded yourself.

The trees lining the avenues and backroads swayed in the rain that was starting to pound harder, and the puddles you avoided started to get, well, unavoidable. You had always loved rain. Spending the weekend snuggled against the large window of your apartments living room with a good book and a warm drink was one of your favourite things to do, but right now you slightly cursed the storm and wondered why you didn’t check the weather app this morning like you always do.

Your sole focus was seeing your fiancé, and yet when your attention catches on a struggling older lady, you can’t help but step through mud to help.

“Shit.” A shorter lady, maybe in her late 50’s, was pull a wagon of flowers and plants along the sidewalk, and each step she took, the back left wheel would spin uncontrollably or not spin at all.

You scurried over and approached the woman, talking from across the wagon, “Can I help you with this?”

The woman’s face crinkled with relief and she nodded furiously causing you to smile back.

Helping people was your way of paying back the world for how well it treated you (most of the time). Your parents were constantly helping others and you had no choice but to follow suit. And at times your friends had to tell you to calm it down, saying you were being selfless and sometimes even a pushover.

That didn’t stop you.

“Thank you so much! My legs are getting too old for this.” You pulled the wagon up by its back legs and moved with the woman to pull it under cover, closer to what you assumed to be her flower shop. She locked up the store promptly and thanked you again but you stopped her.

She was dressed in a lovely floral dress, a thick cotton apron and small ballet flats and you just couldn’t stand to see that outfit go to waste. You held out the handle of the pink umbrella, rain immediately dampening your hair.

The lady held a wrinkled hand to her heart and placed a red-lipsticked kiss on your cheek. Your heart sank slightly, realising you would not be coming home in the state you wanted to. It wasn’t like Aaron would care, it was your own worries about ruining the apartment’s carpet and probably the elevator too.

You started down the street, not attempting to avoid puddles or mud anymore, just attempting to hide under bus stop covers when you could. The rain was truly heavy now, but luckily you were only a block away from your apartment.

“Hi Aaron Hotchner.”

“Hi Y/n Hotchner.” His hair was combed nicely and he was still in his work suit, he looked stoic and so manly - you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His large hands took your jacket off and a cheeky smile slipped on his face. “Why are you drenched?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He definitely remembered you taking your umbrella before you left for work.

“Oh I,” you sighed, knowing you would get a small scold for your actions, “I walked in the rain.”

Aaron sighed, knowing you were lying for your and his own good. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You pouted, “I didn’t know if you’d be home.” You moved yourself further down the hall, Aaron trying but failing to keep you back. He clenched his fists as you stopped at the end of the hall in shock, you were supposed to close your eyes.

You held a hand over your mouth and let your eyes wander the room. Your dining table was decorating with candles and petals, there was an amazing smell coming from the kitchen and suddenly you felt the whole world crash onto you. How could you forget about date night?

“Oh my god, Aaron. Aaron, I am so sorry I completely forgot, oh my god.”

Aaron moved in front if you, a small smile adorning his handsome face, “Hey it’s okay, I understand it was raining and your umbrella magically disappeared. I only got here 10 minutes ago, I wasn’t waiting or anything.”

“Aaron I ruined it I mean- Look at me!” You looked down and extended your arms to motion at your whole being. Drenched dress, stuck hair, a shivering disaster.

“What do you mean-“

“My makeup is trashed, and- and my hair. There’s leaves in my hair! I’m wet and now your suit’s wet and- oh Aaron I’m so sorry, I don’t look like a good date at all.” Shoulders slumped, eyes tearing up, you looked down at your feet and felt your heart attacking your ribs.

“You don’t have to be sorry honey. I should be the one sorry, I didn’t think to come find you so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain.” He placed two fingers under your chin to lift your gaze back to his, and moved his other hand to pluck out a leaf from your hair.

“I ruined our date.”

“No you didn’t.” Aaron talked smoothly and low, as if you coming home looking like you’d been to hell and back wasn’t concerning him at all.

“Aaron I look horrible.”

“You look…”

“Awful? Hideous? Like Poseidon put me on a hit list?” You brought a hand up to wipe your eyes of slightly smudged mascara before Aaron’s larger hand caught it.

“You look beautiful. You look gorgeous, like always.” His eyes stared deep into yours, his hand squeezing around yours.

“… Thank you.” You sniffled, “You should just break up with me now.”

“Eh, that engagement ring was too much to let you go that fast.” He twisted your hand slightly to smile at the dazzling ring on your left hand. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and leaned in to place a loving kiss on your trembling lips before he caught a glance of something and paused. “How’d you get that red mark on your cheek?”

“Oh- I helped a lady out with her flower cart because it was stuck in the rain. And then I gave her my umbrella, and she kissed me on the cheek.”

He pulled back, sighing, “Y/n…”

“Her dress was very pretty, and I could tell her hair was freshly permed, okay. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled cheekily.

“You’re unbelievable.” He couldn’t help but smile, he knew his girl was unforgivably selfless. Aaron took your hand and lead you to your bedroom so you could change for your date.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He leant against the doorframe, “I meant it as a good thing. Let’s eat, and then we can shower, and you can tell me about your day was.”

You opened your closet and sighed, “I’m really sor-“

“Don’t say sorry. You can apologies but wearing something nice and complimenting my subpar cooking.” He shot you a charming smile that warmed your heart and exited to set up the food, all you could think of is how lucky you were to have him.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

[scoutofmymind]

can u please write something about how like reader felt while luigi was missing for 6 months. like would he reach out, would she go with him etc. also i love ur stories 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Run — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: sfw, angst, friends to lovers, slight situationship vibe, reader is an artist, kissing, heartbreak, explores ideas of guilty Luigi.

Wc: 2,345

Notes; Luigi vanishes - no warning, no footprints, just the sudden hollow where your life used to fit against his, opening to six months of silence before his letter appears under your door, bearing coordinates to a payphone five blocks away.

You didn't know where you'd be six months later when Luigi drove you down to the lake in his old Bronco, your spot shotgun worn from all those midnight trips for ice cream, the two of you off-roading through patches of corn fields out in the boonies — afterward he'd drop you off at home in the city, then drive himself back to the suburbs, unless he fell asleep in your room despite insisting he couldn't stay because of morning classes.

