#thanks for this ask I needed the excuse to give these thoughts

[leviathansmistress]

A Little Help

Mom's Girlfriend!Natasha Romanoff x Innocent Daughter!Female Reader

Tags/warnings: +18 AMAB Natasha, top!Nat, bottom!r, blowjob, handjob, cum swallowing (r), petnames, cheating (r has no idea about the extent of the actions she did)

In which you started helping the girlfriend of your mother.

࣪𓏲ּ  ♰  ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

"Baby, mom's gonna be on a business trip for two weeks. Don't worry, Dada will be there for you. Help her with what she needs, okay baby? And help her with what needs to be done at home, don't give her a hard time. I love you, moonpie."

That's what your mom told you, it was actually a voice message she left you when she tried to call you from the airport since you were sleeping when she left. You typed something telling her to take care and go shopping for you, then, you fixed your bed and changed your sleeping clothes to go downstairs where the live-in girlfriend of your mom has been waiting.

"Hi Da." It was a nickname your mom made to call Natasha and you have been used to calling her the same. Daddy your mom always teases her, then it turns to something more domestically sweet—Dada.

"Hi, princess. I already had my breakfast. But I prepared yours."

"Thank you," you tiptoed your way to your dining seat and started eating the food Natasha made you.

Natasha excused herself in the bathroom, there's something she cannot handle lately every time you were around. Wearing thin tops, painfully short shorts that are barely covering your ass and stretch marks on your upper thighs that she found cute and hot.

She let out a shaky breath before slipping her hand on her boxers, pulling her length and started rubbing it. It was so wrong to have such perverted thoughts on the daughter of the woman she has a relationship with but she can't help it now, besides, your mother isn't there to help her with what she needs, she actually barely helped her.

"F-fuck…" Natasha was sweating in guilt as she continued to rub her cock.

You placed your plates in the sink, ready to clean them together with the dishes that were left. But you heard some sounds in the bathroom where Natasha excused herself, it was a loud breathing, a shaky one. When you tried to take a peek, you saw half of her body, her right hand working on something between her legs.

You can hear her loud and clear now, she sounded in pain.

"Help her with what she needs, okay baby?"

"Natty?" You called, you didn't entirely step inside the bathroom not wanting to invade her space. Natasha jolted, pulling the shower curtains so whatever she's doing will be hidden—you already, innocently invaded her space and you already saw what she was doing.

"Honey, wh-what are you doing here? Are you done eating?" Natasha asked in a hurry, her mind making up excuses in case you ask what she was doing.

"Y-yeah…" you muttered, "are you okay? You sounded in pain."

"What? N-no, sweetheart. I am fine alright?" Natasha's hand never left the curtain, pushing it towards the wall, her cock still springing out but long forgotten.

"Can I help you out?"

God, the way she wanted your hands and mouth to ease her pain right now. Natasha cursed herself, this is so wrong. Before she could even tell you to go wash the dishes you were already pushing the other end of the curtains.

"F-fu—please go, Y/N." She did not look at you but you walked to her side.

"Where do you need help?" You innocently asked. "Is it hurting?" You pointed at her length, taking note of the liquid that is coming out on the tip of it.

"Please…" She mumbled, she could feel her heart jumping inside her ribs.

"How do I do it?" You innocently asked as you slowly kneel in front of her. Your small hand took a hold of her cock, slowly stroking it. You giggled when you felt it slightly twitch on your hand.

Your innocence is already making Natasha damn hard, but you actually touching her would definitely make her cum anytime soon. You watched with your mouth agape as you stroke Natasha's cock with your right hand, her moans and the slick sounds of her wet cock was filling the bathroom. You didn't know if you were doing it right but Natasha continuously saying "Just like that" reassures you that you are helping her just right.

"You're so good baby…yes."

You watched the tip of it taunting you to suck it, that's what your intrusive thoughts were telling you as well and it won. Natasha let out a loud moan when she felt something wet and soft swirling on the tip of her cock when she looked down at you, your mouth is already trying to swallow her entire length.

"Fu-fuck, baby." She groaned. "Gonna cum!" Her hand instinctively went grab a handful of your hair. She cannot fight it anymore, she pulled your head towards her, her cock pushing up to the back of your throat, your nose touching her pubic region.

You felt a warm liquid travel straight to the stretch of your throat. Then, you let out a gagging sound as she pushed you away from her cock. Your saliva and her cum connecting her cock to your tongue. She stepped forward and jerked herself and spurted her white cum on your face.

You gasped about how good and hot it felt on your skin. You adjusted your kneeling self, something uncomfortable started to knot in between your legs but it doesn't matter, your Dada needs more than you. Your face was coated with her hot cum, you pushed the liquid to your mouth and sucked your fingers. You eagerly met her eyes with an innocent smile as you wasted none of her cum, tasting and eating it all—that cracked something inside Natasha. A twisted, dark, hidden side of her that she has been trying to bury since the day she met the daughter of her girlfriend.

"You can't tell mom about this, alright?"

Your brows creased in confusion and innocence, "Why?"

Natasha took a deep breath, she knew she had to explain it to you without wanting to freak you out. You're now in college, a strict Catholic college. You grew up in a very strict household with your father, but when he died you finally got to live with your mother. You had requested to be enrolled in the same school you grew up studying in even though your mother wanted you to have a different environment since she noticed that you had adapted the traditionality of your father's family which your mom hated the most. Resulting for you to be so frail, innocent and naive.