He always found it hard to leave you.

June warmed the brown leather beneath you, the window cracked to let in the summer air sweetened with hay as Luigi sped down the winding back roads of the countryside, rambling about his sister's new donkey they'd keep at the farm — the Mangione's second, more humble mansion with its livestock and respectable Christmas tree operation.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?" He'd turned to look at you, the old truck thrown into park at the Dairy Queen after you'd convinced him the donkey could wait.

"Yeah." You nodded, cheeks full of ice cream, brows furrowed. You didn't notice then how his face had flushed red, embarrassed at blurting something so obvious it had never needed questioning. "Who else would you have time for?"

School, tech clubs, part-time job, and you.

Those were the pillars Luigi had built his life around, and for years, it had worked.

You and Luigi could fill a room with laughter —obnoxious howls and high-pitched giggle fits that echoed off walls — or sink into comfortable silence, Luigi drifting toward sleep while you lost yourself in whatever new book he'd brought for you to borrow from the university library.

Your own schedule mirrored his in its fullness, though school took a backseat to your collection of side hustles, your primary source of income selling art pieces at local markets where you'd drag Luigi along to showcase your most treasured works.

"That's a good point." He shot you a grin, spoon dangling upside down from his mouth as he finally broke his gaze from yours to stare out at the tall grass swaying beyond the windshield. "I just hope you know that."

You shift to pull your knees up in the passenger seat, turning to face him with your back against the door. "Feeling sappy again, are you?" Your foot stretches to nudge his knee, the leather creaking beneath you. "S'alright. I like when you get all soft."

Just the week before, Luigi's heart had been sitting too close to the surface, everything managing to touch a nerve — the way his mother spoke about his future over Sunday dinner, how his professor had dismissed his latest project idea, and even the changing spring weather that threatened the saplings he planted last fall.

Eventually, he recalibrated, but that raw tenderness still surfaced in waves.

"Yeah, maybe." Luigi shrugged, leaning over to dig his spoon into your ice cream, stealing a taste. "I just think it's worth saying. A reminder never hurts."

You'd never wanted to invalidate Luigi's feelings — and while you loved to tease him, you'd never dismiss what he shared. He was a natural at expressing himself when he chose to, and you knew if he voiced something, it meant those feelings ran deep.

"You're right, Lu." You say softly, letting your knees drop as you lean toward him, patting his thigh. "Thank you for telling me." He turns to you, his lips curling into that familiar grin. "You're my best friend too. Obviously."

"I know it's obvious," he groans, stealing yet another spoonful of your ice cream, your reflexes failing you when you jerk the cup away. "Let me just fuckin' say it." The late afternoon sun catches in his dark curls, the sun setting over the field.

You wave your hands in surrender, "Alright, alright." A laugh spills from your lips as you lean forward, spoon stretching toward his cup, missing entirely when he pulls it just out of reach. The melting ice cream drips onto the weathered console between you. "C'mon, lemme try."

He shoves a heaping spoonful into his mouth, eyebrows lifting in that familiar challenge, dimples deepening as a muffled "Come get it" drifts across the console, and the invitation draws you across the seat into his lap, the old leather protesting beneath your shifting weight while his free hand automatically found its place at your waist to steady you.

It wasn't the first time you'd tasted ice cream from his mouth, sweet and cold and mingled with laughter — but it would be the last.

And by some cruel twist of fate, that sun-drenched afternoon in his car, with melting ice cream and shared breaths, would be the final time you'd see Luigi's face in person.

After that day, he'd only exist in grainy security footage and missing person flyers.

It's a specific kind of agony, one that lives beneath your ribs.

You searched every corner of his life — the obvious hiding spots and the secret ones only you knew about. The Bronco yielded nothing but old receipts and a forgotten hoodie that still smelled like him.

You harassed mutual friends until they stopped answering, reached out to people who barely knew him, desperate for any trace.

"If Luigi doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Andrew told you, defeated after failing to track any of his devices that had sat abandoned in his room, right there on his desk to be found. Wiped clean. Stranger-cold.

Even your face was gone from his lock screen, erased like everything else.

Sometimes you wondered if you imagined him entirely.

It would be easier than accepting how methodically he vanished, how carefully he erased himself from your world. But then you'll find evidence — a movie ticket stub, a photo booth strip tucked into an old book. The careful progression from strangers to friends to best friends to that unnamed thing you became.

The way you'd end up tangled in his sheets, his hand gentle at your throat, or how you'd hang up on him three seconds into a call because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

It couldn't have been real — how could someone who claimed to love every scattered piece of you leave without taking any of them with him?

Therapy wasn't optional anymore.

Your friends watched you spiral into something darker than even middle school heartbreak, something that wrapped around your organs and threaded itself through your bones.

This wasn't the kind of pain that faded; it evolved, grew thorns, made itself at home in your marrow.

But talking helped.

Six months without Luigi became possible, then probable, then real — not because you wanted it, but because the alternative was letting yourself disappear, too.

The letter arrives alone on a Tuesday, no bills or wedding invitations to keep it company, just your name in that familiar scrawl that makes your stomach drop. "What do you think?" you whisper to Mario, who's wagging his tail like he knows something you don't, nudging the envelope across the hardwood with his nose.

Luigi named Mario when you got him as a puppy six years ago; Mario, because he thought they’d become more of a duo than the two of you had been.

And that, they did.

"Mar, quit it," you mutter, wrestling the envelope from under his paw where he's planted himself like a furry anchor. The paper is damp from his nose, and it takes four tries to open it without destroying whatever's inside. Your hands won't stop shaking. "The fuck is this."

Eight words stare back at you.

December 3rd, 8:15PM. Pay phone outside of Murphy's on 12th.

Mario presses his cold nose against the back of the paper as you stare down at it, inhaling deeply like he's trying to memorize something. His tail wags so hard his whole body sways, but then a whine escapes him — low and confused.

You know that sound; It's the same one he makes when he finds one of Luigi's old shirts in the back of your closet, when he can smell what he's looking for but can't find it.

The paper crumples in your fist as Mario leans against your legs, still whining softly. Six months of therapy, of learning to breathe around the hollow space Luigi left behind, of convincing yourself that moving forward meant letting go — and here he is, eight words dropping into your life like a lit match.