"Because…mom can only help me like this." She said softly. "And she would be very mad if she knew you've been helping Dada like this. Do you want mom to be mad at you?"

"No. I don't want mom to be mad at me." You said in almost a whisper, your eyes started to sting.

"Oh hush bunny, don't cry. Just don't tell her about this alright? Mom knows how good you have been to me and that's already enough." Her reassurance and the soft kiss she planted on your forehead started to soothe you. You nodded eagerly, biting your inner lip to suppress your tears.

All you want is nothing but to help your Dada.

[lucysarah-c]

I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

[npookie0]

Hiii, could we perhaps have some hcs for roning x artist!mc, so like their side hustle is drawing and stuffs and what he thinks of it? (and/or asks of them to maybe create something for him ^_^?)

Thank you for your time and stay hydrated <3

Sinner's Portrait.

Ronin x artist reader, headcanos, sweet and simple

Enjoy lovelies 🫶

Ronin was very interested in your artistry from the day he found out about it, he has a thing for creators after all. "You're a god on your own darling, a god who creates their own little worlds."

He is attentive to you whenever you show him your drawings or paintings, he asks about details and meanings behind every stroke of your brush.

When you paint he will stand behind you with his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder while he watches your feelings and desires fill the blank canvas with colours and shapes

If there's a competition going around or if you're commissioned to make a big piece, Ronin will be there to keep you taking care of yourself, making sure you eat, drink and sleep. "As tragic as that would be, I can't have my lil artists pass out with their creation never finished."

Sometimes you doodle Ronin in your sketchbook or on your canvas before you cover them with paint, he finds it adorable how secretive you're trying to be with it.

You, obviously, give him paintings for his birthday, or Christmas, or any different occasion to give him anything - sometimes you don't even need an occasion, you just want to give him something. It makes him really happy, even if he's cocky about it and will always play his little nonchalant attitude with you. Your painting will now hang on his wall and he will brag about it to Angel, maybe be a little softie about them.

If you're in artblock, Ronin will offer himself as a model for you. "What? I kill people when I can't bring out any creative murder ideas, you can use a model when you can't get those creative thoughts to guide your brush."

Ronin doesn't ask you to paint him anything, at least not without making up an excuse for it. "Oh darlin', don'tcha want your lil creation to find their place in my home?" You know that he just wants to get a lil painting just dedicated to himself and you happily oblige, why wouldn't you make your edgelord of a boyfriend happy?

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey, I normally agree with and support everything you say, but I think veering into "some trans women need to unlearn male socialization" is not it. It's zero percent toxic masculinity, just the same misogyny people of all genders and AGABs have ingrained into them. I don't really see how the behavior of transandrophobic trans women is much different than a lot of cis women. It is really, really not helping.

Again, I think you're cool. I love what you do and say here. But that post was rough and I tell you that out of sincere care.

hey thanks for this ask! i appreciate the criticism!

even if you like me, you do NOT have to blindly agree with every thing i say! please don't EVER feel obligated to agree with something i said that you didn't like just because you like me and what i have to say most of the time. you can like a person and agree with most of what they have to say, but it's very good to not want to just agree with something you think is wrong just because you like a person. nobody should have to do that. nobody should have to say well i like you but i don't like this thing that you said so i guess i'll let it slide. i don't want anyone to ever feel obligated to just let dangerous thinking slide because they like me and agree with me in general.

criticism is important because everyone is learning. everyone has the chance to have a bad take or a bad thought. everyone runs the risk of having ideas or thoughts that are not on the right track. that includes me- i'm definitely not perfect and i don't want people to think i "always" have the right take, because that's just not possible for a person. i have to learn, too. i have to have my mistakes pointed out, too- and when people do that, i appreciate it!

i, too, have bad perspective on things at times, and i don't mind it at all when someone points out that they do not think what i was saying was it. i really appreciate when people do give criticism because i really do not want to be seen as this perfect person who always has everything figured out. i'm capable of having bad takes as well and that's not to excuse it, rather, it's a chance for people to point something out and correct my line of thinking, which is something i'm never going to be bothered by

as much as i am here to spread the knowledge that i have, i'm also here to listen to what other people are saying as well. i do not feel like i'm a definitive source on every single queer topic, as there are perspectives i am not familiar with, and i'm learning every day. which is a good thing, i want people to reach out and say hey, here's how this line of thinking can be dangerous, because i take that seriously. i don't want people to think that i think that i know everything because i don't. and i'm always striving to improve. just like you, i also screw up sometimes, and i don't want anyone to think that i don't want to acknowledge that.

learning from mistakes is how we grow, and i appreciate it so much when people point out that i've made a mistake! i do not want to stay rooted in the same behavior forever if it's genuinely toxic and even dangerous. there's no reason for me to hang on to something if it's hurting someone else.

i have things to learn, too, and i appreciate it when people say hey. this isn't it. like. that's not gonna bother me. if i genuinely have a bad take, i want to be told! if i need to re-think a talking point, i want to be told! there's nothing wrong or bad about that at all. i'm not up my own ass, i do not believe that i never make mistakes. thanks for letting me know, i genuinely appreciate that! i, just like anyone else, can have a bad take or questionable logic, and it's important for folks to take the time to let me know so i can re-think things!

thanks to everyone who has provided constructive criticism! i take that very seriously :) take care of yourself, have a great day!

[simpforchuchu]

My Enemy’s Sister | Mitsuya Takashi x Haitani!reader - part3

a/n: Hello, it’s been a long time since I wrote for Tokyo Revengers. I’m watching season 2 again and wanted to write something for my dear Mitsuya… Anyway, I hope you like it 🌸💕

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my native language.

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: fights, violence

part1 part2 

“Where are you going, y/n?”

The young girl was about to leave the door when she was startled by her younger brother’s voice. Everyone in the house had been acting strangely since that night. She knew they wanted to protect her, but it was strange that they quickly dismissed her whenever she tried to ask them about Toman and Mitsuya.

That’s why she was going to go to Toman’s meeting place, which she had learned by giving money to a few people. She wanted to thank Mitsuya herself.

“I need to buy some materials for my project. By the way, can you give me some money?”

She didn’t need money. She had enough in her pocket. But the young girl didn’t forget to ask her brother for the materials so that he wouldn’t get suspicious. Rindou gave up his suspicious gaze and nodded. He handed her more money than she needed from his pocket and closed the front of the young girl’s jacket with his usual cold gaze.

Y/n smiled at what he did and put the money in her pocket. Ran had been cold towards her for a few days. Rindou, on the other hand, felt like he was stuck between the two. “See you, onii-chan!”

The young girl waved to her brother with a big smile and left the house. 

It wouldn't take long to get from Roppongi to the temple where Toman was meeting. She quickly walked to the train station and started looking out the window after finding the right platform. ***

After walking a little from the train station to the temple, she realized she was in the right place when she saw the boys in black uniforms and motorbikes. She realized now that she shouldn't have come here alone, but it was too late. So she took a little step forward with timid steps and called out to one of the boys. 

"Excuse me, can I ask you something?" 

Both of the boys had blonde hair, but one of them looked panicked. 

"Are you... lost? You shouldn't be here." 

"Takemichi, don't be that rude!" The other blonde scolded him, then turned to the young girl. 

"But he's right... You shouldn't be here, miss. Do you know where this place is?" 

Y/n nodded her head nervously. The two in front of her didn't look like bad people, but she was still scared. At that moment, a tall person appeared behind her and Y/n understood this from the shadow on the ground. She turned around in fear and looked at the tall, blonde, braided boy behind her in fear.

“Huh? A girl? What are you doing here?”

 Draken was surprised. He also thought the young girl’s face was familiar.

When Y/n took a step back in fear, the tall boy tried to change his expression, realizing that he scared her.

“If you’re lost, one of the boys can take you home, you don’t have to be afraid. Toman would never hurt girls.”

Y/n didn’t know if she should tell him why. She didn’t know if they knew Mitsuya, but she didn’t want to leave here without finding Mitsuya.

“I’m… looking for Mitsuya-san. My name is Y/n… Y/n Haitani.”

After the young girl said her name, all three of their eyes widened. The young girl smiled nervously, thinking that they might know her older brothers too.

“I guess you know my older brothers too… I didn’t know they were so famous…”

Draken was surprised at first.

“Haitani? You-”

When he realized that Chifuyu was about to say something, he stopped him with his hand, thinking that the young girl really didn’t know anything. Or was she stupid enough to come here knowing that her brothers were the most wanted criminals and Toman’s enemies? 

Draken slowly turned to the young girl

“Y/n-chan.. May I know why you’re looking for Mitsuya?”

When Draken asked the young girl this question, the young girl’s cheeks unintentionally blushed. Why was she looking for him? What was she going to tell him? Yes, she didn’t know either. 

“I… well…”

She was here to give him his kerchief, right? But she didn’t know why it was so hard to say. 

Just then, Mitsuya noticed Draken and the other two. And the young girl he saw the other night. 

“Y/n-chan?”

Y/n turned to him in surprise when she heard the voice she heard the other night. Mitsuya was also looking at her in surprise. Draken looked at the two. After making sure that they knew each other from their looks, he decided to talk about it later and dragged the two away with him.

“Mitsuya-san. I apologize for coming without telling you. But I didn’t know how else to find you.”

Mitsuya looked at the young girl’s shy face and smiled.

“It’s okay, y/n-chan, but as you can see, it’s not very safe here. Please don’t come here alone again.”

When Y/n sadly nodded her head, Mitsuya spoke in a softer tone, afraid that he was being rude.

“Your brothers… were they angry with you?”

Y/n was surprised by the question. Mitsuya knew how angry the Haitanis could be. Toman and them had always been enemies. The Haitanis especially didn’t like Mitsuya at all. So when they saw Y/n with him, he was afraid that their anger would be reflected on her.“No… They weren’t angry. They seemed more worried. And…Ran doesn’t talk to me much nowadays.” Y/n smiled sadly. “Ran and Rindou are little delinquents, but they’ve always been really sweet to me. It’s just… I don’t know what happened between you two, but they don’t really want me to talk to you.”

Mitsuya wasn’t surprised.

“Although, your friends don’t seem to like my brothers very much either.”

Mitsuya chuckled at Y/n’s smiling words. He could guess their faces when she said her last name. Besides, Y/n looked a lot like her brothers. Anyone could guess that.

“We had a fight with your brothers, so we never got along.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her how dangerous her brothers were. Y/n thought they were just little hooligans.