Still, you march yourself there.

Mario decided somewhere in these six months that he needed to be more than just a wagging tail and sloppy kisses. He took Luigi's place as protector, navigator, watchful eyes scanning every shadow as you cut through familiar alleyways to Murphy's corner.

Your phone reads

8:20

"Shit." You glance down at Mario, who's pressed against your leg, his head tilted back to study your face with those knowing brown eyes. "Fuck this." The words taste like surrender as you pocket your phone, but Mario plants himself like a furry statue, refusing to let you move.

"Mar, c'mon." Your voice cracks, but he stays rooted until that first metallic ring cuts through the night air. The payphone looks ancient, probably witness to a thousand desperate conversations, a thousand promises made and broken against its scratched plastic shell, and whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Mario's ears prick forward at the second ring.

His tail, which hasn't stopped moving since you left the apartment, goes suddenly still.

The third ring echoes off brick walls, and you realize your hand is already reaching for the receiver, and before you can even press the phone to your ear, his name escapes like a prayer: "Lu — Luigi?" Your voice wavers between accusation and hope, sharp but fragile at the edges.

Through the static, you hear breathing — that familiar rhythm you could still map in your sleep.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?"

The words hit like a physical force.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tilting your head back against tears that threaten to spill. "Where are you, Lu?" The receiver trembles in your white-knuckled grip like it might hold some piece of him. "I'm sorry I showed up late."

"I knew you would." His voice is soft, almost lost beneath a symphony of distant horns and city life —sounds too big, too foreign for the quiet streets you both grew up in. "8:15 is an odd time, hm? Figured more like 8:30 would be when you actually showed. Surprised you answered this one."

"How are you?" You keep your question careful, safe — one that won't send him running back into silence, into six more months of nothing; and now this strange urban backdrop paints him somewhere far beyond your reach.

“I miss you.” Luigi says softly, words he’d said plenty before, but they had never carried this sort of weight. “That’s how I am, I guess.”

Why did you leave me, then?

Please tell me where you are.

Whatever it is, Lu, we can fix it.

“I miss you too.” Is what you say instead, the line keeping him here with you feeling much like a fading spirit, destined to disappear any moment if you didn’t watch your step. “Mario is lost without you.”

“Ah, he’s a big boy.” Luigi sniffles softly, and you can tell he’s trying to hide it. “Been taking care of you, hasn’t he?”

Your head bobs in a nod he'll never see, and suddenly grief hits like a physical blow, doubling you over in the cracked vinyl booth. A sob tears through you, raw and feral, ripping up those poisoned vines of betrayal that have wound themselves through every hollow space he left behind.

"Please come back, Lu. I can't—" The words strangle in your throat as you curl deeper into the booth's shadow, pressing your forehead against the phone hook.

You're trying to fold yourself smaller, to disappear from the fluorescent exposure of Murphy's front windows, from the pitying glances of late-night sidewalk wanderers who pretend not to notice the spectacle of your breakdown.

"I can't, baby." Luigi's whisper barely exists, a breath caught between static and silence, but you strain toward it like a dying plant toward light. "It can't work that way — there's nothing either of us can do about it."

Questions bloom like bruises under your skin.

Is he sleeping in a real bed?

Has he shaved?

Who's making sure he remembers to eat?

You bite down on your lip until you taste copper, trying to dam the flood of 'why's' threatening to spill out. Each suppressed question burns like bile in your throat. He's already thrust the blade in deep — watching him twist it with such gentle hands makes it somehow worse.

"I just needed you to know I was safe." His voice shifts, crystallizing into something harder, something that sounds less like your Luigi and more like whoever he's becoming. "And that I love you. I needed you to know that."

"I love you." The words fall into a sudden void as the city sounds cut out on the other line, replaced by a sharp fizz of static, and then nothing.

You press the receiver harder against your ear, as if you could force his voice back through sheer desperation, and the tone eventually starts its monotonous song, but you can't make yourself hang up.

You wait in that phone booth for an hour, then two.

The neon signs paint wet streaks of color across the glass, and your legs go numb from standing, but you wait for a call back.

It never comes.

Monday morning's headlines make everything brutally clear.

His name in bold print.

The investigation.

The evidence trail leading nowhere and everywhere at once.

And suddenly you understand why he couldn't stay, why he had to hear your voice one last time, and you wish to God you didn't.

Because now you know he wasn't running from something.

He was running toward it.

[choccorin]

thinking about living in the mountains with kento.

you’d wake up in peaceful mornings—no irritating sounds of beeping cars and road rage, just the faint singing of a few birds outside your shared bedroom window, the whirring of the electrical fan, and the soft clattering in the kitchen. the two of you love surprising each other with breakfast, though it’s mostly him because he wakes up earlier than you. each breakfast that he serves always comes with a few slices of bread, whether it be sourdough or even banana bread, whatever matches the dish he made that morning.

you’d spend the afternoon lying on the couch with him. your legs rested up on his lap while the both of you read two different books, occasionally chatting with the other on how the story’s going on in their book. did the main character finally confess their undying love to the love interest? or did the lost cat finally find its way back home? sometimes these catch-ups would go even longer until the two of you forget about the books you're reading and you make your way into the comfort of his warm embrace and take an afternoon nap.

the two of you would spend the evening making dinner, mostly him, though, again. he doesn't want your clumsiness to ruin the food or hurt yourself. you can just sit on the counter and watch him be the perfect house husband he was made for.

after eating dinner and washing the dishes, you two would go outside on the porch and sit on the swing that he personally made based on your request; you said that it would look great and would add character to the house. it’s also great when you want to spend time outside, may it be admiring the bustling trees or the midnight sky. and he couldn't agree more.

the view you get each night is certainly mesmerizing, better than the eye-sore-causing lights back in the city.

thirty minutes would go by before you pull him up and make him dance with you on the grass, barefoot. it’s not advised to dance without shoes outside, but who is he to deny the love of his life?

he pulls you close in between his arms, and as the both of you slow dance, he hums the two of you’s favorite song. you wrap your arms around his neck and place your head on his chest, feeling every vibration coming from it as he hums.

the both of you could dance barefoot on the grass for hours and never get sick of it, as long as you two are together. 

kento looks up at the star-filled sky and back at you, admiring every detail on your face—even in the dark. he pulls you even closer, wanting your body to sink into him, and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. a five-second long kiss that's filled with the affection he feels for you. you look up at him and give him the brightest smile, a smile that rivals the sun and stars.

and at that moment, kento thinks knows that he finally achieved his dream life. a peaceful life away from the crowded streets, and a house that’s filled with love, warmth, and solace, and he found it all from you.