“I see…” the girl nodded. “By the way-“ Y/n took out Mitsuya’s kerchief from her pocket. She also took out a new one too and smiled. “I couldn’t get the blood stain out, no matter how much I washed it. That's why I bought a new one for you." 

Mitsuya laughed and took the kerchiefs from the young girl's hand. He put them in his uniform pocket and looked into Y/n's eyes. 

"Thank you, Y/n-chan. I hope I don't have to use them again." 

Y/n laughed and nodded. 

"I hope so, Mitsuya-san. Again, I apologize for my older brothers' rude attitude. They-" 

Mitsuya smiled 

"I can understand them, Y/n. I have two little sisters too, I know what it means to be an older brother." Y/n smiled. Mitsuya was a good person, if his older brothers knew him better, they would definitely love him. 

"Thank you. I... I should probably go now." 

Mitsuya nodded when he saw Toman slowly starting to gathering. He took out his phone and quickly texted Mikey. 

"At least let me drop you off at the train station, Y/n-chan. It's getting dark." 

Y/n stared at the boy smiling at her in surprise for a while. Could someone really smile that beautifully?

[vandal-flower]

For the Love of Norse!

Odin x Reader.

Requested.

Plot: You have feelings for the Chief god Odin for eons. When will you confess to him, who knows? Maybe at the Grand Party to celebrate Zeus' reign over the Heavens?

Warnings: It's Odin. I don't know how ya'll can like him...but we listen, we don't judge. Minor Angst.

Since the beginning of time, you had a crush on the Chief god, Odin.

You've known him better than anyone, better than anything. But despite that, you got flustered at the meer presence of him. Not that you could be blamed for such reaction, after all he is deemed to be quite handsome among a few goddesses. And his voice gives him an extra bonus to his character.

You had thoughts of finally confessing to him, to show him how you love him dearly. However, the fear of rejection fills you every time. What if he ignores you for the rest of your life? What if his ravens mock you for years to come?

The 'what if's' are the only thing in your mind, and in the end you just remain quiet.

You're thankful that no one knows you have feelings for Odin. Had anyone ever knew such fact, you would've of been a laughing stock. It's a fate worse than death itself.

Should that ever happen...

You might consider taking that job offer Hades gave you in the Underworld. Or ask Thor to strike you with his hammer.

The Zeus and Hera's anniversary was coming up, and most of the Pantheons were putting up decorations and making preparations as requested from Zeus himself.

You were in charge of ensuring that everything was just right. This meant you were running around 24/7. When you were busy looking over the decorations, someone approached you.

"May I ask what you may be doing, (Name)?", they asked. You didn't turn around to look at who was asking you, but instead focused on your work. In short, you simply brushed them off.

If there was something you wished you could change about yourself, it would be to stop prioritizing your work over actual issues. As you look at the god asking you, you go silent. It's Odin. The god you've had a crush on for years...

Without thinking, you take a few steps back before running away from him. His ravens call onto you, loudly scolding you for your lack of respect, but he silences them.

He's noticed that you've been acting strange for many years. At first it didn't bother him, but he's becoming worried, something he won't admit. He asked his fellow Chief gods on how to approach the situation, but barely got answers. Well, answers that weren't up to his standard.

He knows he's unapproachable, but he's never scared you before. He's known you for... a long time now.

He has to find out what wrong with you. Preferably without his ravens, before they chase you away.

You've noticed how Odin has been eyeing you down lately. You wonder if you have offended him in any way. You look back at the encounter you had with him, and it makes you worry to your stomach.

Of course he would be offended! You, quite literally brushed him off when he asked you a question. Not only is this deemed inappropriate behaviour for a god, but to act like that before the Chief god, Odin himself!?

You're sure he's coming for your head.

As you sat near the fountain in the greenhouse, beside you was the eldest valkyrie Brunhilde. "I don't even know what you see in that old man. Other than being a Chief god, there is really not much going for him. As well as the lame excuse for ravens on his shoulders."

You jumped in shocked at her words. "You can't just say that Brun! Besides, you have never seen him in his glory days.", her face twists into confusion as she tries to imagine the Norse god as a young man. She'll never understand.

"You're just happy he doesn't need to use a cane like Zeus.", she chuckled at how loudly you gasped. Although she had a point, some truths ate not meant to said.

"Brunhilde! I came to you for advice, not to joke about my situation.", out of anyone in the Norse Pantheon, she was the only one who knew about your crush on Odin.

She shrugged off your scolding, rolling her eyes at your reactions. "Why don't you just tell him? If he accepts you'll be fine and live happily ever after-"

"And if he rejects me?"

She pauses for a moment, "Take up Hades' job offer. Simple as that." You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed at the possibility of being rejected, furthermore, his ravens will shout the latest news on how you confessed your feelings to Odin and how he rejected you.

"I'd rather have Thor end my life swiftly, Brun. I'm sure he'll do it with no questions asked.", you mumble quietly to yourself, unfortunately she heard you.

"You're only saying that because he respects you, and also you bailed him out the other day.", she recalled how Thor snuck out from his duties to meet his lover, you helped him not get caught and therefore, you have his gratitude.

You dig your hands into your head as an attempt to ignore what she is saying. It doesn't work. Brunhilde looks down at you, muttering to herself before taking your hands into hers.

"Why don't you just confess to him at the party Zeus is holding? I doubt he'll stop so low to make a mockery of you."

"What about the birds?"

"They'll be drowning themselves in food, besides if they do find out, we can always cook them and replace them with other birds. Like chickens."

"BRUNHILDE!"

"What? I'm just speaking the truth!"

The air felt stuffy. Every being you could imagine was here. From the gods to lower rank angels, many were here to celebrate Zeus and Hera's wedding anniversary. If there is anything you noticed about Zeus, it was that he was big on parties.

Everyone was here. Except Odin.

You've seen Loki lurking around somewhere to cause mischief, and Thor's iconic red hair above the crowd, hammer in hand just in case someone wants to fight him. Not like anyone would ever.

All the valkyries were here, every deity of the Norse Pantheon was present, all but their Chief god. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn't able to attend, because he was so disgusted with your behaviour prior?

"The food here is quite tasteless if you ask me!"

"You're just saying that because all you is the same old food back at the palace!"

Oh, he is here.

The noise of Huggin and Munnin caught your attention, and there was Odin, seated next to his fellow peers at a table. He had not said a word to either of them, but was noticeably invested in the conversation. And then he took a look at you.

Quietly, you slipped away in the crowd, before walking to the hallway. Brunhilde's words of encouragement left your mind as quickly as you left the room.

"Is there something wrong uncle? You seem more quiet than usual, did you forget something important?", Loki flew to his side, his feigned concern.

Sighing to himself, the chief god stood from his seat and walked away, leaving his two winged companions behind with the other gods. "Nothing you should you concern yourself about."

The guests at the table threw a surprised look at him as he walked away.

"I just have business to take care of."

Walking through the hallway, your footsteps echo as you recall what had happened. You are an idiot. It's official.

With how you have been acting these past days, you've made a fool of yourself not once, but twice. Sure, there could have been worse, but this is the worst you have ever felt in years. Embarrassing moments are nothing compared to how you felt now.

If only you sink into the ground...

That job offer from Hades, or being slammed into the ground by Thor...

"(Name)."

You knew that voice from anywhere, it was Odin. You turn around only to take notice that he wore something different than his usual clothes. It was a suit, it fitted him quite well if you had to be honest. His hair was also different, was tied up in a ponytail. He looked even more handsome than before.

"Oh, All-father. Good evening to you, I see that you are faring well.", you put on a professional façade to try convince him and yourself that everything was alright.

"You've been acting strange for some time now. Explain.", he stared you down, not out of intimidation, it was just how he looked. "It's nothing you should concern yourself. Please, you don't have to worry about me."

Time stood still, cold air brushed past you and the light from outside shone onto the both of you. "You are a terrible liar, you know this better than anyone else."

He took a few steps closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you. "Tell me."

You briefly recall Brunhilde's words,'Why don't you just tell him?'

His eye widens slightly, as the following words leave your mouth.

"I love you."

He doesn't stop you, he continues to look at you.

"Ever since the beginning of time I loved you! I feared that you would rejected me, or worse, tarnish my name through out all the Heavens. I don't know why I thought avoiding you would make things easier, but..."

You took a moment to breathe, tears nearly spill from your eyes as you try to collect yourself. "But in the end, I ended up embarrassing myself in front of you...Pathetic isn't it?"

Without saying a word, he wipes your tears with his thumbs. He takes a moment to look at you closer as his thumbs rest on the sides of your face.

You really are beautiful. He enjoys your company more than anyone else, and you've known him for quite a long time. You've always carried yourself in high regard, a trait that many either admire, envy or loathe. But, to see you like this...

Something in him hurts. Calling yourself 'pathetic', feelings of anger begins to grow within him. You look away as an attempt to save face, as if it wasn't already too late.

"You're foolish enough to think that I'd reject you. To your credit, I've been worried about you, and wondered if you hated my presence.", he gently rubs his thumb on your cheeks.

"And yet, you were worried about if I would reject your confessions. (Name), you never cease to surprise me."

Your eyes returned to look at his face. He presented you his best smile, one you have only seen in combat, but the same one that perfectly portrayed how pleased he was. He was smiling, at you.

"So, if I may ask, do you accept my love for you?", your voice cracked as the words left your mouth.

"Hmm. I'd be fool if I had not accept the adoration from a being like yourself. I'm truly honored to receive such love.", he took your hand, and placed a kiss on the tips of your fingers, his eyes never leaving you. You were going to faint.

"As compensation, I would like to offer the same amount of love you have held for me, right back to you. Would you allow me to do the honor?"

You frantically nodded your head, a silent "yes" escaped your lips.

You were going to love this man more than you did before. And what is even better, is the fact he will love you just as much.

Unbeknownst to the newly couple, Brunhilde, Loki, and Thor, observed the scene behind a door.

"Oh~, it seems uncle finally got what he wanted, took him long enough.", a smile etched on Loki's face, catching stares from the thunder god and valkyrie.

Thor took a deep sigh, and Brunhilde rolled her eyes. "For the love of Norse."

Sorry if Odin is a bit ooc. I had this molding for quite a while now.

[officialgleamstar]

Do you ever think about how sad it must be to go from a normal(ish) life to then the chaos of faerune and not know when you get there because now you've always been there.

But at the same time, wasn't always there?

Anyways Jodie thoughts tonight

Good distraction from the latest episode.