[revelboo]

I forgot, have you ever written Sunstorm? Might be a cool one to try! Reader finds him in a nuclear power plant (gotta get that yummy enriched uranium) (that’s a joke but it would be funny)

I keep thinking about it now. You always give me the hardest characters, first Metroplex, now this irradiated, raving lunatic. 🤣 I’m just going to BS a way for reader to survive him instead of insta-death from radiation poisoning.

Love Me Dead

Sunstorm x Reader

• What was that? Slowing down in the road, you turn your spotlight onto the fence lining the road. Or the lack of. Something had taken out a huge swath of it. A drunk driver running off the road? Pulling over, you park and walk through the ruined chain link fence, playing your flashlight over the damage. Why did it have to be here? Aiming higher, you think you can see one of the cooling towers through the trees. Know the place was decommissioned and that the lingering radiation is negligible, but you still don’t like it.

• Swinging the flashlight beam to play over the trees, you catch a glimpse of yellow deeper in. A pulse of fitful light. “You okay?” Calling out, your voice is swallowed by the night. Too hurt to answer? Moving closer, your breath hitches as you keep moving toward that faint glow. Watching it pulse and dance. You have no idea what it is, but it’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. Swearing softly as you get close enough to realize it’s not a wrecked car you’re seeing, though your brain can’t make sense of it either. A mangled mess. Skin crawling as your light reveals a giant face.

• Drifting in and out of restless recharge, he’s not sure what’s real and what’s only in his processor. Only that he can’t fail now. This is only a new trial, a test to ensure his worthiness as the hand of Primus. Betrayed and only barely escaping his allies and not without damage. All because they can’t believe his truth. Think he’s insane. Is something there approaching him? Or just another phantom?

• Mangled glass and metal and that dancing light. Hearing that hum deep in your bones as you reach out. The rational part of your brain jangling alarm bells, warning you that anything that pretty is probably dangerous. To stop. That you don’t even know what it is. It’s like you’re possessed, body moving on its own. And that dancing will o’ the wisp arcs to meet your fingertips and you go rigid realizing you just made a horrible mistake.

• Jolting to awareness as that shock of connection slams through him, he hisses through his denta. Feels his spark snaring and tangling with you, that euphoric high making him shudder on a groan. Trying to understand what you are as he wraps himself more firmly around your fragile light. Thoughts and emotions not his own spilling into him, a life he’d never lived his to experience. A gift given to him, a reward for not losing faith, for not faltering in his belief. And then your panic and fear slices into him so visceral it hurts as he delves deeper into you. Claiming what was offered freely.

• Can’t break that connection as something spills like poison into you. Feeling seen and judged as he engulfs you until you’re drowning in him. Feeling that madness become a tide threatening to pull you under. Feeling him. Sunstorm. A name to go with that face floating through your mind, those thoughts that aren’t yours. And you can’t escape, as he digs in deeper, refusing to let you go. Whispering that you made an offering. Giving him something you hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t realized you could give as you grieve that loss and he wraps tighter around you, his thoughts whispering in yours, brushing against you in shivers of chaos and conviction that this is right. Meant to be.

Next

[youleftmenochoicebut]

hiii saw ur post ab requests and i was wondering if you could do some morning fluff with rick like one of the first few days they arrive at alexandria and reader and rick have been sleeping on the floor of the living room with the rest of the group and now that everyone was settled in they left to their own house and reader and rick take the master bedroom and they’re just like waking up after the first night that they’ve slept peacefully and idk some stuff ab judith being a cute baby and carl being happy that his dad looks happier now just fluffy family morning stuff (rick being touchy) THANK YOU UR AN ICON xoxoxoxo

HYPNOTIC.

pairing. — rick grimes x fem!reader

summary. — it feels surreal to finally feel somehow at peace after months of being non-stop on the road.

warnings. — fluff, may be a bit off when it comes to the timing and all cause i haven’t watched twd in a while, age gap (its a rick fic, duh), use of y/n

a/n. — of course inspiration comes to me when i have to study! thanks for the request!! i love rick sm it’s concerning.

the morning sunlight hits you harder then you thought it would, the rays of sunshine making you blink awake. for a moment your body is back in fight-or-flight mode, your mind confused and sure you’re still out there. it makes you jolt up, and only when you take in your surroundings, you feel yourself relax again.

you’re safe. or at least as safe as you can be in a closed community of people you and your group don’t know or trust. you sigh, stretching your hands over your head with a yawn, and glance down at the empty space next to you on the bed. it’s cold, so Rick must’ve left your bed quite some time ago. you go to brush your teeth, brushing out your messy hair while you’re in the bathroom, and decide to go find your boyfriend.

it’s still strange to call him that. your boyfriend. and your relationship isn’t one that happened gradually. it actually just… happened. one night, a few weeks ago, when you where trying to find any crumble of left civilization with the rest of your group, the dam broke. Rick has opened his heart and mind to you, the only person who’s always been caring and patient with him ever since that first meeting at the farm. it ended in a sloppy makeout session against one of the trees, desperately not wanting to wake anyone up. and that’s how it went, the two of you being together ever since.

you smile to yourself as you make your way downstairs, bare feet not making much noise on the wooden steps, and you deliberately stop in the entry to the kitchen. the sight melts your soul then and there, Judith sat on the kitchen island with Rick moving around the space and cooking. he’s actually cooking, humming under his breath and murmuring something to Judith every few seconds even if the one year old can’t answer. you see Carl too, the teenage boy perched up on one of the stools, watching his dad with a grin on his face.

Carl is also the first one to notice you, and you swear his smile brightens when he does, waving at you to come closer.

„good morning, sleepyhead.” Rick turns to face you, and you realize he’s fresh shaven, the lack of beard aging him backwards a good couple of years. you raise your eyebrows while you approach him, reaching out your hands to put them on his cheeks.

„morning.” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to lean in and plant a quick peck against his lips, pulling back as fast. „i kinda liked the beard.” you muse, looking over his shoulder to see what he’s cooking.

your mouth waters, the scent of eggs filling your nostrils and you smile down at the pan. only a few seconds pass before you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pressing his torso onto your back and leaving soft kisses over the skin of your shoulder and neck. it’s sweet and domestic, the kind he gives in public, not like the ones he gives you when you’re hot and bothered in some private spot for a quickie.

„oh yeah? well then, i’ll just have to grow it out again.” he rasps out into your ear, and you nod, making yourself the boss in the situation again, glancing up at Carl.

„two eggs or three?” you ask the boy softly, meanwhile his father keeps attacking you with light caresses. „no, don’t answer that. you’re getting three.”

Carl only chuckles and he looks like he’s pondering over something before deciding against it in his head, just nodding.

the four of you eat your breakfast in relative silence, you feeding yourself and Judith at the same time, the little girl an embodiment of an angel. Rick leaves right after breakfast, your lips meeting his in a long, passionate kiss after which he walks out the door, so you’re left with the kids.

you start to gather up the dirty dishes, skipping over to the sink with the plates and forks, putting on the water. for a moment you stare at the droplets, a sigh escaping your mouth, and soon you start washing all the platters.

“Y/N…” Carl says suddenly, and you almost jump up, honestly thinking the boy had walked away by now, and you turn around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“i’m glad you’re with my dad.” he adds with a small smile, shrugging as he runs his fingers through his hair. “he’s happy again. like he was before the apocalypse.”

your heart flutters at his comment, and you smile back at him, shaking your head. “i’m glad i’m with your dad too, Carl.”

[darkeralmond]

POOL BOY || J.F

Jeremiah Fisher x fem! Reader

synopsis: Y/N’s mother had an emergency meeting at the country club which leaves Y/N is home alone with the pool boy, Jeremiah. After working for hours with no breaks, you invite him to come inside to get some water.

warnings: smut 18+, oral sex, m! receiving, fem! receiving, fingering, praising

word count: 2.1k

A/N: I was scrolling on TikTok and a vid by @nick_grajeda popped up about them talking about their roleplay fantasies and one of them was pool boy. Jeremiah instantly came to mind so I went to working immediately. FIRST TIME I’VE WRITTEN SMUT IN FOREVER.

masterlist | request info

It was the middle of a hot July summer in Cousins. Your mom had important business to run at the country club down the road of your house, leaving you alone with your pool boy, Jeremiah Fisher.

He wasn’t a local like you. He only came during the summers with his family and family friends. Your mother hired him a few summers ago after she got the new position as head executive chef at the country club. For those past few summers he spent cleaning the pool, you’d watch as he did so occasionally sparking conversation here and there. He was older than you by a few months which fueled your desire to have him even more.

You convinced yourself that you wanted to be helpful and wash the dishes for your mother and father to come home to. There was a window right over the sink which overlooked the pool, so your helpful antics were only an excuse to watch Jeremiah as he worked.

He swept around the pool deck, getting rid of the dirt and leaves that fell from the trees that were planted right next to the pool for some reason. He had been out there for a couple hours just working. She knew he had to have been tired and hot from working in the direct sunlight for that long without a break. His white tank top had sweat stains on it due to him using the fabric as a towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

You knew this  was your chance to spark a conversation with him. You walked away from the sink and toward the sliding doors that lead out to the backyard. You walked out to your porch and leaned against the railing. “Jeremiah,” you called out to him. He didn’t even look up, he just kept sweeping, so you yelled a little louder. “Jeremiah!”

His head perked up and looked in your direction as he took an Airpod out of his ear. “Hey, Y/n!” He had a wide smile on his face. He lifted the sunglasses off his eyes and placed them on the top of his curly blonde hair. There were so many features of Jeremiah you loved, but your favorite had to either be his beautiful blue eyes that were the same color as the ocean. A close runner up was the dimples that appeared when he smiled.

“You’ve been working hard. You want to come in and get some water?” you asked, tilting your head. A slight breeze blew your hair back and caused your white skirt to ride up slightly, showing a glimpse of your upper thighs.

“Sure!” He placed the broom next to a poolside chair and made his way to the porch where you were. You smiled as you entered the kitchen and opened up the fridge. You grabbed an ice cold bottle of water and looked back at him.

He shut the door after he entered and used the bottom of his tank top to wipe his forehead again. This gave you a peak at his sun kissed abs. Your face flushed bright red as you took a quick glance at his stomach before looking away. You turned back around a second later hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring or your embarrassment. “Here you go!” You handed him his bottle, taking your time to admire his strong, lean arm muscles.

He thanked you before downing half of the water. The movement of his neck as he chugged. The water that dripped down his chin. It all felt too erotic for you to bear. You couldn’t stand to see him like this any longer. He placed the bottle back down on the kitchen island and wiped the excess water off his face with the back of his hand.

Most people when they sweat had an overbearing smell of body odor that oozed out of them. Not Jeremiah, he wasn’t like most people. He sweated the scent of his umber cologne, a nice mix of pine and musk, that mixed into an intoxicating aroma.

“Thanks for the water,” he said again, smiling at you. His mouth opened a little wider than it usually did and you could see one of his small canine teeth sticking out from underneath. You found yourself staring at his teeth for much too long. “Y/N?” Jeremiah tilted his head curiously. “Everything okay?” He sounded almost… concerned. You blinked and then realized that you must have zoned out and just stared at him like a creep.

You shook yourself mentally and tried not to look embarrassed, “Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry.” You turned around and focused on what dishes you needed to finish before your mom got home.

He sighed and ran his hands through his wet dark blond curls, pushing back the sweaty locks. “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “I don’t mind. I know my charm can be annoying sometimes.” He smiled softly and looked at you. You quickly glanced at him and blushed before turning back around and finishing the dishes.

‘How dare he say such things!’ You thought to yourself. You heard footsteps and turned your head to meet Jeremiah’s gaze. “I have a small question for you, Y/N.”  He raised a brow.