Dragging a ramble out from my drafts to respond to this because we really are on a wavelength

Do you ever think how sad it must be to wake up one day and have all of your friends suddenly not know you, even outright dislike you? Sure, Jodie implies that he never got along with Glenn in his timeline, but he seems genuinely stunned when Darryl, Henry and Ron are rude to him. It’s easy for us to overlook that fact, but these were people he had been traveling with for months. “Oh but it’s Jodie he’s so annoying-!” they’re all annoying! They’re also all FRIENDS still, even when they piss each other off. They fought together and played together and saved their kids together. They were his friends, his temporary family the same way the S1 dads were with each other before then, and then one day they just came back and didn’t know him anymore.

And Jodie can’t even go home afterwards. He can’t go back to his human life with his human friends because he isn’t human, his whole life has been a lie, the only friends who would get it aren’t his friends anymore. He has his son, sure, and he has Morgan, but that’s only two family members. One of which he gets divorced from! Isn’t that terribly lonely? Isn’t that heart-breaking? Isn’t it enough to make you lose it?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

just here to say that I loveee the way you have doodled jin ling. squeaky toy golden boy. the most nephew to ever nephew. thank you for delightful comics, that's all, mwah

I simply think the Jin DNA is full of lil guy potential; like sugar ants on a peony B*)

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Hey so I've been *eating up* your TDP au and I looove everything you've made for it!! (The fact that I've finished season 6 yesterday is not helping aaaaa)

May I ask if Valka joins the party? Is she around?

AAAAAAA thank you thank you! Im so glad you enjoy it! It is my current brainrot and i have so many ThoughtsTM about it

And Valka is around......somewhere...... in Xadia.......

When she still lived in Berk she believed that peace was possible with the elves and dragons and did everything she could to convince anyone that they were not bloodthirsty monsters they had to fight. But of course no one believed her.

And so when she got taken by a dragon, after defending it and saving it's life during a raid, she figured that maybe Berk was hopeless and decided to stay in Xadia. (is this a flawed decision?? oh 100%. This action will have consequences in the future ;D)

And now 18 years later, she lives in the Uncharted Forest, helping and healing injured creatures and dragons and giving them a safe haven to reside in. She doesn't get many visitors, mainly because of the boundary spells that are set around her home, but she does get visits from her Sunfire elf friend who drops by from time to time to fill her in on things and ask for her help.

Recently though he's been trying to figure out what's been causing a corruption in the creatures of the region, and asked for her to keep an eye out for anything strange. Aside from that, the only other news Sandy has to share is that there's been a Sunfire elf terrorizing Berk. How strange. :)

[ask-artsy-oncie]

i would like to hear what Kit Cloudkicker's birthname was, with ur evidence

This is entirely me, overanalyzing what was, in fact, just Jymn Magon reusing a name that didn't get used for a character from an earlier project. Like I don't think a lot of thought went into his first name as opposed to his last name explicitly being something he made up, but I just Have Some Thoughts. And my evidence is mainly just analysis of the character, namely the way he's characterized in the pilot.

I think Kit is a rare case of having what is usually a nickname as a given name.

And this is because Kit is demonstrably a character who, literally from the moment we meet him, does not like being considered a child. This is not something he grows to hate, it's something he consistently showcases throughout the series and only really eases up on later.

So why, if he had every option to choose to nickname himself had he known his full name, would he go with the nickname that sounds exactly like the word "kid" when he could easily just insist people call him "Chris"? It just doesn't make sense to me, like I constantly hear Baloo say "kid" when the subtitles say it's meant to be "Kit", I thought he was calling him a pet name.

I also looked up the popularity of the nickname "Chris" versus "Kit" in the 1920's and 1930's (the decade Kit was born in and the decade Talespin takes place in) and, while "Kit" definitely used to be more popular than it is now, during that time, "Chris" is still undoubtedly more popular throughout history. If he was left with the name "Christopher", given what we know about how stubborn, immature, and independent Kit was when he met Baloo, I just don't think that would be the nickname he would have given himself.

I also think Kit was abandoned. Although the 1920's are generally characterized with capitalistic idealism, there were still plenty of recessions and poverty, including in the US and especially in US territories, post WWI, which is canon to the Talespin universe. Birthrates declined and it was not uncommon for people to abandon kids they could not afford to take care of. I think Kit was given a name but abandoned, as if one or both of his parents cared enough to name him, but couldn't keep him. I don't think Kit was left with a last name, and it's possible he just went around without one until he made it up, himself.

And this is only taking the show into consideration regarding his character and the setting. I could go on about how the context of Long Flight Home supports him having been abandoned but that would make this post even longer and also wasn't what you originally asked about lol.

I just think, if given the choice, this character would have chosen to call himself something else. And I also think that, just because of how clear so many points of the show make it that Kit "secretly" (or, I guess, inwardly) wants to be a part of a family despite outwardly desiring to be independent and recognized as an equal among adults, that it does make sense that he'd hold on to the single, solitary thing he has from his birth parents. Like, something that proves he did used to have a family. (Also like, if he did chose both his first and last name it would be even weirder if he deliberately chose to go by "Kit", you feel me?)

I'd bolster all this with direct references to specific episodes and clips or gifs or whatever but I'm on my phone and that's something I'm way more comfortable doing on a computer. Also the edibles are kicking in.

[aubins]

she is rasping and literally crawling toward yuri with big wet eyes because the week has been very unkind to her and she's a little scraped up from getting caught in a wilderness trap but don't even worry about it. however! she reaches them and her fluffy head perks up.