You nodded for him to ask his question. “What’s up?” you asked.

It was so quick you almost missed it. “Are you single?”

Your jaw dropped, “I am. What’s this about?” Did he really just ask me that? You thought as you struggled to keep the excitement off your face.

“Good,” he said, “because I’ve been wondering if you're ever gonna kiss me.”  Your jaw dropped more.

“Kiss you?!” you replied. “Why haven’t you asked me out yet?!”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I was kind of hoping you’d do it instead.” That was another thing you didn’t expect him to admit. You always assumed he wouldn’t give two shits if you did or didn’t ask him out. He seemed to be very confident and cocky that his charm would sweep you off your feet, but you weren’t sure how true his confidence was now.

You said, “Jeremiah-”

“You have no idea how much I want you, Y/N.”  He cut you off and stepped closer to you. Your heart began beating rapidly faster.

His eyes stared directly into yours. He was close enough you could feel his body heat emanating from him. His skin looked soft and tan compared to the pale complexion of the other men in Cousins. He was the best looking guy here, you were sure of it.

Without another thought, you said, “Prove it then.” Your voice was shaky. You hoped he would pick up on it. He smirked before leaning forward, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss, slowly moving to deepen it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely while his hands held onto your waist. You leaned up against the kitchen counter while you kissed. He tasted sweet like honey with the faint taste of mint. You parted your lips slightly allowing him to push a tongue inside your mouth to explore further. After a moment, you started to move your hips in response to the kiss, pressing yourself against his shaft and making him groan slightly.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath. “Jeremiah,” you whimpered quietly as you parted lips once more. His fingers dug into your hips lightly before gently running up your sides, resting at the skin underneath your skirt.

You felt him smirk into the kiss causing goosebumps to form across your skin. Your hips rolled harder against his body, feeling his erection poking through his boxers. You pulled away from the kiss and took in a deep inhale of air.

“Do you want to do this?” you asked. You knew you wanted this. You wanted Jeremiah.

“Yes.” He reached down, pulling his zipper down. You watched as his pants dropped to the floor revealing his erection.

You got down on your knees against the hard wooden floor and pulled back your hair. You wrapped your finger around the base, slowly stroking him. You licked the tip before sucking it into your mouth.

Jeremiah let out a low moan followed by a sharp intake of air as his grip tightened on your shoulders. “Please...” he whispered. You took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. Your tongue lapped at his engorged shaft. You took him deeper and faster with each stroke. “Slow down. I want this to last longer,” he begged.

You slowed your stroking pace like he had requested. You wanted to make him feel good, that was the whole point of a blow job. His fingers found themselves tasseled in your hair as groans escaped through his lips. Finally you heard his last groan before he met his climax in your mouth.

It hit the back of your throat causing you to cough and spit out his semen. “I’m sorry!” He immediately apologized.

You laughed, wiping the substance off your face. “You’re okay! Just shocked me.” You grabbed the water he was drinking earlier and drank some to get the flavor out of your mouth.

Jeremiah grabbed a towel from a drawer and wiped himself clean before pulling his boxers and shorts back up. He cleaned up the spot where you spit out his cum. “Now I wanna treat you right,” he said.

Your eyes widened as you met his. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Like I said; I want to show you how serious I am.” He smirked before reaching out his hand to touch your cheek. “How about you get nice and comfortable on the island counter.”

You giggled before walking towards the island and climbing up onto it. The cool surface of the granite top felt soothing against your heated skin. “Okay.” You sat down facing him.

Jeremiah stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your thighs. He spread them open and brought his hands up your skirt. He grabbed a hold of the hem of your panties and slid them down. You bucked your hips to help him slip them off easier.

When they were off, he placed his head between your legs and took a couple licks at your clit. As he sucked on it gently, you closed your eyes and moaned loudly. It felt so good you wished you could stay here forever.

Your fingers found themselves gripping onto his golden curls. You pressed him closer to you in a desperate manner. Your head tilted back to look at the hanging light above you. Your breath hitched when he suddenly slipped one of his large fingers inside of you.

You were so wet that his finger slid in with ease. You gripped onto the edges of the counter tightly as you bit your bottom lip, trying to stop yourself from moaning out loud. “That feels so good, Jeremiah. Please don’t stop.”

He curled his finger inside you. “I know it does.” he replied in between quick strokes. The sensation was intense. You moaned louder as he made slow, circular movements with the tip of his warm, wet tongue. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, unable to keep them open any longer.

You accidentally knocked the paper towel roller off the counter. “Mmmm! Oh god, Jeremiah.” You felt your breathing become heavier. Your heartbeat was rapid, your mind clouded with lust, and all of your emotions were overwhelming your senses as you reached your peak.

You screamed his name out as you came undone completely. “Jesus Christ.” You panted heavily, trying desperately to regain your breath and calm your erratic heart.

He grinned smugly after hearing you scream his name, he pulled his face away from between your legs. You gazed into his blue eyes and saw lust there, but there was a hint of something else. Pure admiration.

After catching your breath, he stood upright and removed his fingers from your pussy. You were in disbelief that you just had sex with Jeremiah Fisher. It felt like a lucid dream.

You pulled your panties back up and hopped off the counter. You were in desperate need for a shower, but you didn’t want to wash Jeremiah's touch off your body. “So uh… do I need to give you a tip for your extra services?” You asked with a giggle.

“No because that would be prostitution,” he tapped the tip of your nose with his clean finger before walking over to the sink and began washing his hands.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the dirty towel off the table. You began walking up the stairs. “I really enjoyed that.” You leaned over the railing.

Jeremiah smiled, “We should do that more often. Maybe we can try it on your bed next time.” You laughed as you continued running up the stairs.

[rsli33]

𝓐TLANTIS ✴︎ 𝓭R

“may you never forget me.” 𓍼ོ

SYNOPSIS . . . girl meets boy, girl falls for said boy . . .but wait . . . this time the girl falls in love with the bastard son of one of the Olympians gods. One whose blood brings nothing but chaos and destruction, will her love for him be enough to save both of them & their home from the loop?

[ note . . . this is shifting content, this dr is one of my original dr’s I made, I took inspiration from the lost city of Atlantis which is an island civilization that, according to Plato, was submerged into the sea by the gods. after lots of worldbuilding, and a little tweaking here and there I ended up with this dr. it is loosely based on my pjo dr as well, and I mean loosely. i hope you like this dr as much as I do.]

BACKSTORY . . . Sophia of Atlantis, daughter of Stavros of Atlantis. Life as the daughter of Atlantis cursed seer, was never easy. Watching as her father slipped into madness for not being able to speak his prophecies. She could never hate her father, he is a good father, and he provided her with nothing but love. So what did she do when her father was deemed too old to work? She sought out for a way to make coin. In the main city, not far from where she lived, where she found work, as an assistant to a man who has knowledge of... plants?

She wasn't one to judge, she needed coin. So if working for Matthaios, a plant speaker in her opinion, would get her coin she would do whatever he asked for. . . even if it meant diving into the moon pools to get him some slimy green plant.

𝕿𝘏𝘌 𝕾𝘈𝘕𝘌 𝕿𝗛𝗘 𝕷𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗫

❝You speak to trees.❞

❝I do not speak to trees, I listen to them.❞

❝Right. . . and I listen to fish talk.❞

INTERTWINED SOULS . . . In all of Sophia’s life only one person that has been consistent other than her father, Charilaos is his name. A boy her age, one that, unlike her, lives on the streets just outside Matthaios little tent, in the outer edge of the agora’s. Yes, she was always warned to never associate with the beggars of the silk streets. . . oh gods, she just couldn’t help herself. So everyday for two years Sophia would put out a basket of the food sold in the agora, just enought for five people, and watched, a creep Matthaios would call her, as Charilaos and his family ate. And slowly but surely, the two grew close, very close, often Sophia would sneak Charilaos into the ceremonial festivals. And what was once compassions turned into love. One that was shared in both sides. So why does Charilaos keep pushing her away? And why does it feel so familiar?

𝕿𝘏𝘌 𝕳𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘌𝘙 𝕿𝙃𝙀 𝕭𝘼𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘿

❝Let go! I will be your end!❞

❝I will continue if it means loving you.❞

THE LOOP . . . Fifty times, that’s how many times Charilaos has tried to change your fate. Fifty times of watching the woman he loves scarifies herself for him. Fifty times, of falling deeply in love with her. Fifty times of watching her fall in with him. Fifty times of different roads leading to the same fate. Twenty-five times of rejecting her. Twenty-five of watching her from afar. Twenty-five years of solitude. Twenty-five years of anger. Charilaos was sure the gods hated him, they had to. Because why must he be the one to remember every fail. Why does it seem like he can’t stop it, cant forget. His own father, his blood, cursing him for falling in love with her. Forced to be stuck in the cruel loop, only he can remember. Forced to push his love away, forced to see Sophia crumble like dust in his own hands.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘❙❙❚❙❘❙❘❙❚❙❘❙❙❚❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ © RSLI33

[yuyuwritesss]

ZombieApocalypseAU!GhostxReader (I've watching TWD a bit too much)

Ghost, living alone in a deep part of the woods, has been noticing pieces of his game cut off after he strings them up to bleed. Small chunks from the thigh, bits where the legs meet the chest. The cuts are too precise, too calculated to be the work of a smaller animal, although whoever is doing this might have learned a thing or two from a fox. Curious to see who’s been shadowing him this deep into the woods, escaping his notice and stealing small morsels of his catches—barely enough to get by—he sets up a trap.

He pretends to go to sleep, zipping his tent shut, ears alert for the slightest movement outside. A small, barely audible yelp sets him in motion. He’s outside in a second, flashlight in hand, lighting up the body hanging by the ankle. You’re trying very hard to free yourself when his light blinds you. You don’t give up, but your malnourished body and weakened core can barely hold you up to cut the rope at your ankles. Ghost watches you struggle, amused that you still think you can escape. He moves closer; you swipe your knife at him, but he anticipates it and knocks it out of your hand.

You finally realize he’s caught you, and nothing can stop him from doing whatever he wants to you. He’s a big man, well-fed to sustain himself, while you’ve been stealing scraps, small enough to hope he wouldn’t notice, barely enough to keep you from fainting from hunger. From your hiding spot in the trees, you’ve seen him fight coyotes and eat them for dinner; you wouldn’t stand a chance against him now. You never did, even with your knife, but your survival instinct fed you delusions, just like when it convinced you to steal from him in the first place.

You close your eyes, expecting him to skin you like his game, and realizing there’s a lot worse he can do to you, you start hoping to plant that idea in his head to keep him from going down another road. Suddenly, you’re cut down from the rope, and you instinctively brace yourself for a fall that never comes. He holds you up by the ankle like some kind of runt, before gently setting you on the ground. You stay close to the ground, scared out of your mind but still hoping that if you stay still, it’ll soon be over and you can somehow find a way out.

He picks you up by the back of your beat-up shirt and puts you inside the tent before zipping it shut, locking you in while he stays outside. You stay still, hearing him move about, before starting to look around the tent for anything sharp enough to cut a way out on the opposite side of where he is and quietly slip out. You don’t get to put that plan into action before he reopens the tent and brings you out by the forearm without any resistance from you. The fire is lit, and there’s a huge slab of meat cooking over it. He sits you and himself down around the fire, staring at you while you stare ahead, confused and afraid of what could come.

You both sit in silence as he turns the meat over a few times before setting it in front of you. You look at it before looking him in the eye for what must be the first time ever; they’re brown, you note to yourself, and almost kind. The confusion must show on your face as he pushes the meat closer to you and says,

“It can't be enough, what you’re taking. Eat first, then we’ll talk.”

[the-mid-night-witch]

Open RP:

I'm tagging everyone that was tagged in Dani's original post. If u don't wanna interact u don't have to, but this is the place to confront Nyx if you want to.

───── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────

───── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────

(i made the edit. yes ik dani isnt dead but it just fits the song)

───── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────

───── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────

You finally arrived at the small cabin in the woods. Snow fell around you and crunched beneath your feet, the wind ice cold against your face like a thousand knives. Inside lived the witch Dani had always talked about. Her mentor, her teacher. Though now Dani was in a coma, brain dead and in hospital, all signs pointed to the inhabitant of the cabin as the culprit. The moon burned into Dani's wrist was Nyx's symbol. Though she denied being at fault

The walls of the small wooden building were deep brown, the fenced gate decorated with the skulls and bones of small animals and birds. Any footsteps that may have indicated someone was home had been covered by the snow, and the shutters were closed to block any light coming from the inside. The place was deathly silent, even the rushing wind seemed dulled in volume. There was something very old and very powerful here, even the forest seemed to be trying to escape it, the dead, gnarled trees that lined the small dirt path to the house were bent away from it, as if trying to escape. No animals could be seen for miles, and all the plants were dead or dying.

The door had a small knocker shaped like a bird skull. Below it, carved into the old oak door were the words: 'An' ye harm none, do what ye will' You could enter politely, or forcefully. The choice was up to you. But this was the woman who harmed Dani, who had put her in a possibly fatal coma. The small, inconspicuous cabin was practically inviting you in. You knew she was powerful, dangerous, almost immortal. The few people that had come back from this part of the forest talked about how she was 'unkillable' What do you do?

───── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────

@mutantontheloose @justawhitewolf @they-call-me-birdsong @they-call-me-ricochet @poor-lost-leo @just-a-fucking-civilian

@hydras-tiny-dancer @agent-solenski @moongirlwidow @your-fav-russian-assassin @elia-theassassin

@thecrazyrplayerosie @the-other-lehnsherr-girl @thebetterbartontwin @clintbarton-thearrowguy @the-real-best-archer

@americas-favourite-fossil @that-punk-from-brooklyn @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @we-love-redwing @captain-s-falcon

@serenastark-official @wandamaximoff-official @little-witchy-wanda @whosafraidoflittleoldme17 @lincoln-campbell-the-inhuman @the-good-redheaded-witch @thebestmerc-1

[thoughtfulchaos773]

The Art of a Slowburn

Besides the commonality of Jon Bernthal playing a partner/brother, there's also the art of the slow burn happening in Twd and the Bear- and yes, I know, different writers can't quite compare. But the art of foreshadowing is always the same. If you didn't see the show spoilers ahead I'll provide a recap if you don't care to watch Twd.

Here's the gist of the show: Rick wakes up from a coma and finds his wife and son. He is fighting off the end of the world and zombies and reunites with his family along the way- his wife dies during childbirth, and literally 3 episodes later, amid Rick's grieving, Michonne arrives.

The matching! They're showing and hinting at the audience early on; these two are a great match.

More matching:

Was it the stares, I wondered? It's something richonners loved to analyze while the burn was slow. Particulary, Rick stares at Michonne like Carmy. They focus on this so you can get a feel of the main character's reaction to their love interest. For me, it's the preceding scenes that hinted at Richonne, and I'll compare them with Sydcarmy in a second:

But check out his flirting- there was much gaslighting on the ship. People said we were overthinking; they were just friends, and she was like a brother to Rick and a partner he lost in Shane. But Michonne fulfilled both for RIck- she was a partner and wife. Just as Sydney is a partner to Carmy.

Now let's talk about the dialogue and preceding scenes. In season 4, the prison is calm- domesticated. Rick is taking a break from the violence and is almost making peace with his wife's death. At this point, we don't know about Michonne's history, but Hershel- Rick's advisor- says this before Michonne arrives from being on the road.

(Things break, but they can still grow- a new plant, a new family tree. They hint at the Grimes 2.0 family after Lori's death. Right after Hershel says this- Michonne arrives.)

Plants? Family tree? Things growing you say?

Sydcarmy's preceding scenes hint at a ship:

Also, can I mention the tension? Here’s the thing: Rick treated Michonne differently than the rest of his found family. Just like Carmy. He listened to Michonne's advice early on—what Michonne wants goes. Sound familiar?

Even amid Michonne Challenging him as Sydney challenges Carmy- you can feel the closeness- the partnership and trust growing between them.

Jessie/ Claire, a blast from the past.

In TWD, Jessie represents Lori (Rick's dead wife) before Richonne happens. We got the Jessie storyline- a big session of major gaslighting here; some WD fans figured Jessie would replace Andrea, Rick's love/partner in the comics. But it didn't make any sense to us- they built all this tension and closeness between Rick and Michonne, and suddenly, Jessie happens?

Then they point to the signs visually- such as Jessie wearing a plaid shirt, the same style his wife Lori wore when he last saw her alive.

Lori's ghost:

Jessie & Claire, and nothing thereafter.

Rick doesn't sleep with Jessie, but after their kiss the night before, Jessie touches Rick's face, and he feels nothing for her- even after he stares at his wedding ring. When Richonne becomes Cannon in the very next episode, the first shot we see is Rick's wedding ring on the dresser- showing us he's past his grief and is in a new place to be with Michonne, his soulmate.

Comparing to Carmy and Claire. After he declares Claire his girlfriend they sleep together he feels nothing because dating her was all about getting past his grief with Mikey.

In this same episode, they do more proceeding scenes hinting at Richonne happening. When Deanna, the town leader, asks Michonne to look into what she wants after they get through the herd. They cut to scenes of Michonne caring for Carl- Rick's son.

But all this foreshadowing- I should get into the cinematography parallels that honored Lori's role and show Michonne fulfilling the matriarch of the family just as Sydney honors Mikey. But this is enough for now. Maybe a part 2 I got plenty more comparisons.

The same will happen with Carmy and Sydney- the show gives us clear obstacles that stop Sydney and Carmy from slowing down, taking a look, and realizing their feelings for each other. For carmy to get to that place, he has to get past his grief.

I think, if anything, if this is the last season and they don't end with a kiss, Storer is hinting at it. Like the bear, the pairing was planned from the beginning and you. Tell by the foreshadowing and if people really watched, they could see the signs.

One last thing, this was a comment once richonne became cannon and it's so similar to sydcarmy. Tells you all about how misdirection in slow burns work with most audience. When a ship becomes cannon some say wow! I didn't see that comingʻ where there's been hints from the start..when it's planned.

I saw their relationship develop in a platonic kind of way, and it was a complete surprise for me when they got together. Now, looking back, I'm so embarrassed because it was so obvious all along.

Be safe, and Happy Holidays, Folks!