"yuri! yuri, we weren't on the same island last week, and bernie didn't want to miss you just in case—" rustle, rustle. from her belongings, she fishes out a lilac-ribboned box. inside there is makeup, carefully curated and dorothea-certified of course, along with a flower accessory she'd made herself. its blossom is the color of their eyes, which she is doing her very best to meet now, thank you very much.

(in fact, she's trying so hard that it pinches her brow just slightly. eye contact will always be her worst enemy but god if she isn't pulling out all the stops to show her earnestness. they deserve that much and plenty more.)

"happy, uh, early birthday...!" the gift is ushered into their possession. then her arms flap at her sides, and she blurts: "please don't get eaten by alligators, okay?! wait, are there alligators on this island? w-well, don't get eaten by anything! please. um, yes." nod, nod. "i don't get this whole competition thing, but you're still bernie's dear friend. and bernie really, really wants to keep being friends by the time your next birthday comes, too."

a pause. then, lips curl into a silly, fond smile that bernadetta can't help but make. "a-and it doesn't have anything to do with this weird island, but, um... you make me happy. so i hope this makes you happy, too."

Yuri Leclerc does not celebrate their birthday.

Sometimes, there are exceptions. Like the treats and surprises of a certain red-haired girl or the odd greeting here and there from Abyssians who have known them for long enough to learn it. Yet no matter how routine these exceptions start to become, they will always be just that: exceptions. Because, for so long, the day they'd said was theirs never really was their birthday anyway. Because, a long time ago, the boy who was born on their actual birthday died on the streets of Adrestia.

“Bernadetta,” is their hummed greeting as their gaze flicks over her, pleased— well, always pleased, really, to see her, and even more so when she appears to be in relatively one piece— their usual smile curling at the corner of their lips. “That for me?” they ask, tone teasing as she fishes the box from her belongings. It's not even my birthday yet, is the follow up, already upon the tip of their tongue when—

“Happy, uh, early birthday...!”

And Yuri blinks, stunned for a moment, because no, they think, they will never quite get used to these exceptions. Even as Bernadetta shuffles the gift into their hands, babbling that they shouldn't get eaten by alligators, if there even are any— “No,” they think they hear themself say automatically, first instinct always to reassure, “I haven't seen any alligators. And I won't get eaten, so don't even worry about it.”— and that they're her dear friend— “...ah?” is the only sound they make in response to that one, a little quiet and a little confused, because there's no automatic answer to it, not one that they want to give to such a genuine effort anyway.

They glance at the box now in their hands for a beat, then pull it open gently, as if afraid it might break. “You didn't have to,” Yuri says, gaze immediately attracted to the collection of makeup within. They know, of course, what it costs, and suddenly mean it doubly so. “Must've cost you a pretty penny. You should've spent it on yourself.” And even if some people would say it just to be humble, humility has never been one of their features. They know what they do and do not deserve.

After all, Yuri is no stranger to gifts like these. Makeup and jewelry offered to them because only the finest of accessories should decorate the most beautiful dolls— and never for free, of course, because nothing in this world is ever for free, and they are quite used to trading both face and body.

They kept them all, no matter how they loathe them sometimes. They may be prideful, but they are not foolish. There is a trunk under the floorboards beneath their bed in Abyss filled with their hoard, bountiful enough to convince someone they are a magpie and not a mockingbird. Bountiful enough to remind them that, now, the Savage Mockingbird can take a noble's expensive gift and slit his throat while wearing it if they wanted, then toss it without a second thought to disappear within their collection.

But while Bernadetta is a noble, she is not like them. (But how do you know? asks a voice. Yuri silences it. They just do— they must believe that.) Not because of this island, she says next, and as much as Yuri can guess where her mind tends to spiral to, they wonder if she can do the same. Because they would have thought it next, yes, wondered about an objective handed to her in the interim that perhaps needed completing or some other game their hosts wanted to play. Even with the reassurance, they might have still wondered.

But maybe it is because it is Bernadetta, because she had known them before they were Yuri, and know all the secrets and vulnerabilities that come with that, because no matter how many times she says she has forgiven them, Yuri is used to bracing for betrayal, that the mockingbird pauses. Briefly, yet completely and utterly struck still mid-flight.

And then they believe her, even when the first instinct ingrained in them is not to.

“It...” they start, then pause. Correct themself. “You make me happy, Bernadetta. With or without the gift. But thanks for thinking about my birthday.” Because it's nice to be thought about, in the end. If it needs to be put simply for her, without the mess of their past, then it— and she— makes them happy. Bernadetta doesn't need to know the rest. Yuri grins, then plucks the flower accessory from the box to hold out to her. This one, they can think about without straining their smile. No shadow haunts it; this one is just Bernadetta. “Help me put it in my hair?”

Next birthday, we'll still be friends. But they do not say it aloud. This one is a promise all for themself. Yuri resolves not to break it.

[bruciemilf]

Scary boyfriend privilege? No. Scary sons privilege.

Bruce who can’t go anywhere without his newly adopted ward. He follows Bruce like a sunny shadow, grin always in place.

“Dick, can I hold your hand when we cross the street?”

Dick, very sweetly, “No.”

Bruce sighs, but accepts easily. Some guy scoffs at that and asks Bruce if he’ll let his kid just talk to him like that. His kid. His heart hurts in a very good way.

He’s about to say something, but Dick interrupts him, his teeth bared full, “Weren’t you on the news for hitting an old lady with your car?”

Bruce freezing. Dick goes back to his gameboy. They hold hands when they cross the street.

It’s both scary and comforting how little he changes when he’s an adult.

Jason, on the other hand.

Although he refuses to admit it, he does follow Bruce around, too, when his dad actually has to leave the manor. It’s when Alfred says he needs sun.

“You signed a contract, sir.”

Bruce sighing, “I signed it when I was 4. In black crayon. Those don’t count.”

Damian gasped, as if discovering a vile fact, sending an accusing glare Bruce’s way. “They don’t?”

Bruce needs an excuse to haul ass fast and that’s how Jason ends up chaperoning his socially awkward, disaster of a father in his quest to pick up food.

He’s a titanic presence next to Bruce, glaring off whoever stares a little too long or too appreciatively, strong arms crossed and his eyes hard and sharp.

Bruce gently taps his bicep and he hates the way he melts. “Do you want the chicken nuggets with or without apple slices?”

“Without.”

“Jay.”

“FINE.”

Give Jason his “he asked for No pickles” moment. It has to embarrass Bruce enough to jump in traffic, thought.

Damian has his own league and none of them can really compete with it. I think, during parent’s night, he drags Bruce off to proudly showcase his gallery of portraits.

Bruce is very moved when he realizes they’re almost all him.

There’s portraits of Dick, too, and Alfred, and a comically bad one of Tim. “Damian, they’re very beautiful. Thank you.”

“I painted them with the blood of your enemies.”

“…Thank you.”

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[lavenderspence]

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife? 

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy! 

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were. 

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years. 

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you. 

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester. 

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose. 

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it. 

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack. 

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it. 

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more. 

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again. 

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though. 

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.” 

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through. 

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow. 

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes. 

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath. 

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really. 

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop. 

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly. 

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.  

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes. 

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door. 

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad. 

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over. 

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work. 

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch. 

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours. 

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words. 

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there. 

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too. 

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise. 

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up. 

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe. 

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down. 

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?” 

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper. 

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved,  thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband. 

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment. 

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care. 

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would. 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[cmdrfupa]

Nanami sat at a quiet corner table in a small cafe, one hand wrapped around a coffee cup that had long since cooled. His gaze drifted out the window, taking in the sights of the street but focusing on none of them.

The hum of the cafe, the muted conversations and clinking cups, was soothing. A moment of quiet felt surreal as he waited for you to meet him.

“Excuse me?”

Nanami looked down to see a small girl, maybe six or seven years old, standing by his table. Her eyes were round and curious, and she was staring at the healed web like burn scars on his face and the scars that peeked out from under the cuff of his shirt.

He felt a pang of self-consciousness and was about to glance away, but the girl tilted her head, undeterred.

“What happened to your face?” she asked, her tone as innocent as her question.

Nanami blinked. He wasn’t used to such direct curiosity. Most people (adults) either looked away out of politeness or offered a sympathetic smile that he never quite knew how to respond to. But this child simply waited, eyes bright and expectant.

He took a steadying breath. “I got hurt while I was working,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But I’m alright now.”

“Oh,” she replied, digesting this. She looked at his hand, tracing her gaze over the marks on his fingers and wrists. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore.” He found himself softening a bit, his usual reserve giving way to something gentler in the face of her openness.

She nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer, and then broke into a grin. “I think it looks cool. It’s like super hero scars. You must be one!”

Nanami couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not a superhero.”

The girl crossed her arms, as if deep in thought. “My dad says superheroes don’t always wear capes. He says sometimes they’re just regular people who help.”

Nanami felt something twist in his chest at that. “Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

“Sometimes,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “But he doesn’t like coffee or chocolate. He says it tastes like dirt.”

Nanami let out a quiet chuckle. “It does, a little bit. But I like it anyway. And chocolate? That sounds criminal.”

The girl laughed with him “That’s what I think! Chocolate is yummy. He’s nuts.” For a moment, it felt like the weight of everything he’d been carrying was a little lighter.

“My name is Emi.”

“I’m Nanami. It’s nice to meet you Emi. Where are your parents?”

“Behind the counter. They own the cafe.” She smiled as she waved at her dad who gave an apologetic look towards Nanami.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asked, swinging her arms a bit as she looked around the cafe.

“Sometimes. Me and my wife like the pastries here. Or I come here to think.”

She seemed to consider this, then pulled a bright red crayon from the front pocket of her Bluey bag and placed it carefully on the table. “Here. In case you need to write something while you think. Or your wife!” she offered earnestly.

Nanami took the crayon, holding it between his fingers as if it were made of glass. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft. “That’s very kind of you.”

The gentle wind from the door opening brought Nanami’s eyes up and to you as you walked over. “Hi darling.”

You bent to kiss his cheek and smiled before looking over at the little girl. “Well hello! Do we have a new friend?”

“I’m Emi! Is Mr. Nanami your husband?”

You nodded sitting down at the table but still keep contact with the girl.” “Uh huh. He is.”

“Thats so cool. You’re married to a super hero! Did you know that?”

You looked up to Nanami, confused as he chuckled and traced his thumb over the crayons paper wrapping. “It’s.. we’ll get to that in a second.”

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass