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gutsby · 1 year ago

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Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch.

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y��want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

#TO THE CREATIVE MINDS WHO BROUGHT THIS MAN’S BUSH TO TELEVISION…..I OWE Y’ALL MY LIFE #it took COURAGE and TENACITY to decide that showing the happy trail was essential to the narrative #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller

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livelaughlovesubs · 8 months ago

Note

Omg omg for the prompt thing making Fyodor and/or Sukuna beg and kneel pls 🙏

KEKEKEKEKE YES YES YES one fedya and one sukuna right away! (Edit: I really like how fedya’s turned out?)

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor/ sub!sukuna (separate)

Warning: begging & kneeling (both) ~light size kink, monster fucker (sukuna’s true form hehe), marking, biting, nipple play, groping, teasing~ (sukuna)

Anniversary event

Fyodor

“What a pleasant surprise, the demon Dostoyevsky is looking for my humble self?” You sat back and got into a comfortable position, voice dripping with fake politeness as you sneakily eyed him up and down. It was well-known that he’s a dangerous individual, you had to be careful. “Oh please, no need to use such flattering words. I’m here to ask for a favour after all.” Fyodor smiled gently, if you didn’t know better you’d think he was a kind and innocent man.

“A favour? I’m not sure I have anything worthy of your standard.” How you wished he’d just leave and never come back, you didn’t like this pressure one bit. “You are too modest, y/n. I’m aware of how knowledgeable you actually are.” He commented. On the surface it looked like a compliment, yet you understood the implications behind it. “Is that so? Because I’m not sure what you are talking about.” You continued playing the naive card, it was the safest bet for now.

The male chuckled, his posture was straight as he stared right into your eyes, maintaining eye contact. “Then, I’ll get straight to the point,” he said, his tone shifting from a distinct softness to a rather serious one. “I want information about the book.” You knew about his ambitions, and his goals, which is why you knew what he wanted from you. As such, his request didn’t come off as a surprise, and it didn’t show on your face neither. But fyodor already took that into account, he knew it as well.

Someone with infinit information and someone smart enough to predict the future, what a match.

You had to think carefully, even if you weren’t as intelligent as this genius in front of you, you had an advantage. Because it’s him who’s asking for a favour. “What will I gain out of telling you?” For a split second, his dead eyes lit up, as if you peaked his curiosity. “A future rid of sinners, mankind in its most glorious form. One where order and harmony spreads across the world.” What grand endeavours he had, but it didn’t concern you in the slightest.

“How do I put it, your offer isn’t enticing enough.” You thought you had won, keeping a collected face to mask your small victory. Though it seems it wasn’t over yet, since his next words send a chill down your spine. “I expected so, that’s why that’s not everything.” He then got up from his seat, getting dangerously close to you. His eyes bore a determined and prideful look, one that pierced your soul, that made him seem all knowing.

“You aren’t the only one who did a background check.” Fyodor sneered, now standing right in front of you, staring down at you with those violet eyes. “I wonder if you’ll still refuse me if I do this?” Somehow, you had a bad feeling about this, your stomach curled as you hesitated. Each movement seemed so difficult due to the pressure, it was suffocating. You knew he was great at manipulation, at using others, especially their desires, and he understood human emotions so well it was terrifying.

Since you knew all of that, you were prepared, no?

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

He dropped onto his knees, the gaze in his eyes shifted, though still prideful, it was more.. docile now. As gracefully as ever, he placed his hands on his lap, staring up at you with the same tender expression as before. Meek smile and big, carefully planned puppy eyes, though you knew it was an act, it stirred emotions you didn’t want to feel. It made your heart soft.

If you were still resolute, hanging onto your willpower, then you were gone after the next sentence from the male. Fyodor did his homework very throughly. That sickly sweet and addicting voice, laced with a hint of need, whispering in a tone that made your insides tingle, “please fulfil my little request, I’d do anything for it. I… beg of you? Moya lyubov?” A faint blush crept up his pale cheeks, adding even more flavour to the already fantasy-like show laid out before you. Now, you couldn’t help but grin all sadistic, for you have fallen into the temptation of the devil itself.

Sukuna

Oh how he treasured you, it was beyond the grasp of his other supporters.

With how things stand, you were his only weakness, and they couldn’t let that be. Yet, their lord, the king of curses, was too smitten with you to care. All they wanted was a reason, an answer to their question: why?

It goes all the way back to when he was like any other human. Not with four arms, and four eyes, not even when he was the strongest sorcerer. No, back in time where he was simply human. From that point onwards, you’ve always accompanied him, stayed by his side and cheered him on. It was only a matter of time until he’d eventually become soft with you. And now, even after his body mutated into his current state, you stayed by his side with the same conviction like decades ago.

But due to him being used to killing, and him just being so much stronger than you, a part of him was afraid of crushing your delicate body into pieces. That’s why he refused to touch you until he was sure he had full control over his strength. What if a simple hug ended with you dying in his arms? He couldn’t let that happen now could he.

Even so that didn’t hold you back, rather, you were amused by his dedication. At times it was annoying how he saw you as a frail porcelain doll, though you were mostly enjoying this peculiar circumstance. Especially when you are sitting behind his massive form, kissing his neck and leaving hickeys while your hands trail around his body, exploring every single inch. And he couldn’t stop you at all.

You pulled back to admire your own work, then made yourself bigger and leaned over his shoulder, “you don’t mind if I continue, right?” He didn’t answer you, only giving you a half-assed glare as he stayed put. You took it as a yes, since, if he didn’t want to, he could always just standup and leave. That’s why your eager hands wandered to his full breasts, cupping them with your palm as you smirked perversely. Wasn’t it just so much fun? Doing whatever you wanted to the strongest men alive?

After squeezing them to your hearts content, you used your fingertips to circle around his pink nipples. He had such a tough body, and high pain resistance, so it’s the gentle touches that make him lose his mind. “…really? You like my chest that much?” Sukuna sighed, despite how much he’d complain, he never objected to your antics. “Yep, they are awesome.” You answered almost immediately, he was almost impressed by how shameless you were.

“Huh, I don’t get the appeal.” He said, though he liked having your attention on him. “I just like feeling you up with my hands.” You admitted, and, as if to prove your point, slid one hand down to his mouth-tummy. “Mhm..” The male coughed, acting as if he was clearing his throat. Seeing as you finally drew a reaction out of him, you began to fondle his body again. One hand stayed around his pecs, rubbing his hardened bud, the other one jumping from one place to another. As of now, you were using it to grope his inner thighs.

“Hmmm- haaah, y/n, you really are something.” He panted, closing his eyes, immersing himself in the sensations you gifted him. “No need to hold back, we are by ourselves.” You whispered, before going back to sucking and biting his shoulder blades. Even though that’s what you said, he didn’t need your words, until you began tugging on his sensitive nipple. “Nghh, ah… damn it.” When he realised what noise just slipped from his lips, he cursed under his breath, an almost invisible blush covering his cheeks and shoulders. It was the most noticeable around his ears.

When you glanced over his shoulder again, you noticed the growing bulge in his pants. Now you really couldn’t hide your grinning anymore, stopping whatever you were doing with your hands and instead hugging him from behind. He didn’t object at first, but got annoyed after a while, taunting you, “..aren’t you going to continue? What, suddenly feeling embarrassed?” To which you replied, “it seems like you don’t enjoy what I’m doing, so, of course, I stopped.” Liar, that’s what you say whenever you want something from him.

“And how can I prove you otherwise?” Sukuna feigned a groan, though you saw how the corners of his mouth twitched. “Get on your knees and beg, then I’ll believe you ♡.”

You must be the luckiest human on earth, for surviving after asking him to do something like that, and that he’s into this power tipping thing as long as he gets to do it with you. So, without much delay, he popped down from the bed and smiled confidently, as he basically demanded, “touch me more,,, please?”

“…”

you had to teach him how to really beg

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bohemianblasphemy · 3 months ago

Text

Can I help?

Castiel x fem! Reader

Sam and Dean have left for a case, leaving you to have a few quiet nights in the bunker by yourself- but your sleep schedule is out of wack, that is until Castiel checks in on you.

Contains: fluffy smut, oral (f! Receiving), doggy style, unprotected PinV sex, just kinda cute

A/N: damn this took me too long, I hope you enjoy! ✨

Sam and Dean had left for a hunt, leaving you to your own devices at the bunker. They were hesitant on bringing you with them -

Their claim of it being too dangerous for you- despite your stubborn protests as you had been on more than enough hunts with them before, the brothers weren’t having it.

As the old doors echoed, announcing the brother’s departure, The Men of Letters bunker turned into an eerie, quiet space. Looming walls that held so much history and mystery, an infinite amount of books to last a mortals lifetime.

Despite having the place to yourself, the first few nights made it difficult for you to sleep, the silence and loneliness making you toss and turn. Anything and everything you had tried to have a somewhat restful nights sleep didn’t make a lick of difference.

Another solitary night rolled around, the sun setting on the sequestered shelter. Dean had called to say they’d be back in a day or so, which brought on a sense of relief over your weary self- but it still meant that you had to endure a few more restless nights.

The shiny surface of the kitchen island had ingredients of your dinner scattered along it, slowing cleaning up as you waited for it to be ready to eat. You hummed softly and swayed along to the soft rock music playing from your speaker, acting as a distraction from the sound of silence that still echoed through the lonely halls.

Your tired, distracted mind didn’t comprehend the sound of fluttering wings- Castiel had manifested within the bunker, smoothing out his tan coat that he always wore- following the sound of music down the cold corridor.

As he turned the corner, his eyes fell on you- his icy blues watched as you danced around, cleaning the last spot of spilled food on the counter, the sound of your humming bringing a quirk of a smile to appear.

Cas always admired you; he’d encountered all kinds of beings in the many millennia he had been living, no one too different to catch his eye until he met you- someone that made him question all he’d ever known about humanity, an indent of his loyalty to the higher power.

“Hello.” Castiel’s distinct, unwavering tone standing in the door way, his hands smoothing out his coat.

The sudden interruption of your little dance party made you yelp in surprise, turning around to face where the disembodied voice was coming from.

When your eyes landed on cas, a shaking sigh of relief fell from your lungs- your heart still rapidly pounding.

“Dammit- cas, please knock next time…” you chuckled nervously as you put your hand on your chest, trying to ease your racing heart.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how else to announce my presence.” He stepped into the kitchen, watching as you served yourself a bowl of pasta.

“It’s okay, a knock will do for next time.” You were still turned away from him, trying to calm your nerves- not just from the adrenaline rush of being spooked, but cas’s presence made you on edge- he was an celestial being, a soldier of God, the object of your attraction... it felt wrong to have these certain feelings toward him but it was impossible to hold it back, like trying hold a door closed with your bare hands as a wild animal tried to force its way inside.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your company?” you turned and waltzed to the small dining table, sitting yourself down on one of the stools to dig into your dinner, your eyes followed as cas sat opposite you.

“Dean asked me to check on you, said something about you possibly ‘flying off the handle’, but I don’t remember ever you having a bicycle accident.” You chuckled at Castiel saying something like that, the idiom flying over his head.

“Figure of speech cas, I don’t own a bicycle. It means going a bit out of my mind, since I’ve been alone for a while without them.” Cas nodded at your explanation, seeming to understand deans words a little more.

It was silent between you two, except for the music continuing in the background and the clinking of your spoon on the ceramic bowl.

He stared you once more, the way you chewed and swallowed your food- the way you blew air on the steaming morsels upon your spoon before every bite.

“You right there angel?” You muttered, eyeing his gaze on your movements. He nodded. “I am fine, thank you for asking.” He didn’t pick up that you knew he was staring, not that you minded…

Another thing he noticed as you finished your meal was the multitude of yawning you did, sensing your sleep deprivation and exhaustion.

“You’re tired.” He noted, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “You haven’t slept properly for the last few days.” It was like he was a behavioural analyst, and you were being profiled to filth.

“That obvious huh?” You took your bowl to the sink, him following close behind you as you washed your dishes. His eyes gazed at your hands and then back to your face, seeing every twitch and scrunch your facial muscles contorting into your expressions.

“You’re yawning a lot and your eye bags are slightly purple from the deprivation.”

Gee. Thanks Cas.

“You can be a little too honest at times, you know that?” You looked at him, your tone without malice.

“Honesty is good isn’t it?” He replied, tipping his head to the side. “Yes it is, it’s just-“ your body expelled another yawn, further proving his point.

“Why haven’t you slept?” He asked, watching as you dried your hands with a hand towel. You sighed softly, your tired pupils turned to his.

“It’s too… quiet. I thought I’d be okay but it’s just lonely.” You admitted. “I tried tea, meditation, magnesium - hell, I tried some army technique to fall asleep in one minute but I got bored.” You paused for a moment, looking at him again. “I don’t like being alone here…”

Castiel hummed in understanding, putting his hands in his coat pockets. He wanted to help, not liking that you were struggling to sleep, and on top of that being isolated from others.

“I can stay with you tonight.” His offer made the tips of your ears flush pink.

“I understand that you feel more comfortable with someone being here with you so, I’ll stay… if that’s what you wish of me.” He offered, his expression wasn’t as neutral as it had usually been, a small curl of his smile appearing.

“O-oh uh-“ you stuttered, your brain fizzled and the words failed you- the pink tinge on your ears moving down your face and neck as you continued to fumbled your words.

Castiel cleared his throat, about to turn on his heel as he wanted to conceal his own cheeks flushing. “Sorry that may not have been appropriate of me to offer, I can go if you’d rather-“

“No no- I want you to stay… please.” Your voice was soft, almost vulnerable as you reached for his wrist to keep him in place.

He turned back around to face you once again, seeing the need for a good nights sleep and something deeper than that- the soft twinkle in your eye had him detecting something more affectionate, which made his stomach fill with those hypothetical butteries.

All he did was nod in confirmation and give you a small smile. He watched as you yawned again, checking the time and seeing that it was starting to get late.

“I’m going to start to get ready for bed, um- did you wanna… go to my room? Settle in?”

Cas didn’t respond right away, his face going a little wide eyed. “If you’ll have me.” His stubbled cheeks were pink, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed his nerves.

“Of course I’ll have you…” you replied, letting go of his wrist to turn off the lights in the kitchen. “Cmon…” you stood in the doorway, watching as cas shuffled his feet along the hard floor after you. “You do know angels don’t sleep?” He walked along side you. “Yeah cas I know, it’ll still help knowing that you’re there..”

Castiel’s heart fluttered with those butterflies at your words, the thought of him helping you like this- being in such proximity to you in a very intimate way… heaven help him.

The pair of you reached your room in silence, the door closing behind you both with a loud bang that echoed the lonely corridors. “I’ll just get changed really quickly… do you mind turning around?”

“Of course.” He turns on the spot, facing the wall- standing as still as possible. The action made you giggle, thinking he looked like he go sent to stand in a corner for breaking a rule.

As you stripped yourself off and started to change into your oversized t shirt and pyjama shorts, Castiel’s mind raced of what you would look like, the sight of your bare skin and the curves of your body, how good you would feel under his fingers-

“You can turn around now…” as if he were under a spell he turned around, the heat pooling in his stomach as his eyes glazed over you…

“You look… comfortable.” He was trying so hard not to stare, but it was hard not to- the effortlessly beautiful human standing before him.

Smiling you nodded in agreement, moving over to the large bed in the corner- pulling the corner of your duvet to get under the sheets.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, you observed Castiel slip off his shoes, his tan coat and suit jacket laid flat on the desk chair to the side of him as he pulled his navy tie from his neck.

You peeled your eyes away, giving him the privacy to get himself changed. “Wait- cas do you even have clothes to change into?”

You looked up at him, your mouth parted in awe as Castiel stood before you in his white boxer shorts.

Seeing him like this, his torso on display- his near flawless skin, tufts of hairs along his chest and down past his navel… he was ethereal. “Is this okay? I can put my shirt back on if you’re not comfortable-“

“No no, that’s more than fine.” Your voice was soft, keeping watch as he came and sat by your side.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the faint sound of your breathing with his filling out the void of silence, the unresolved tension hanging over you two- practically begging for one of you to say something - anything to break it.

“Have you heard of um… pressure therapy?” You asked softly, your gaze falling to the small gap between you both. “What’s that?” He asked, his head falling to the side in curiosity. “I guess it’s like using your weight to relieve stress to the body and relax… like cuddling.”

“Are you wanting to cuddle with me?” Cas was straight to the point, no judgement or any undertone of malice. The blush of pink returned to your skin with a nod. “Lay down for me then.” He asked, seeing your body move to the furthest side of the bed where you normally slept, him following suit and lying down beside you.

There was still a small gap between you, it being extinguished as Castiel pulled you toward him. His arm wrapped around your waist, the grip just a tad too tight for you.

“Um Cas- a little too firm there…” you chuckle, smiling softly at him. “O-oh, sorry...” He softened his grip and smiled amusingly, his arm loosening but still wrapped around your back.

You positioned yourself comfortably against Castiel’s chest- one hand curled into your chest whilst the other rested on his bicep- the warm skin radiating through your palm.

The pair of blue eyes before you gazed down at yours, the hand on your back slowly making patterns against the material of you- the sensation making you scoot closer to him, your own hand softly moving along his bicep.

“This is nice…” you whispered, your breath fanning across cas’s collar which caused a shiver to flow through his spine. He hummed in agreement, bringing his hand up now to your face- pushing a few loose strands behind your ear. “Really nice…” his voice became low, his fingers running through your strands of hair before massaging your scalp.

An involuntary breathy sigh fell from your lips, the sound making cas’s chest pound - wanting to hear it again as he continued to rub your sensitive scalp. Those sighs continued to leave your mouth, cas’s thoughts becoming more than sacrilegious.

Your mind wasn’t exactly creating innocent scenarios either. The fingers on his bicep tightened slightly as you moved even closer, your chest pressed up against his…

“You look beautiful…” he spoke lowly- leering down at your relaxed expression as the hand on your hair moved down your back, landing on your hip. “Y-you look beautiful too.” You chuckled at your attempt at a flirty compliment, only for it to fall not so gracefully. “Dammit…”

Castiel chuckled, finding it admirable, His thumb traced slow circles around your hipbone. He watched as your breath hitched- the line between keeping this moment soft and sweet, and downright sinful blurring as the growing desire built upon you two.

A small mumble of your name and a curled index finger under your chin brought your attention up to him, the once light blue now navy pupils boring into yours. His intense stare spoke so many words, the way they flicked between yours and your lips.

“Can I?” He whispered, that longing look in his eyes drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Your quick nod was all that was needed as he wet his lips and leaned forward- capturing your lips in a needy, warm kiss.

It was as if the world had ceased to exist around you, the way your lips moved along each other perfectly made time stand still. He rolled you onto your back, moving himself to settle between your legs and wrapping them around his hips.

Castiel pulled away from your lips, watching as you chased them for more. “You feel so good.” he grumbled, pressing his kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

You rejoiced in his kisses, accompanied by his hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to feel the warmth of your stomach. “Wanna take it off?” You breathed as you gazed up at him. Castiel was enamoured with your flushed cheeks, plush lips and your hair sprawled out among the pillows- nodding as he pulled off your shirt, staring at your bare chest.

“So beautiful…” he whispered, starting to kiss down your chest- moving his mouth to mark your skin as he reached your breasts.

His mouth captured one of your hardened nipples, a hand raising up to pinch and grope at the other. You groaned his name, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth- feeling his teeth gently bite down on the peak of your breast. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you for so long.” You confessed. “You have no idea how much restraint I’ve had to endure to not put my hands on you…

“Can I keep going?” His voice had become husky, placing a wet kiss between your tits. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You demanded, earning a smirk from cas as he made his way further down your torso. His tongue ran down your stomach, leaving more wet kisses on your burning skin when he reached the top of your shorts.

Cas’s eyes flicked up, asking for your permission to take them off. When he witnessed your eager nod, his long fingers hooked under the elastic, pulling them down along your soft thighs.

“No underwear…” he groaned, seeing your bare pussy being revealed as he peeled off the pyjama shorts- the sheen of wetness on your core making his mouth water.

“All this for me?” The question quietly leaving his lips as he leaned his head forwards, nearing your glistening cunt. “All for you cas, only for you…”

“Only for me…” he repeated, no longer wanting to hold back as he connected his lips to your wetness, a hum of satisfaction as he tasted you for the first time.

The grip he had on your hips made it almost impossible to writhe amongst the sheets. His tongue weaving its way along your silken folds, flicking the tip of it against your sensitive clit to send shock waves up your spine- your back jolting off the mattress ever so slightly.

“Cas…” your mouth fell open as the call of his name like it was a prayer - making cas moan against your wetness. “That’s it… call out my name.” His words came out confidently, his mouth wrapping around your clit and sucking on it gently- hearing your whines echo through the air.

The quiver and twitching of your thighs around Castiel’s head indicated your release was near- your hips jolting as his tongue twirled that sensitive nub. “Fuck! Cas I’m gonna- gonna cum…” “Cum for me sweet girl… c’mon.” He listened as your breath hitched and your hands held his head in place, grinding yourself on his face as your orgasm washed over your body.

“C-cas…” you could only muster up his name, your chest rising and falling as stars filled your vision. Castiel’s grip on your hips loosened as he crawled up to come face to face with you. “Was that… good?” He asked almost too casually, as if he didn’t just gift you an absolutely mind blowing orgasm.

“You- you are incredible…” you muttered, sitting up slightly to capture his lips with yours. A hand snaked down his chest toward his achingly hard cock; squeezing his length softly. “Fuck…” he brooded, his hips involuntarily bucking up into the palm of your hand. “Your turn…” you whispered as you dipped your hand down his briefs.

“N-no…” he stopped you. “I can’t- I can’t wait any longer. I need to fuck you.” He was almost begging for it, needing to bury his cock in you. You bit your lip again, pulling his cock out of his briefs.

“Please, fuck me… I need it, need you.” You were aching for him, slowly moving your hand along him. Cas closed his eyes in pleasure, before he flipped you over suddenly. “I’m going to fuck you like you deserve… and you deserve only the best.” He praised you, kissing the side of your neck before he kneeled behind you, pulling you hips up into the air as he prepared to take you.

With your face buried amongst the pillows, your ass arched up in the air you felt Cas traced himself along your slit before sinking himself into you- the air exhaling from his lungs as the walls of your cunt squeezed around his cock. “You feel- amazing…” he praised, slowly rocking into you.

A long, pleasured cry left your mouth once more as cas moved, his hips snapping into yours at a faster pace.

“Fuck me cas- please, go faster…” you trembled, arching your back further. Castiel groaned your name as his grip on your hips grew tighter as his thrusts became stronger, hitting that spot inside you; Your moans of his name and pleads of more filled his ear drums.

He was on absolute cloud nine; the sweetest side of heaven couldn’t compare to this moment with you, bringing you utmost pleasure.

The thrusts became more ragged and sloppy, the heat within his stomach reaching its boiling point- his deep groans turning into whines. “S-shit, im so close…” he uttered, your velvet walls constricting around him as you neared your second orgasm. “Fuck cas, cum inside me…” you pleaded, the pads of your fingers reaching for your clit to quicken your release.

Castiel heard your cries as your second climax fell through you, which helped him finally fall over the edge. “s-so good, so good for me…” his cum filling up your tight cunt deliciously with a whiney, lusty groan of your name and a shiver running through his body.

Your body shook as he filled you with hot cum, exhaustion and satisfaction being the only things you felt in that moment. Cas let out a soft moan as he pulled out of you, pulling your torso up to be pressed flush against his chest.

“You are… exquisite.” He praised you once more, turning your chin to the side so he could kiss your lips again, moving his lips to your neck as he wrapped his arms around your torso. “I could get addicted to you, Castiel.” You giggled, eyes fluttering closed as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m already there.” He whispered hoarsely, chuckling softly as he pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up hm?” He suggested as he observed you nodding. “Then I can finally get that good nights sleep.” You chuckled, seeing Castiel’s sweet smile form on his face.

“Yes, you’ll sleep well tonight…”

Tags: @bluemerakis

#castiel #supernatural #castiel headcanons #castiel fanfic #castiel x reader #castiel smut #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural preferences #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #supernatural fandom #spn #spn smut #spn x reader

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novelistwriter · 1 month ago

Text

Out of Sync

DP x DC Prompt

Halfa Biology is so much more complex than what is believed. The Mortal and the Ghost sides are two separate entities. In order to become a "True Halfa," both Mortal and Ghost sides must align with each other.

During the portal incident, Danny was sucked into the portal and into the Infinite Realms/Ghost Zone, but as Phantom, an all black Ghost with a permanent Ghost Tail and stars littered across his body, piercing green eyes, flowing white hair, and a mouth that's large when he fully opens it, which also has sharp teeth.

Phantom, as he named himself, lived in the Infinite Realms/Ghost Zone for a few years, thinking that their a full ghost when they were suddenly pulled into a portal that wasn't natural. Phantom had popped back out of the Fenton Portal after Jazz, Sam, and Tucker turned it back on, years later. They turned it on so they could see if Danny had become a Ghost.

Phantom does spend time with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, not knowing them, but happy to make new friends.

The entirety of the Danny Phantom Canon happens, but without the Fenton Parents, they've moved out of Amity when they learned what happened to Danny. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker are adults, same with the rest of Danny's class, and without "The Ultimate Enemy" happening. Phantom has also inherited the Ghost King title because Vlad Plasmius opened the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep to gain more power.

And then the GIW came, with Fenton Tech they got from Jack and Maddie, Jazz had a hard drive with the tech on it. The GIW had easily captured Vlad Plasmius and ended them. They captured Phantom, but before anything could be done to Phantom, he was saved by Jazz, Sam, and Tucker and sent through the portal back at the old Fentonworks building.

And then Phantom is immediately sent through a natural portal that spits him out in Gotham.

Phantom then makes friends with all of the Batfam members. It takes a while to befriend all of them, as the stabby Robin and Brooding Batdad are the most difficult to befriend out of all of them.

And then something happens that turns Phantom back into Danny, who is still 14, and doesn't know what happened and where he is.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcu #dp crossover #ghost king danny #dp x dc prompt #batman

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sunboki · 1 month ago

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⎯ boy of the forest. ( teaser ) ⟡ featuring yang jeongin

🦌 : Greek god! Yang Jeongin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. Greek mythology! au, Son (unofficial since Artemis swore to celibacy) of Artemis! au, mortal! reader au, slightly sheltered Jeongin (he’s so respectful i wanna cry), fluff fluff fluff, best friends to lovers, teaching how to kiss, so soft

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 6k words

WARNINGS. usage of arrows, mention/heavily focused on greek gods/goddesses, mention of animal bones, inclusion of a venomous snake, playful fighting

AUG'S NOTES. alright, as someone who’s a sucker for anything Greek Mythology, this was exciting!! but difficult (😭😭). for now you’re only getting a snippet, but combining my past knowledge of these myths and their capabilities and merging it with more modern ethics is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped over my head and having a field day all in one. it was worth it :) anywho, please tell me what you think!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Since you were a child, both tales and encounters with the children of the gods became a prevalent pattern in life. Friendship with Hermes’ son, those early morning by the water allowing interaction with Poseidon’s child. And yet, your intrigue upon hearing word of the unofficial offspring of Artemis, sired under her teachings and oaths in a forest most avoided drew you infinitely closer. So what happens when curiosity gets the best of you?

or alternatively :

How quickly one can turn from a stranger to a beloved.

“I— I forfeit!”

Shouts Han, smacking the skin of your thigh repeatedly for you to loosen your death-like grip around his head.

Either of you furiously tussle on the muddy ground of Sokcho’s eastern coastline as if routine, where utter delight in each of the messenger-to-be’s visits end in a few new bruises and a judgemental eyeball from your father when you trudge through the door.

With him being the son of Hermes, your daily visits from Han Jisung had been shortened to weekly once he became more and more occupied taking up his role as the messenger god’s offspring, so you truly give it your all each time his face comes into view.

Which usually means bowling the boy over the moment his winged-shoes touch ground.

Of course, all in good fun. You’ve known the kid since you were a child, listening with wonder as he explained all about his life in Olympus, his father, Hermes, his abilities.

Upon first glance he appears a normal, awkward teenager, but gold coloration swimming within his irises and superhuman reflexes, stamina, and speed, you knew better than to believe that.

Luckily, he gives you a fair fight whenever you spar, ensuring no foul play leads to unfair victories.

Meaning: you win, every time.

Breathing in a huge gasp, the both of you collapse onto sodden soil, chests heaving to replace expelled air. Of course, getting kicked in the stomach and returning the favor with a solid punch to his jaw didn’t help with that factor.

“Three… Three weeks,” You pant, the equally grimy back of your hand swiping strands of hair from a sweaty forehead.

Han mindlessly grunts from below you, body refusing to move even a mere centimeter.

“Yeah yeah, I get it. I’m nothing against you, rub it in.”

You croak a laugh at the sheer exasperation in his tone, accustomed to your feigned gloating antics.

“No– That’s not it Sungie, I just wanted to say.” Using your arms to hold you up while surveying the similarly battered man whose head rests on your stomach, you tip his chin upwards with a finger, forcing those irrevocably hypnotizing eyes to meet yours.

Never sunken, tired.

Han Jisung was a marvel.

And for a moment, he begins to think you’ve grown soft after these years.

“I still won.”

Nevermind.

Whining with dismay, he takes the hand you extend out to him upon standing, earning a playful smack to the shoulder whilst collecting the shoes so carelessly discarded up by the dunes.

Feet sinking into the warm sand below, you’re offered a moment to spare a glance back to the lapsing waters, tumbling over themselves with morning’s ferocious tides.

This is the only time you usually get to see him, and as if a mere memory, he’ll disappear all the same.

Townspeople were never fond of children of the gods. They spoke of mischief, ill-doing in response to their appearances.

A long-lived grudge, one from ancestor after ancestor. And yet, most chose to live ignorant to the swirling deities all around. Those more gracious sunny days when someone mentions Helios, or the subdued waves compared to that of merciless plunder ashore by Poseidon.

As a result, Han never stayed long, leading you to arrive by this peculiarly isolated portion of the beach at dawn for his quick stops before flying off.

You didn’t mind. It was worth it in the end.

Early wake-ups, that is.

Arriving randomly and becoming a part of you habitually. Like an old cut turning into a scar, commemorating happenings of the past.

It didn’t take your father long to grow curious over what his daughter rushed off to every day. And so, about a year ago, you told him. All about Han’s sudden presence, then developing into a friend–a best friend.

Fortunately, he wasn’t upset in the slightest. Initially disbelieving, perhaps, but not angry nor discontented.

In fact, the man seemed more interested than anything, asking you abundant questions about what he looked like, his features, aptitude.

You didn’t blame him, for it wasn’t every day news of an interaction with the ancient bloodline was spoken of.

Instead, you indulged in those child-like curiosities just as avidly as he inquired, resulting in frenzied conversation at the dinner table for a multitude of hours that night.

“Jisung!”

Having called his name after the harsh knock back into reality, you fish through your pockets before he leaves in recollection of something you’d been wanting to give him.

The boy’s face deadpans, obviously awaiting another one of your tricks.

“If you flick me off, I’m never coming back.”

Fretful shuffling dulls his mumble inaudible, merely humming in acknowledgment and successfully clutching the metal between your index and thumb after panicked searching.

A pin, like that attached to tote bags, jeans.

“For you to put on your bag, so you can think of me all the time.”

The wink of yours causes him to wrinkle his nose and stick out his tongue at you, and you can’t help your smile from growing bigger and bigger the longer he investigates the apparent pin you’ve placed in his palm.

“Is this… a pigeon?”

Out of all the birds you’ve been teaching him about in your realm, he had to pick the most pitiful one.

“No! We studied this one! It’s a hawk, y’know since you’re kind of like a bird?” Flapping your arms to sell the idea, he huffs in exasperation, nonetheless fitting the pin to his satchel overflowing with envelopes.

“Alright alright.” Laughing at the pout tugging at his lips, it’s almost instinctive when you press a sugary sweet kiss to his cheek, soaked up gleefully by Hermes’ son like always.

Han Jisung is very much adoring of your affection. Frankly, any affection overall.

“Think it’s about time you get going, delivery boy.”

Flying into your arms (both figuratively and literally), he places his own kiss to your opposing cheek, grinning that irritably charming grin ceaselessly worn.

Guessing what he’ll say next comes easily, but you still entertain the remark anyway.

“Now our kisses complete each other!” He predictably exclaims, beginning to levitate as the miniature wings on his sneakers beat tirelessly. “See you soon Y/N! Stay safe!!”

Waving in response while he drifts further and further into the atmosphere, you wait until his figure is officially gone to move, stepping toward the dock. This way, you can secure the best view of the sunrise peering above clouds without any interruptions.

Ideal.

Truthfully, it never irked you being a mortal amongst your assortment of acquaintances.

You enjoyed it, actually.

Freedom without responsibility to save from evil left you plenty of time to explore, to exist. Not that you didn’t respect them, but the experience seemed too tasking for your liking.

“Back again?”

Speaking of acquaintances.

More specifically speaking of Poseidon as a pair of calloused—though gentle—hands fasten around your calves dangling off the dock’s edge, dragged into the chilly depths below before you can reply by none other than Chan, or, using his birth name, Christopher Bahng.

Son of Poseidon.

Ironic.

Not to mention are there any daughters of the gods..? Jeesh.

Anyway.

You half expected him to tap your shoulder and say hello when hearing him approach from behind as he normally did, the creaking in the dock’s wooden panels enough indication your friend was present on most occasions.

Although unlike Han Jisung, Chris was sporadic in his visits. An old friend from school, he chose to keep his identity a secret, allowing the eccentric father of his to care for the seas while he led a human life teaching kids how to swim at your town’s aquatic center.

Upon finding you speaking to Han in his natural form, a year or so ago, the man eventually found ease in your company as well, comfortable revealing himself and oftentimes showing up to simply converse without turtle necks or high-collared swimsuits concealing the set of gills right below his ears.

In actuality, a part of you was happy he had to hide his gills—meaning that swoon-worthy mop of curly blond hair could grow out, curling behind his ears and furling into wild strands atop his head.

It didn’t take a genius to note how attractive Christopher Bahng was, and you certainly weren’t immune to the effect.

Careful grasp of your hips reminding you you’re safe, mere moments prevail before breaching the water’s surface, complaining about the cold while the bear of a man practically suffocates you in his arms, twisting side to side in a tight hug despite your ingenuine anger swallowed beneath laughter.

“Seriously, you can’t just do that! I might die of shock one day.”

“Well you’re definitely not that weak from how beat up poor Han looked,” He giggles, gliding with ease through chilled waters no matter your weight, courtesy of his bloodline (and whatever hell of a workout regime he followed).

About to retaliate, you pause, contemplating.

“Hey! You should’ve told me you were watching,” Stubbornly insistent, you allow the gentleman to lift you back onto the dock, his own gill-retaining form remaining in the water beneath your faux glare.

Something he grows sheepish in regards to before pointing to a blanket behind you.

So your near-drowning experience was pre-planned.

Jerk.

Although you don’t deny the goosebumps littering your arms and legs, hurriedly wrapping the warm fabric around yourself.

“Nah,” He smiles, fingers carding through unbearably endearing locks. “I wanted to see how it played out. You’ve improved a lot.”

Reaching his hand upward where you can return the fist-bump, you nod at the compliment, referring to the fact Chris taught you how to fight in the first place after your many losses against Han’s sneak attacks, something the latter still moped over to this day.

“Thanks to you,” You add, not missing the dimples dipping into his skin when he grins.

So. Very. Attractive.

Both turning to witness the fullness of today’s dawn, you can’t help but soak in the sight, carving each detail into your memory.

How lucky you are to get to see something this striking, the sky painted in innumerable streaks of warm hues.

“Say,” Redirecting his attention back to you, you balance your jaw on your hand, the pretty view provoking a bit of thinking.

“Are there any other god’s here? Or like, children of the gods?”

Assessing your question, Chris’s eyes surf his surroundings thoughtfully, wracking his mind for anyone he can think of.

“Hm,” A decisive grunt sounds where a tugs a plush bottom lip between his teeth. A sight as easy to get infatuated with as the sunrise.

“Han’s an exception since he pretty much drops by everywhere, and I’m over here because of the ocean and the location but uh… there might be? From what I’ve heard there’s likely at least one other here. You might have better luck asking Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin being the son of Eros, god of love.

Someone you’ve never met, but both Han and Chris relayed he’s the epitome of beauty.

Coming from them, that’s a feat.

You deflate.

“In Seoul?��

Yeah, no way you’re finding a way to Seoul for that. Bus fees, subway fees, coming up with an excuse to your dad? Not happening.

Chris, realizing the unrealistic circumstance, deflates along with you, expression apologetic that you hope to condole with a reassuring smile.

Noting the rate in which your clothes are drying thanks to the warmth of the sun’s rays, you gather your things, stalling when your friend—now drying off beside you—speaks up again.

“Ah, right! There is one! I’ve only met him a few times before at meetings and gatherings, but he’s the son of Artemis– well, not by birth but that’s a long story- and his name is… Jeong? Yin? No no, it’s Yang, Yang Jeongin! Yep, that’s the guy. He’s a little shy but a real cutie.”

Cringing back from the sly manner he nudges your shoulder, the high, mischievous lift of his brows indicate nothing but trouble.

If this is the mischief the townspeople mentioned, you’re starting to understand now.

Who knew the son of Poseidon was turning into a figment of Cupid?

Then again, you don’t think you’ve ever heard the name before.

Waving goodbye and thanking him for the help, your hike toward the road fills with nothing but wry banter and playful insults from the older one until dividing separate ways.

Him to the aquatic center to prep for class, you back home.

Routine.

Not-so-gracefully peeling frigid clothing from your body, the warm water of your showerhead after sneaking through quiet halls to the bathroom is greatly welcomed, mind racing while attempting to focus on sudsing shampoo into your scalp.

But when you close your eyes, reevaluation of past events and retrieval of a specific memory breach the forefront of your mind.

Yang Jeongin.

He’s giving you something to think about.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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kennedyhateskanye · 5 months ago

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Jinx dating head cannons

because i unfortunately developed a deep and uncharacteristic attraction to her.

Warnings: angst, f!reader, writing of drastically poor quality probably, codependency,

Jinx isn’t all there, you knew it very well going in, both of you, which is why her intelligence, depth, and capacity for love shocked you. Of course her mental illness rises and falls. Flaring up and resolving itself several times each day. It’s not uncommon for her to be extremely lucid and seemingly resolved of any mental block for a few hours, behaving so “normally” you’d forget she struggled at all if you didn’t know her so very well.

Of course the longer you loved her, the more resilient you became to the emotional roller coaster she dragged those around her on. You learned not to take it personally. And even more importantly, to never hold it against her, after all, if it was hard for you to deal with her mental anguish, it must be infinitely more difficult for her.

However, what most people don’t know about loving jinx, when they picture it, is that all the work it was seemed minuscule in comparison to the pay off.

She was a force of nature, complex and beautiful and unforgiving, to witness her was to be put in awe. Any struggle she gave you was collateral. You’d walk through fire for her love. Enormously more warm and sweet and all encompassing than that of any of the smirking pilties that turned their nose up at her.

She’d wake up in the middle of the night. To watch your chest rise and fall, and to thank her lucky stars that you were here with her.

She thought of you in everything, saw you in everything she did, evrey task she carried out, every tool and trinket she built

It was near constant you’d walk into your shared room to find something she’d crafted for you with her own two hands and her remarkable genius. Welded flowers, jewelry boxes, wind up toys, hell sometimes you didn’t even know what they were supposed to be, all painstakingly painted in great detail with her signature colors.

That and the notes, oh the notes. all scribed in her chicken scratch with her special quill fountain pen. You’d find them everywhere. Under cups, in your journals, on the walls, hidden beneath pillows. Some were proclamations of love, some were slightly nonsensical. Some were drawings of you two, or sketches she did of you while you weren’t looking, ink strokes depicting you distracted with a task, face scrunched in concentration.

You guessed all her little tendencies were not only small acts of love, but also reminders, that she was there, even when she was away. Jinx struggles with abandonment, scratching grading voices telling her you’ll leave her, storm off and forget about her without a second thought. So, Subconsciously she reminds you, tries to entertain and to please even in her absence.

You are her first thought in the loneliness of the morning when you’re not yet awake, she often feels a pang in her heart at the thought of you and wraps herself desperately around your body, nuzzling her face into your neck or chest to capture your scent and your presence.

She lets loose for you, lets her hair down, lets her hips sway to the music while she’s working, lets her foot tap absentmindedly, lets her subconscious train of thought out, and finds herself loving nothing more than when you reply to each bit of her ramblings as she goes.

She has never felt such relief as she has for the duration of your relationship. Someone to stay, to rub her temples and hum for her when the voices swarm hurting her head. Someone to disarm her when she hallucinates, using practiced exercises to help her check reality. Someone to bandage her hands when she chews at her cuticles and skin absent mindedly

The care absolutely goes both ways, though, and jinx truly does dote over you in endless ways.

She can sense when you are even slightly altered in any way, frustrated, sad, doesn’t matter. She can tell, and she uses her supercomputer of a brain to make a mental bullet list of the most effective ways to make your uncomfortably dissapear

Sometimes jinx looses herself in her scattered mind and forgets to come up for breath. Forgetting to bathe, to eat, to sleep. You take the burden off her shoulders, slowly and tediously washing all of her long blue hair, braiding it back into a wearable style. Scrubbing days old makeup of her face with a washcloth and a gentle hand, taking turns biting out of something you cooked for her.

After these sessions you dress her in your clothes and lay in bed together for hours wide awake, while she stares at you with wide beautiful eyes, saying very little, iorn grip on your arm or your hand, her heart racing with immeasurable love and affection

That’s a whole other thing, jinx has a very serious staring problem, your not sure what it is, but you’ve come to accept it, she often goes selectively silent and stares with her eyes blown wide. Taking in evrey facet of your being. It’s unmistakably affectionate

Jinx wants to be buried with you, jinx wants to see you through evrey season of every lifetime. There’s no question that girl loves you

#jinx arcane #jinx #arcane #arcane 2 #arcane act 3 #jinx league of legends #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi and jinx #jinx x reader

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karlachismylife · 7 months ago

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Spot on the Mark || The Queen of the Clan pt.5

CW: fem!chubby!reader, mentions of animal marking/pasting, some piss mentioned again, dead animal mentioned (no descriptions).

A lot more work goes into a wildlife documentary than you thought. It was obvious that it’s not as simple as just grabbing good quality cameras and riding off into savannah blindly, but the amount of tricks and different ways to get enough shots for a compelling and educational storyline you’re learning about seems infinite: from studying animals’ trails and routes of migration to hauling senior operators up into the trees to film fluffy and feathered stars of the future documentary as up close as possible without disturbing their natural peace.

These people have done it time and time again, telling you about the months-long stakeouts on bigger productions, the ones that can afford to simply wait every day for an animal to come and do what the script requires; the masking of carefully placed hides that can still be not enough to trick a smart bird into thinking it was all alone and perform a beautiful mating dance; the difficult hikes that test everyone’s endurance and result in barely ten seconds of footage in the end cut. You can’t help but feel excited yet intimidated when your turn comes to participate in one such trick, intended to shorten the waiting time your smaller production just can’t afford. It’s not that difficult, but it’s smart and elegant – at least in your opinion.

This is how you find yourself stuck in your Rover with Kir, wrapped in a small blanket for additional warmth, while he meddles with the sound equipment: speakers mounted on the hood of the car and a knot of wires connecting them to a laptop, screen covered up with a scarf to muffle its light. You’re holding your night vision camera pointed at a spot just several meters ahead, a fresh carcass placed under a tree to attract a carnivore, two more cameras planted at different angles on the ground and one more strapped to a branch right above the “dining table”.

A switch clicks, and the night fills with triumphant hyena whooping, a whole cacophony of different voices celebrating a kill. This is a dinner bell for lions – no matter what the public’s perception is, it’s often the big cats coming to steal hyenas’ fresh kills, not the other way around. You hold your breath, misty clouds of steam coming out of your mouth dissipating in the loud, poorly lit night. You wait.

Time doesn’t stretch as much as you would think. This isn’t a boring, monotonous wait of a text back in a stuffy big city apartment, the only “wildlife” sounds seeping through the closed windows – revving engines of nighttime dumbass street racers or neighbours yelling at each other over hysterically loud TV.

Compared to what you’re used to, savannah seems peaceful. Somewhere in the vast darkness big predators avoid each other’s paths, unwilling to start unnecessary fights. Grass rustles in a rhythmic pattern as little springhares jump through the night, stopping to glance at the huge, imposing shadow of a human car just once and continuing on their way. The wind breathes quietly and calmly with the cooling ground, welcoming a lively picture of a complex system, each part of which is perfectly in tune with others.

You feel like you could be a part of it – like it’s a place you can actually belong to, care for and be taken care of in return, unlike the constant hectic hostility of a city. They call it concrete jungles, but none of the brutal ways of nature you’ve witnessed in the wild so far can compare to the ruthless, pointless cruelty human kind inflicts on itself and everyone else.

There is a hopefulness inside you that was completely snuffed out previously, and it sounds like a smooth, lulling chirping of insects hidden in the wet grass.

Loud baboon yelling alerts you before you manage to clock any movement or hear an animal approaching your little spectacle. Insane luck. Before gluing yourself to the camera, you glance at the time and it’s barely an hour after you put the recording on – it’s hard to contain your excitement, but you manage to keep your hands steady as you scope the area in search of your guest. Kir shifts in his seat next to you, picking up his simple night vision binoculars and following the same trajectory as your camera lens.

When you see a distinctive hunched silhouette sniffing at the bait, you almost feel the tiniest bit of disappointment – no lions today, huh? – that quickly gets replaced with surprise.

The hyena doesn’t even touch the food you placed to lure animals in and turns its back on it, instead staring straight at you and Kir. Its ears twitch, clearly determining the direction where other hyenas’ noises are coming from, and slowly, almost leisurely, it moves towards you.

“It’s coming here, Kir,” you whisper, still keeping the camera rolling, too fascinated with the elegance of each silent step the huge, dark form with devilishly glowing eyes in your night vision tape takes. “Didn’t even try the meat… what do we do?”

“Ah, shit, that’s a first one.” He sounds more surprised than concerned, and after a moment of hesitation, reaches out to turn the luring sounds off. “Maybe it’s already killed and got territorial? Worst case scenario, we just scare it away. You getting the footage?”

“I… am, yeah… it’s pretty.” Somehow you aren’t even surprised anymore, when the hyena ignores the fact that the calls of its peers or more likely rivals stop abruptly – there’s something deeply wrong with them here, you decide, too much human contact or something. Maybe these ones were released from the sanctuary? But no one in their right mind would let such domesticated animals back into the wild, right?

While the myriad of possibilities swarms your mind, the camera keeps recording, and you, quite well-trained already, don’t even seem to realize that you’re following the hyena’s steps, turning the camera more and more to the side as the animal approaches your Rover. Wait-

“Tsk, hold up!” Kir’s hand hooks into your back belt loop and pulls you slightly back into the car. When did you even stand up to lean over the car door? “Let’s not diversify its diet today with soft city cookies, alright?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, sitting back down. For a moment – just a moment – you lose the animal out of sight while you pull your pants back up, and the next thing you know it’s already right in front of you.

Standing on its short hind legs and resting front paws on the car side to lean inside.

A big snout shoved almost into your face, coming into your darkness-shortened sight out of nowhere, is bound to freak you out – you drop your camera, luckily catching it in your lap, and pull back, pressing your back into Kir, who can only grunt quietly under the sudden weight and grip your shoulders protectively.

The hyena just snorts and tilts is head adorably, a soft, almost reproachful look in its bit wet eyes reflecting every little light on the car’s dashboard and your equipment. There’s something familiar to this slender, elegant snout, nodding in the air as the big nose takes in your scent, toned down by the contrasting savannah night cold.

“Chocolate?.. Is that you?” It’s a wild guess, honestly – you can’t see shit without your camera, only able to notice the hyena’s movements by the wet glistening of its eyes, nose and lips, and even through the night vision equipment you weren’t able to determine your guest’s colour – something that would definitely help distinguish Chocolate from any other hyenas; you doubt there are any others, who are already this big and grown up, yet still carry their childish dark brown hide. Maybe Chocolate is a melanistic variant? You’ve never heard of such mutations in spotted hyenas, but it’s not like you specialize in them, right?

A soft grunt tears through your thoughts again, a non-threatening pitch that almost sounds like purring – along with the repeated scratching of its claws on the steel side of your Rover, Chocolate seems like a cat more than anything. A huge, maned cat asking to be let inside.

“No-no-no, buddy, you’re not coming into the car. It’s humans only.” You try to sound stern – it seems to work on these animals, but it’s so damn hard, when your visitor whines quietly and flutters its rounded ears, staring at you hypnotically. “Come on, there’s food. Look!”

A nod in the direction of the carcass, attracting no one but some flies it seems, has no effect on the hyena. When you pretend to throw something there, Chocolate giggles quietly and lowers itself back on the ground – but when it realizes you won’t be throwing any of your real possessions for it to chase after, it stands up against, reaching its long, thick-furred neck to breathe a hot, steamy snort into your face.

And just like that, after you blink at the pretty muzzle in disbelief, trying to find an appropriate way to react to a wild, dangerous animal almost sneezing in your face, it leaves to inspect your car.

For a moment, you worry it’ll try and jump inside from the back, but it seems to have lost any interest to join a party it wasn’t invited to. Slowly, you scramble back into your seat, relieving Kir of your weight and earning a supportive pat on the back from him, and pick up your camera to watch Chocolate.

“What’s it doing?” Kir’s whisper suddenly elicits more of a reaction from the hyena than any of your stern talking – it lifts its head from the tire it was sniffing at and scowls, a striking killer smile flashing in your direction. Seeing its sharp canines nestled in the massive jaws makes a cold shiver run down your spine. This just was right in front of your face with nothing to protect you against a sudden attack.

“Shh, quiet… don’t agitate it,” you whisper back as soon as you manage to swallow the snowball-like lump in your throat. Kir shuts up, clearly a full-on believer in your hyena whisperer abilities now, and you watch on as Chocolate lowers its cute head back, sniffing and pawing at your tire.

After several minutes of looking between you and the wheel, sniffs and huffs growing more and more impatient and exasperated, it gives up on whatever it was trying to tell you – you could swear it rolls its eyes too! – and circles your car, flicking the fluffy brush on the end of its tail in what you can only assume to be a goodbye.

You’re wrong. A real goodbye is left a few meters away from the Rover on Kir’s side. Your curious night visitor stops abruptly, sniffs the air, tilting its head so far back that it almost rests on its shoulder blades, and then, without a warning – what warning could you expect though? – it crouches down to paste over a particular spot in the tall grass.

“Is that?..” – “Yes.” You tear yourself away from the camera to glance at Kir, just in time to see him sigh heavily and put his binoculars down, rubbing his hand down his face painted with disbelief, eyebrows raised high and lips pressed together. You’re still not sure – even though little snickers already start escaping your throat and roll down your nose in sweet snorts – so you pry again: “The spot where you went to-“ – “Yes.”

Even the need to hold your camera still to capture Chocolate marking its territory with a thick smelly paste smeared all over the grass Kir went to pee in several hours ago can’t prevent you from giggling. Anxious about scaring the animal and provoking it, you cover your own mouth and keep filming – eyes on the little black and white picture just in time to see Chocolate shake its plush butt, tail high up to assert dominance, and turn to look at you.

Or, perhaps, to look at Kir.

“Okay, okay, got it, no pissing on your territory. Jeez, buddy, no need to be so petty about it, I probably live here as long as you do.” Hearing Kir mutter under his nose as he gets stared down by a proud carnivore is hilarious.

“You disrespected it. What’s it like, to have a sworn enemy because of your bladder?” Your little giggles elicit two smiles at the same time – an embarrassed one from Kir, who threatens to snore into your ear directly once you wrap up this nightly stakeout, and another wide, toothy one from Chocolate.

You can’t be sure with the blurry image your camera shows you, but you once again feel like it winks at you. How likely is it for this hyena to have some eye problems that cause it to constantly dish out the flirtiest winks an animal is capable of?

“Oh, look, it’s leaving,” Kir finally turns away from the direction Chocolate left in, and just scoffs when you hear distant whooping slowly pick up in frequency before it disappears into the night. “Wanna try with the record again? I’m not sure we will attract anyone if there are actual hyenas around, though.”

“No, no, let’s try again,” you’re fully energized despite your arms feeling cold because the blanket slipped off your shoulders when you got spooked by Chocolate. Kir pulls it back up, wrapping you in a warm cocoon, and rubs your shoulder absentmindedly while he rewinds the recording and tries slightly different settings. “Maybe we’ll attract Stinky at least, these two seem to be buddies.”

“Yeah, right,” he responds, wrapping his own jacket tighter around himself. “Because that little shit will cause less chaos that the one we just saw.”

You can’t argue with that. If that was Stinky that came to the false call, it would have definitely jumped into the back of your Rover.

“At least that’s some good footage to post online. They’re cute. Will be good promo for the documentary.”

Kir grumbles something into the warm thermos, steam clouding the air between you, and hands it to you – to warm both your hands and your whole body from the inside.

Even if you don’t catch a lion tonight, you still caught something precious – right in your heart. You just have to find a way to define it properly.

Part 4 | Part 6

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte

Here's an illustration to Chocolate's visit:

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Comrades, I think I'm too deep in this now, I started watching documentaries about filming documentaries, the docuseption is coming for me...

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taro-pdf · 6 months ago

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DCxDP: De-aged Danny is a Eldritch Little Ball of Mischief

This was not how Danny envisioned his evening going. Who knew that not only did an immortal ancient fae not only live in the infinite realms, but it also really didn’t like it when Danny told it that it couldn’t go around usurping other Kings’ kingdoms for funsies? Not Danny. Until about an hour ago that is. When the Observents observed the imbalance, they had told him about it. Apparently it was important enough to literally bury him in envelopes. Well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get away from paperwork for a while, Danny had thought. It turned out to be a much more difficult task than he’d anticipated.

Lucky for Danny, he’d just won the not-so-little spat and the fae capitulated in the end, agreeing to maintain but not expand the boundaries of its haunt. Unlucky for Danny, there was a different neverborn fast approaching, and from its posture, it was not wanting to just have tea. Taking just enough time to send out a “hurt/portaling away/talk later/careful” core message to his Fraid, Danny pushed the ectoplasm in front of him to the side and willed the Realms to take him somewhere safe.

The swirling green energy was a relief. The Realms all but pushed him inside, and he fell through time and space, getting smaller and smaller to conserve the little ectoplasm he had left. He slid to the ground with a sigh. All he saw before the world faded was an overcast sky framed by the edges of apartment buildings.

****

Danny slowly woke up. The first thing he noticed was the gravel he lay on. It shifted beneath as he rolled over, bits clinging to his skin where he had been touching the ground. The second thing he noticed was the smell. The third thing he noticed was that there was a lot of noise coming from somewhere. He wrinkled his nose and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his tiny hands.

Tiny hands?

Danny looked at his hands. They were indeed tiny.

He opened and closed his tiny baby hands experimentally. They made adorable little fists, but weren’t they supposed to make big fists? How big were his hands supposed to be again? He looked at his body. His hands seemed to be the right size compared to the rest of himself, so he decided to not worry about it.

What he would worry about was his immediate comfort, and the thing bothering him most was Why Did It Smell So Bad. He pushed himself into a sitting position and then floated just of the ground. He frowned at the metal wall in front of himself. Taking a few steps back, he saw it was a dumpster… which explained the smell, at least. So what was the noise?

Peering around the dumpster, Danny saw a very small, colorful car, and the door opened to reveal a clown who shouldn’t be able to fit into such a small place. He laughed maniacally, just loud enough to cover the sounds of distress from nearby people.

“Well, well, well, Batsy! Seems your little Arkham fun house can’t hold all this FUN!” Arms spread wide, a clown extricated himself from the car and walked forward, eyes fixed on something above him. “I think someone needs to remind Gotham how to live a little, wouldn’t you agree? Why don’t you all SMILE for me?”

He threw his head back and cackled. The sound sent shivers through Danny’s body and made him flatten his ears. Ears? He glanced up and didn’t see anything. When he patted his head with his tiny adorable hands, though, he found that he did indeed have soft pointy ears. Which was… something that he probably should have feelings about.

The sound of confetti popping drew his attention away from his (maybe new) ears back to the events outside. The bystanders were smiling now, tears streaming down their cheeks. Another pop of confetti, and their smiles stretched wider. They didn’t seem to be actually smiling. Danny watched as less colorful clowns brought more people up the laughing one. He reached into the car and pulled out another confetti popper. Danny frowned. It wasn’t right to make people feel scared, and it wasn’t right to make them smile if they didn’t want to, either. Danny may be small, but at least he knew that! He started forward. The clown was big but no matter how big you were, sharp teeth still hurt. Danny licked his lips. His teeth were very sharp. Changing his tail to less noticeable little legs and little feet, he crept forward.

As he opened his mouth to BITE that horrible no good very bad clown, he was snatched up and yote! Yote from one pair of big hands to another! They wrapped up his writhing form in a firm, one armed hug and then swung him away from the clown, away from the ground, and onto the roof, where he was unceremoniously plopped down. He blinked.

He blinked again. There were other people on the roof. Some were crying. Some were smiling. Some were standing and looking over the edge. Person Who Grabbed him was one of those. Person Dressed Like A Traffic Light was another.

“He doesn’t seem affected, but he might bite,” said grabbed.

“Tt. I will be able to handle the small child. What do you take me for?” Traffic Light uncrossed his arms, pulled something from his belt, and threw it with practiced ease. Danny heard a “oof” and then thud as someone’s body thumped to the ground. Traffic Light had hurt someone!

“No! Don’t hurt!” Danny lunged for Traffic Light’s elbow, only to be grabbed by Grabbed again!

“Woah, little one!” Grabbed wore a mask, but Danny could still see his smile. “We’re taking care of the bad clowns. They are hurting people, and we want them to stop.”

“Ok,” said Danny. He didn’t like the clowns. They could get very hurt for all he cared.

(started a long time ago and unfinished)

#DPxDC #DCxDP #De-aged Danny #DCU #Danny Phantom #my writing

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p0orbaby · 9 months ago

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Squirrel? Squirrel!

summary: at this point, people just let you do what you want

warnings: nil

a/n: thanks for the request !

word count: 1.1k

You don’t remember the exact moment you decided that today was the day to catch a squirrel, but here you are, sprinting across the training grounds like a maniac. The squirrel, to its credit, looks mildly concerned, as if it didn’t sign up for this level of cardio.

Which it didn’t, but that’s none of your business.

“Why are you chasing a squirrel?” Leah shouts, barely managing to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She’s sometimes captain, which means she’s sometimes responsible for keeping things under control, a job made infinitely harder by your presence.

“I’m trying to help him,” you yell back, leaping over a stray football like you’re in some kind of Olympic hurdling event. “He looks lost!”

“Does he? Does he really?” Leah sounds like a woman on the edge, which is fair, because you’ve spent the last week convincing the new physio that the ice baths were secretly filled with pickled onions.

You’re aware that you’re the class clown of the team. If there were a formal title for it, it’d be embroidered on your jersey right under your number. The physio had been an easy target—too earnest, too eager to believe that a teenager could be trusted with serious information. You had explained with a straight face that, at Arsenal, there was a tradition of bathing in vinegar to promote circulation, and you had never seen someone look so horrified in your life. To your credit, you almost felt bad.

But not really.

Beth jogs up alongside you, her face equal parts amused and concerned, which seems to be the default expression of everyone when you’re around. “You know you’re gonna have to explain this one to Kim, right?”

“Kim loves me,” you reply, ducking as the squirrel makes a sharp turn towards the goalposts. “I’m like the daughter she never wanted”

“That’s definitely one way to put it,” Beth says, laughing as she matches your pace, which is not difficult because the squirrel is now dodging the goalposts with all the grace of a drunk toddler. “But seriously, what’s the plan here?”

The plan, if you could call it that, involves cornering the squirrel, giving it a lecture on the importance of proper nutrition (because that acorn it’s gnawing on looks suspiciously expired), and then setting it free like a wildlife warrior.

You don’t tell Beth this, though. You’ve learned that it’s best to keep your more ambitious plans to yourself until the very last minute, preferably right before they inevitably fail spectacularly.

“Improvisation is key,” you say instead, sounding like every PE teacher who’s ever tried to make dodgeball sound like a legitimate sport.

The squirrel skids to a stop by the water cooler, possibly considering hydration as a valid life choice, and you seize the opportunity to lunge at it. You miss by a good three feet, landing on the grass in a sprawl that would be embarrassing if it weren’t so common in your daily life.

From your new vantage point, you notice Lia sitting on the bench, watching the entire scene with the air of someone who has seen too much to be shocked by anything anymore. She’s eating an apple, slowly, methodically, like this is just another Tuesday.

“Need a hand?” she calls out, voice dripping with the kind of dry humor that you both appreciate and aspire to.

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, dusting yourself off as you get back to your feet. The squirrel is now halfway up a tree, looking smug, which feels like a personal attack. “I’ve got him right where I want him”

“Yeah, sure looks like it,” Leah says, finally catching up to you. She’s slightly out of breath, and you make a mental note to tease her about her fitness levels later, but right now you’ve got bigger fish to fry, or squirrels to catch.

“Maybe we should let the squirrel go,” she suggests, putting a hand on your shoulder in a gesture that could either be comforting or restraining. You’re not entirely sure. “You know, before Jonas comes out and realises his star winger is trying to wrestle woodland creatures”

You consider this for a moment. The squirrel does seem pretty intent on staying in the tree, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this level of enthusiasm. Plus, your last run-in with Jonas had involved a lengthy discussion about the dangers of free-climbing the goalposts after you’d tried to prove a point about your superior upper body strength.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh that’s more dramatic than necessary. “But only because I don’t want to give Kim another heart attack”

“Very noble of you,” Beth says, patting your back like you’ve just made a grand sacrifice.

You start to walk back towards the training pitch, the squirrel now a distant memory as you begin plotting your next escapade. Maybe something involving the team bus and a few dozen helium balloons.

As you’re contemplating the logistics, Leah pulls out her phone, probably to text Kim that the squirrel incident has been safely contained. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“I prefer ‘misunderstood genius,’” you reply, grinning as you start jogging backwards, a skill you’ve mastered purely for moments like this.

“Sure, and I’m the Queen of England,” Leah retorts, finally cracking a smile.

“Does that make me the royal jester?” you ask, doing a little bow as you reach the training pitch.

“More like the royal pain in my-”

“Language, Leah!” you interrupt, mockingly covering your ears. “There are children present!”

“Yeah, one of them’s standing right in front of me,” Leah shoots back, but she’s laughing now, and you know you’ve won this round.

As the rest of the team regroups, you spot Kim making her way over, her expression a mixture of bemusement and something that might be resignation. You wonder how many more years you’ve shaved off her life expectancy.

“Y/N, do I even want to know?” She asks, though you suspect he already knows the answer.

“Probably not,” you admit cheerfully, shrugging like the whole thing is no big deal. “But I’m open to discussing it over lunch”

Kim sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that says she’s seriously reconsidering her life choices. “Just…try to focus on the actual training today, alright?”

“Absolutely,” you say with a solemn nod, crossing your fingers behind your back where she can’t see them.

As the team heads back to practice, you catch Beth giving you a knowing look. “What?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I’m just wondering what you’ll come up with next,” she says, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you reply, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from”

#awfc #awfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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gunwoo-bh · 6 days ago

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The Night Shift - Part 5 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: swearing, min yoongi being a cute flirty shit, teasing, reader not being used to attention is a warning because i feel that A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH. I am so excited, really, for all the love you've given this. Here's the next chapter. I also created a tag list at the end of each chapter or drabble I'll post, please do let me know if I forgot you. Send in an ask, or comment or like the chapter and I'll add you to it. I might take longer between chapter to posts as I'm figuring out where this is going considering I had no plan going into this. I hope you all enjoy! :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 5

You decided on day two of your new schedule that you are not a fan.

Yes, having a normal sleeping schedule is quite nice. You see your friends more often, which is an infinite plus. But it’s busier, which you did not like.

It's day three now, and you are cautiously optimistic that things have finally slowed down as the clock turns over to 9 p.m. With three hours left to go, you desperately try to work on your essay for your Korean language class. You have never worked a shift so busy before, and you’re positively tired. You’re staring absentmindedly at your laptop, distracted by the noise of students just outside the main area.

You begin to type away, glancing up every once in a while to make sure everything is okay as you get lost in essay writing. This is the only time you get to have some decent studying time, at least for the next few days. Eunji’s mother and much younger siblings are in town visiting, staying with you for the week, and lovely humans they are. The kids are full of energy and love cuddling with their big sister to watch movies.

Hwayoung and you have given them space for the next few days at the apartment, going out to study, but with your work schedule changing, it hasn’t been easy. It’s taking some time to adjust, and you know you will adapt, but it’s proven difficult.

You don’t know how much time passes until you’re startled by a hand appearing in front of your screen as you snap your head up at your intruder. You break out into a smile when your eyes lock with Yoongi’s. You quickly glance at what he placed in front of you, and bite your lower lip, “Ah, energy!” You grab the peeled tangerine and begin eating, “You scared me.”

You’re pouting when he leans on the desk, “Didn’t mean to, but I’ve been standing there waiting for you to notice.”

Your eyes grow wide, “You’re lying!?”

“Nope. Peeled the whole thing while you were staring at your laptop.” He licks his lips, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Your mouth is open, processing what he’s saying, “I’m sorry?”

He shrugs, “Homework?”

“Korean Language class essay.” His nose wrinkles and upper lip pulls up, making you giggle as you cover your mouth. “Not a fan?”

He shakes his head, “Nope, I was good at it, but was never a fan of it.”

You pop another piece of tangerine in your mouth, “Thank you.” You raise what’s left in your hands, and he nods in understanding. “So, you stopping by just for this or to study?”

He looks around, looking back and nodding to the remnants of the fruit in your hand, “Just that,” you look so pleased at that, “oh, and this too…” his hand pops up over the counter, and he slips his phone in front of you. What’s more surprising is that it’s open on a brand new contact page.

Is he really…?

“Huh?” Why is that the only thing that comes out of your mouth?

It must amuse him because he’s chewing the inside of his cheeks, attempting to stop a grin from growing, “Could I get your number?”

Your hands gently grab his phone, pulling it closer as you glance at him once more, and you hum while staring at the device, “Mhm.”

You enter your name and information, playfully adding the closest thing to a tangerine emoji next to your name as you hand it back, and he looks down at it. You hear your phone buzz right away, frowning while looking at him as you reach for your phone. It’s an unknown number and you can’t help the sheer happiness showing in your laugh lines when you add his number to yours.

When you look up at him, he’s peeling another tangerine while looking at you, “So, any special reason for this?”

He shrugs, “It’s better than only getting to talk here, no?”

He wants to talk to you, that’s what you take out of this. You nod, “Yeah, way better.”

He looks around and says, “You off at midnight?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m meeting with my friends nearby, but I’ll come back and walk you home.”

You want to protest his working you into his time, but he doesn’t give you a moment to do so, handing you the second tangerine. You take it, smiling as he grabs his bag and turns around to leave. You sit there, half a tangerine in one hand and another one in the other as you laugh to yourself. What is happening?

You put both fruits down and text your friends right away, sending them a photo of the tangerines.

You [9:27 PM]: You guys were right, he did show up ><

You put the device down to eat more of the tangerine, and you just manage to finish the first one when your friends respond.

Hwayoung [9:31 PM]: I told you he would. He can’t stay away for too long. (wink emoji)

Eunji [9:32 PM]: Still treating you right I see? (flirty emoji)

You [9:32 PM]: He didn’t just come by for those. He asked for my number (blushing emoji)

You see both of them type at the same time and laugh softly at how excited they are for you.

Hwayoung [9:34 PM]: Atta boy!!

Eunji [9:34 PM]: YES! Get that number! God, I’m so happy for you!!!

Hwayoung [9:34 PM]: You’ll have to tell us the whole story when you get home!! I wanna watch your face!

Eunji [9:35 PM]: Are you ridiculously happy right now?! Because I’m so happy for you!

You [9:35 PM]: I am! But you’ll also never guess what else?

Eunji [9:36 PM]: ??????

Hwayoung [9:36 PM]: Please just tell us!

You [9:37 PM]: He left, and he’s coming back to walk me home! ><

The onslaught of texts you get reacting to that makes you laugh harder, keeping your laughter as low as possible. You put your phone aside as you go back to writing your essay. You still hear it buzzing a few times before it goes quiet again.

You're back on track now. You’ve done another walkthrough of the library and put away any stray books, helped a few people along the day, and you’re now trying to make headway with your essay, finally settling in for the last two hours of your shift.

You don’t know why these last five minutes are going so slowly. The security guard has already shown up to wish you a good night. You stand up from your spot and gather your bag, and right as you’re thinking he might not show, you look up to see Yoongi on the other side of the turnstiles. You release the breath you had been holding as you meet him, exiting the library, and he’s looking at you with a soft smile.

“Good to go?”

You nod, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, and he immediately extends his hand to you, “What?”

“Gimme the bag, lemme carry it.” Out of habit, you open your mouth to protest, but he’s already grabbing it from you. You’re walking along with him as he slings your bag over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

Everything about him surprises you. He’s been so open with you and willing to be around you, even though a few weeks ago, you were essentially strangers. You watch him as he shoots someone a text, stuffing his phone in his jacket before looking over to you.

“How was work?” He’s cutely chewing on his upper lip.

“I hate it.” You make him snort with your quippy response. “I mean it, I don’t like this shift, but I guess the more reasonable sleeping hours are nice?”

He smacks his lips and smiles, “What do you hate?”

“It’s way busier, and noisier. I liked that it was boring. I got to do all my work usually and I could even walk around. I guess I got comfortable with it?” You shrug as he nods.

“And now, awful students are keeping you busy?” He’s teasing, and you can tell from his eyes.

Pouting at him, you nod, “Mhm. It sucks.”

He laughs, and it’s really the first time you get to hear his laughter. It’s higher than his speaking voice and very boyish, but very nice all the same. Enough to give you butterflies at least, and you definitely try to ignore that feeling as he nudges you with his shoulder.

“You hungry?”

Your eyes snap up to his as you both come to a stop, “Always.”

Yoongi grins while looking around, “Wanna grab food?”

There is the smallest of insecure voices inside your head telling you to decline his offer, not to bother him considering how late it is, but you’re glad that you seem to like following your heart as you nod, “What did you have in mind?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know…what do you like?”

“Fried chicken?”

He looks over to his left then back at you, “I know a place. You wanna?”

You nod, eager to eat and to spend more time with him, “Yeah.”

You both walk off campus with you following him as he confidently guides you to a small restaurant just at the beginning of the main street near the University. You frown when you realize how very little you go out to new places, because you never even knew this was here as you walk in when Yoongi opens the door for you.

It’s nice and quaint, but it smells amazing as you smile when the wonderful owner welcomes you. She sees Yoongi behind you and says, “Ah! There you are, I was beginning to wonder where you went!”

He shyly looks down, bowing and apologizing, “I’ve been busy with school and the restaurant.” She sweetly walks right over to hug him as he stands there and then she looks at you.

There’s a silent look shared between them as she personally guides the both of you over to a table and sits you down. You chuckle as she walks to the kitchen and you finally get a moment to look to Yoongi.

“You don’t just know a place. You know a place.” He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck as he slips his coat off.

“She’s uh, she’s my mom’s best friend.” He confesses.

You smile, biting your lower lip as you slip your coat off too, “That’s sweet.”

He shrugs, “She always chastises me.”

“Why?” You’re amused by the imagery.

“I don’t visit often enough. I don’t eat enough. I don’t bring my friends enough. I don’t…” he trails off, pausing like he’s considering what he’s going to say next as he takes a quick glance at you, “I don’t have a girlfriend to show off…” he grabs the water already at the table.

Your cheeks grow warm, looking over your shoulder to the kitchen as you wonder what his mom’s best friend thought when she saw you. They definitely shared a look when he briefly introduced you.

“She’s a mom, I’m assuming?” He nods. “Then, I guess those are just mom things to worry about.”

He sighs, “She’s not just a mom. She’s Namjoon’s mom.”

Your eyes grow wide as you snap your head back to where you can see her in the back, looking back to Yoongi, “Really?”

Yoongi nods, “Mhm.”

“So, you guys are really close?”

Yoongi stays silent, looking over your shoulder, and Namjoon’s mom comes to your table, placing some side dishes and two beers. She smiles at both of you and says, “Are you two talking about me?”

You mouth the air, looking to Yoongi for help, and he thankfully provides it, “She has a class with Namjoon. I was just telling her–”

“I’m his mom!” She looks so proud when she announces it too, and you soften.

Yoongi sits there as you talk to Namjoon’s mom, listening to her sharing stories of her son and Yoongi. You love just how embarrassed Yoongi gets when she tells some story about their teens as he stops her, “Wait, wait, can…can we eat and not tell every embarrassing thing Namjoon and I have done, because we’ll be here for days…”

Your eyes widen as you stare at him, biting your lip to stifle your laughter and mouthing, “Really?”

He nods, glancing back and forth, “I have to walk her home, we’re gonna eat and go, mhm?”

He and Namjoon’s mom, whose name you come to find out is Jungyoon or Mrs. Kim, are having a standoff staring context as she relents, “Fine. I’ll let you kids eat. Enjoy the food and let me know if you need anything.”

You bow to her, smiling brightly as you look at the side dishes. She returns seconds later with many different kinds of chicken for you two to have as you thank her one more time. You glance up to him and he nods at you, digging into the food.

Every bite brings a satisfying fullness to your starving stomach, smiling with every piece of chicken you eat. He reaches to open the beers but you stop him, shaking your head with a full mouth. You finish your bite, “I don’t drink. You can have it if you’d like.”

He looks back to the cooler and stands up, taking the second beer with him and he returns with a soda for you instead, “This okay?”

You nod, stunned into silence, “Mhm.”

It’s nearly 1:30 am when you both finish eating and talking.

He’s much more of a talker than you had imagined and there’s so much you’ve found out about him. Time has flown by, and soon enough you are both saying your goodbyes to Mrs. Kim who sends you off with leftovers and a warm hug.

Yoongi stands off to the side before she brings him into a hug, making you laugh at the wrinkle in his nose. You’re quickly learning he doesn’t seem to be a fan of physical affection, but that if anything, his love language seems to be acts of service. This man doesn’t stop with the smallest gestures that make your heart skip a beat. You fear you’ll have no heart left to skip if he keeps this up.

He’s back to carrying your bag, but this time he leaves you to carry the leftovers sent home with you by Mrs. Kim. You did steal the bag directly from him without giving him any thought to be fair.

You look up to him and smile, “Thank you.”

His eyebrows raise, “It wasn’t much.”

“It was, though.” He looks surprised by your soft, thankful tone. “I just appreciate it.”

You notice something about Yoongi. He really struggles with being thanked for what most would think of as sweet gestures, things that aren’t often just done with people you’ve just met. It seems to come naturally to him, despite, what some people have called, a cold appearance.

Min Yoongi is soft.

“So, do you often do this or is this new to you?” You’re teasing. You don’t actually expect him to answer.

“Do what?”

“Take girls you’ve recently met to late night fried chicken and walk them home.” You feel your heart sink in your chest when you realize just how close to your apartment the restaurant was. Or have you been so in your head that you never noticed time passing?

The silence is comfortable, the ambient noises of the streets a comfortable background noise as you watch him. His face speaks for him more than he seems to be aware of too. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you could watch him for hours probably. To watch the way his eyes process things, how they dance side to side or how quickly he’s blinking. Or the way he licks his lips, tongue sometimes poking out or how he smacks his lips together. Min Yoongi is very expressive, and his face tells a story.

And while you’re getting to slowly understand what story he might be telling, nothing prepares you for what he says next. Yoongi comes to a complete stop, his face neutral as he takes you in. He licks his lips, exhaling loudly yet again.

“No.”

You think this is it, his answer, but he continues.

“That’s specifically reserved for you.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this, and he can tell. He’s satisfied with your reaction because he tugs you by the elbow, gently tugging you to keep walking up your street. You’re quiet, processing his words. You never expected him to be this bold, and honest.

And that’s fucking hot.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You snap your head to him in mild shock, wondering if he knows you’ve compared his looks to being cat-like. You feel heat rise in your cheeks, opening and closing your mouth. The smallest whine leaves your lips and you use your free hand to feel how warm your cheek is. One quick glance to Yoongi tells you it pleases him to see you react like that.

“Stop.”

“Mhm?” He looks at you, moving to face you. “Say that again?”

“I said stop.” You’re embarrassed, trying to hide your face as he chuckles. “Oppa, stop!”

Your eyes grow wide immediately, realizing what you’ve just said. Oh no. You look up to meet his eyes, and he doesn’t look nearly as shocked as you are. No, instead, he’s smirking and trying to hide his amusement from you, but failing.

“I…I–” you start, but he chuckles, catching you off guard.

Should you be offended by that laugh?

“I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I’m sorry.” He extends his hand to your arm, gently tugging and squeezing it softly. “We’re close, let’s get you home, okay?”

You agree, following him the rest of the way as you try to tame your jittery heart. You look up to your building when you both come to a stop, shyly looking down to your feet.

“So…” your voice is small, looking up at him. “I wanted to say sorry…”

“Why?”

“Because I called you Oppa, and I know we’re nowhere near close enough…” You admit.

Yoongi takes a few steps closer to you, leaning down to look into your eyes, “Can I be honest with you?”

You meet his eyes, a kindness yet playfulness about them, “Mhm.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve called me that.”

Your world turns upside down as you frown, “Huh?”

“We were right here the last time you called me that.” He glances around to your building. “I gave you the keychain.”

“I don’t…I don’t remember that.” He smiles at that confession. “I really don’t.”

“That’s okay.” He stands tall. “I do. And I don’t mind it.”

“You don’t?”

He shakes his head, grinning as he chews on the inside of his cheek, “I like it.”

You blush even more, “Oh…”

There’s a comfortable, but emotionally charged silence between the both of you. You look at him and he seems to understand the heaviness of this moment as he slips your bag off his shoulder, “Don’t overthink it, okay? It’s late and you said you had a class in the morning.”

You nod as you grab your bag and you look at him, “Okay.”

“Promise?” He holds out his pinky to you, staring at it for a moment before returning the gesture.

“Promise.” You say as he lets go of your hand.

He smiles softly, hands in his coat as he nods to your building, “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The promise of that makes your eyes soften, smiling softly as you nod, “Goodnight, and thank you.”

He watches as you step into your apartment, every moment of the last fifteen minutes replaying in your head over and over the entire ride up to your apartment. Your feet take you into your apartment and through your routine. Leftovers are put neatly in the fridge, your coat hangs on the rack, you wash up and change before slipping under the covers of your bed.

You’re staring at the ceiling when your phone screen lights up the room, reaching for it blindly in the darkness as your eyes adjust to the light. Unlocking it and going to your messages your breath catches in your throat as you read Yoongi’s very first text to you.

Yoongi [2:13 AM]: I meant it. I like you calling me Oppa.

Here is the official tag list for this series. If I forgot anybody? Please comment or send in an ask, I will try to diligently add you! :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

#min yoongi #yoongi #bts #suga #agust d #min yoongi x f!reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x f!reader #yoongi x reader #au #university au #university au student #alternate universe #min yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fanfic #the night shift gunwoo-bh

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ktaerssoi · 1 year ago

Text

same team, different goal

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

summary: the three weeks leading up to the draft, or the three times you realize caitlin isnt all that bad.

(2k)

week one

march was coming to an end, and Iowa had made it to the elite eight. tomorrow you would play against LSU, and you were a little nervous. your nerves didn't ease up when you were practicing the night before on an empty court.

it was almost ten, but you hadn't eaten or even thought about anything but the game tomorrow until you heard someone enter the gym, and then you weren't alone.

looking up from the ground, you shot the basketball towards the net, your arm stretching out and your feet coming off of the floor for a moment, but to no avail, it hit the backboard and bounced back to you.

"you should ease up your arm, you're too tense to be playing to your full ability." you turn to see caitlin standing by the court's edge, a calculated look on her face. "clark, I really don't need your help, I just need to practice. you're not exactly helping with that by the way."

she put her hands up in defense, "Actually that was exactly what I was doing. Plus, this isn't your gym, I can come in and practice too if I want." and that's what she did. every time she threw the ball you heard a faint swish and turned to see her lazily going to retrieve the basketball. she's some freak of nature really.

"wanna run some defense real quick?" she throws the ball to you, which you catch with an annoyed look. "sure," the tone of your voice would be enough to turn anyone away normally, but caitlin was one to never quit.

you guys had been trying to block the other on and off for about an hour, caitlin having more success than not. "seriously caitlin, I don't get how you just walk in here and play so easy." you guys were over by the benches, getting some water and checking your phones.

she looks up at you, shrugging. "no I mean seriously, if I told you to stand anywhere on the court you could make it. you practice infinite hours and yet your grades almost never falter." you hadn't really realized that you were going on a rant, but you were nothing but amazed by her talent. well maybe a little jealous too.

"wow l/n, I didn't know you were that big of a fan, do you want me to sign a shirt or something?" you would usually be annoyed by a snarky statement like this, but something about the exhaustion of practicing and the smile on her face made you smile a little too.

you woke up the next morning feeling less nervous about the game. practicing with caitlin was helpful, even if you swear for the rest of your life that it wasn't. She had told you about herself, in between breaks you guys would talk about what it was like playing basketball growing up.

she was easy to talk to.

you had been warming up for a little, talking to kate and trying to relax, like caitlin said. by half, both teams were tied at 45, and you were trying not to stress. you knew that you had a good team, and you knew that even if we were to fail it wouldn't be the end of the world.

you had a short water break at half, and caitlin came up to you, leaning down and whispering in your ear. "hey just relax, we got this, just get out of your head." you nodded, looking up and her. kate had given you guys an odd look, along with the rest of the team.

once the third quarter started, you were trying to guard angel resse. she was a difficult player to block, but you had managed to stop a few points and by the end of the third quarter Iowa was up by 11.

you could tell caitlin wasn't happy that we were so close to the end of the game and we barely had a lead. "c, just play like you did last night, don't think just play. you're not the best at thinking anyway." she rolled her eyes at your comment but smiled nonetheless.

"That's not what you said last night," she said as the whistle for the fourth quarter blew. your cheeks had turned a light shade of pink, one that you hoped you could play off as a tough game. you hadn't been put in for the fourth quarter coach opting to put someone else in and give you a break.

"since when have you and caitlin been friends?" you turn to see jada, confusion written on her face. "um, we've always been friends, just, not like good friends." you say, taking a sip of your water. "not "good friends?" you guys fight like there's no tomorrow. something happened and I and kate will find out." you shake your head, a smile on your face as you picture her and kate in old-timey investigater outfits.

"you have fun with that."

the game ends quickly after that, Iowa winning by 7 points. you smiled as you saw the team celebrate on the court, still holding good sportsmanship to LSU (for the most part..), you walked by the other team, high-fiving and telling resse that she's a tough player to block. you guys chat for a little before you say goodbye and walk into the locker room.

"what were you talking to resse about?" you hear caitlin before you see her, but when you do see her she's in the middle of changing out of her jersey into some random shirt. "nothing really, I was just telling her that she played well." you shrugged, walking over to your bag to get changed as well, trying not to stare at anyone.

"yeah, she played well I guess, we still won though." caitlin grabbed her bag in a huff, seeming to be a tad annoyed. "if I didn't know any better I would say you're mad I talked to her," you mumbled, but caitlin still heard.

"I'm not mad I just don't get why you don't treat our team like that, I mean you didn't congratulate any of us and we were the ones who won." caitlin's voice was raised now, you weren't sure where this was coming from but it ticked you off nonetheless.

"fine, you need some praise? good fucking job caitlin, our very own lord and savior." you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag, and walking out to the bus to head back to campus. sitting down in the seat next to kate you were silent, not wanting to talk to anyone.

one thing though was that you most definitely hated caitlin clark.

you had gotten to Cleveland earlier that day, you had talked to the UConn team, since you used to play for them it was fun to chat with old teammates and meet the new players. you knew that caitlin and paige were friends, they used to play together and were a great duo. That's why you weren't surprised when she came over and started making her presence known, shutting down the conversation you were having with paige.

"yeah and then she had the audacity-" you were cut off by caitlin, smiling as she walked over and hugged paige. "hey bueckers, you better be ready to lose tomorrow." you glared at her not so subtly, sighing. "clark I was kind of in the middle of talking." she looked down at you, rolling her eyes. "yeah because you always have to talk to the opponents?"

paige had turned away at that point, talking to ice because she knew it was bound to be awkward if she continued standing there. "what is your problem? just because I didn't feed your ego one time im a problem? you need to get a grip." her jaw tightened at your words, you hadn't spoken loud, not wanting to draw too much attention to you guys.

"me? I'm not the one with the issues, you just seem to hate me for no reason at all. seriously, ever since you transferred to Iowa I've been trying to be your friend but you've taken everything I've done as an attack on you. me getting you dinner was not meant to send you into an allergic reaction and get you out of a game!" she hadn't taken into consideration that other people were around and she was talking at a voice level far too loud for the small area you were in.

you had dragged her to a corner, deciding it would be the easiest way to defuse the situation. "okay I'm sorry, you're just good at everything, and it's kind of hard to be friends with someone like that. it makes me feel like I have to prove I'm better which usually doesn't go over well. also, it wasn't even about the allergic reaction I just don't know why you got me dinner. I was fine by myself." caitlin rolls her eyes at your words but nods regardless.

you guys had won the game against UConn the next day, and you and caitlin finally working well together and not arguing throughout the game. there was a sort of understanding between the two of you guys now.

week two

you guys had ulitamtily lost the game against NC state, it was close and you guys had played hard. caitlin was anything but happy by the end of it, and not even kate or gabbie could fix it.

"clark, like you said, its not the end of the world. there will always be another game." you had said it to not only help her, but yourself. you weren't exactly pleased with the outcome of the game, none of team had been.

for caitlin it was different, she was going to the draft next week and losimg her lat college game wasn't something she could live with. but she would have to.

even though you hadn't really meant to, you had cheered caitlin up. even if it was only a little bit, her mood had improved and she was able to talk to the team with out an undertone of anger. the ride home wasn't the best trip of your life but you guys had managed to make the best of it for everyone sake.

seeing caitlin sit quietly on the bus made you start thinking about what it wold be like on the team with out her next year. with out her it would be so different, not to mention you were losing a bunch of other great players. but with out caitlin who would you compete with? she wasn't just a teammate, she was a friend, whether you guys were fighting or not you would miss her. plus she was nice to look at.

half way through the trip back to campus you guys had stopped to stretch your legs. when you got back on, you sat next to caitlin before she could put her feet up and block the seat.

"hey c," you smiled at her, and though she didn't show it you could tell that she was okay with you being there. you had looked over at what she was doing on her phone and you saw she was looking at her possible outfits for the draft.

"i like that one." you had pointed to your favorite of the options, a sparkly cropped top with a white button down and a skirt. it would look good on her.

she nodded, and quickly sent a text to her stylist that that was the one she wanted to wear. you had just picked out caitlin clarks wnba draft night outfit.

"i don't know what im going to do next year. i mean, the wnba is going to be great but seriously this team is to good to not miss." caitlin was picking at her fingernails, a bad habit of hers. "even though im on it?" you laughed a little, you knew she hadn't always liked you.

"no i think especially because you're on it. you've really been my number one compeition and with you gone i don't know who's going to keep my ego in check." she smiles at you, and you shake your head. "trust me clark, someone is going to get fed up and humble you."

something about the way she smiled the rest of the way home made you feel good. you really were going to miss her.

week three

it was draft night, and you had been invited along with some other team members to attend for caitlin. she and everyone looked so good, and the outfit you had chosen definitely distracted some people. (you included)

the draft was about to start and caitlin had been standing with you, kate, gabbie, and jada for a while before she finally had to leave. your leg was bouncing with anticipation when the commissioner came on stage with the first pick, but instantly cheers erupted from your group and many others in the room.

you were surprised when caitlin didn't instantly get up and head to the commissioner, instead, she hugged her family, stepped down off the stage to hug you first, and then, kate, jada, and gabbie, and then finally went to the commissioner. that's going to be in an edit.

the night went smoothly after that, you were getting texts from her often, and one of the commentators had pointed out that you both both on your phones. when the cameras panned over to her and you, the crowd cheered and you both waved. you felt your phone buzz a few seconds later with a text from caitlin, "they're watching us 😉" the cameras were still on you, so you flipped your phone showing the camera her message.

later that night, at the after party you were talking with Nika when caitlin had excused you both and you walked over to some corner. "hey, you know I was tal-" you were cut off by caitlin's lips on yours. it took you a moment but you kissed back.

what the fuck was happening.

she pulled away after a second and you looked at her stunned, confusion evident on your face. "um, so like why did you do that?"

her face guys pink, and she looks confused as well. "I, um, i don't know why i did that. i just really wanted to kiss you." you nodded at her admittion, yet still confused.

"i think i've liked you since you transferred. i mean, i just like, i think that's why I've always competed with you, i just wanted to show off. It's why i got mad the other day, sorry about that by the way-" she was the one to get cut off this time as you kissed her again.

pulling away after a few seconds you smiled up at her, taking in your high difference for what seemed like the first time. "you're not all too bad either clark." you gave her one more peck and your smile widened even more if possible. "congrats on getting drafted by the way. I'll have to get you to sign a jersey for me."

CHAT I HATE THIS SO MUCH SOME ONE END ME. no like all jokes aside this is actual dookie. but i finally finished this little side blurb thing so yay!! making brownies rn i will update you on them! thats all chat, once again sos. - kate

#wcbb #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #paige #kate martin #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #i love her sm

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soulanine · 23 days ago

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auauagahhhgh im so invested in your asl robot au thing! please please pleaaasseeeee tell us more about it!!!!

it hasn’t left my brain and ive been rambling about it with friends, so i have some notes about it down lol !!!

androids are generally more common. this got a teensy bit long so i’ll put a read more ⬇️

ace has a year with sabo while luffy has a little less than that by the time sabo’s dad comes around. luffy, being a companion model, has an easier time learning emotions than ace does, who, unlike luffy, doesn’t even have the ability to cry. the only ones who can cry are companions

asl does not get separated here (because im attached to them) !!! sabo still gets taken away—and it’s so weird going back home because there’s android servants alongside human ones, which he thinks is stupid, and having to witness the way they’re hit, insulted, or generally thrown aside without ever reacting because he’s so used to being with ace and luffy—but here, he doesn’t get the chance to set sail because ace and luffy come after him

being robots, they’re built to be assigned to something or someone. when sabo asked ace to accompany him, he essentially assigned himself to ace. when they turned on luffy and let him tag along, the same thing happened. even before gaining their humanity, luffy and ace would stick by sabo’s side constantly. by the outlook takes sabo back, they’re leagues more human than they used to be, which also means they’re leagues more tied to sabo since they’re no longer attached to him by duty, but by their bond.

one consequence of this, though, is that ace and luffy don’t care what happens to their bodies. they’re entirely capable of plowing through their enemies until they get to sabo because swords or a gunshot wound or a lost limb aren’t felt, so that’s what they do. not to mention they’re incredibly sturdy, like i said in the first note, so they’re relentless in getting him back.

sabo is HORRIFIED when they manage to escape into the forest. it’s so difficult getting them fixed when they’re damaged and ace and luffy know it, yet here they are; bodies battered and abused, but all they can talk about is how glad they are they managed to get sabo back. it makes him realize that these two inhuman beings, who he had to teach how to feel emotion, are infinitely more loving and caring than his human parents ever were.

they’re never going to be able to finf their adult bodied on dawn, so as sabo grows up, ace and luffy stay the same. it doesn’t bother them much (ace is only a little bitter), but sabo makes it his goal to find the right bodies for them

(“you know how hard that’s going to be, right?” ace asks once they’ve set out, with the body of a ten-year-old and the experience of someone seven years older. sabo tells him to shut up.)

#i also have info on some of the other straw hats #if anyone wants that in a separate post. lol #soul spouts #one piece #asl brothers #android au

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shivadh · 9 months ago

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Also also, how much of the language do you have figured out at this point? I keep on wishing it was something I could learn, because tavat as a concept has me in a chokehold. Do you only have what you've used, or is there a secret word document with a dictionary and grammar rules being put together?

I've got a little tiny bit of grammar and some vocabulary, but that's about it, and the vocab is basically split between "made it up because it sounds fun" and "nicked it off nearby countries". Like Naran Juice Box Company is a Shivadh company, and they primarily used to sell orange juice so they use the Shivadh word for orange, "Naran", which has an obvious relationship to the Spanish word "Naranja". The football team takes after the "giallorossi" (yellow-reds) of Roma and call themselves the "Levenaran" (blue-oranges) but Leve is just made up because it fit well -- and of course if you are a member of the team you don't just support the levenaran, you are considered "Levenaranh".

Tavat was likewise made up to sound dramatic. :D At least as far as I recall. I wrote most of Infinite Jes on my phone while traveling, across about three weeks, and usually after going to bed, so my memories of composing it are remarkably hazy.

I will eventually actually have a public webpage with all the Shivadh language stuff on it, though. I'm building a wiki for the books which is mostly just needed by me so I'm not constantly looking up shit, and one page will be what is canonical about the Shivadh language.

I know some things; the big one is that the language uses suffixes frequently, so you'd modify a word by appending a suffix rather than using an adjective. The -h on the end of Shivadh to indicate nationality isn't used super commonly but it's meant to indicate origin, like it's basically "of" but where "of" denotes being from somewhere ("I am of Shivadlakia" but not "It's full of stars"). I just recently included -ic in the last short story as a diminutive, so when Michaelis says "tavatic" he's calling his grandson a sweet little prince. He wouldn't use "tavatic" for Joan or Noah, they're too old; when he calls Joan "mio Ioannina" he's speaking Italian, and using a diminutive that's more appropriate to her age.

In the football novel, the protagonist Paolo is often called Paodet, which is a nickname Gerald made up for him when they were younger. Paolo didn't get a ton of Shivadh language because he left the country for football reasons fairly young, but he knows -det means "beautiful" so he's Beautiful Paul, basically. What he's not really cognizant of for a while is that -det has a specific connotation of a thing, so he's beautiful like a statue, not like a person, because he was always a little standoffish.

And of course "Dy" is boat, which gets the general intensifier -chev added to make sure it's the boatiest. Which is also how we get "Ejechev", the equivalent of the Italian "Daje" or the English "Go team!"

But yeah, most of it's just nouns, so I'll have a list up eventually. :D I'm about a third of the way done with the wiki -- all the notes have been taken and sorted into various files, but now I need to turn "a bunch of copypasta notes from the books" into cohesive profile pages on, say, Shivadh culture, or Gerald Dux Shivadlakia, or the RSBC, or Institut Alpin. It's not difficult, just time consuming.

#research #shivadh culture #spiritwildheartofachild

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mangocurist · 2 months ago

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toxic codependent yaoi i love you toxic codependent yaoi save me

this is based off of @pancake-x2's idea of the uu!director being wifrot (as a unit)... its soooo good im like. frothing at the mouth thinking about it. ARGHH pulls my hair out in clumps I need them to Kill each Other and Make Out about it

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـــــــــﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩـــــﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩـــــﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـــﮩ

If there was any one thing that someone needed to know about Parrot, Wifies would tell them this: he is a difficult man to keep chained down.

Now, don’t get him wrong— Wifies doesn’t enjoy having to force his partner in crime to stay put in one place— it’s clear that Parrot wants to stretch his wings and explore the server, fool around with the pawns they’ve taken such great lengths to acquire and just generally find the workings of this server and break it apart at its seams.

It’s simply his nature as a free spirit, and Wifies understands that he must feel restrained, cooped up in this sterile lab with nothing for company but himself and the countless experiments Wifies checks on daily.

Even besides his natural need to explore, Unstable is a much different place from Parrot’s home server of Lifesteal, and Wifies can’t imagine what going from a place like Lifesteal, where death is not only not permanent but in fact infinitely avoidable so long as you have the smarts to evade and steal from others, to Unstable, where everyone watches their backs with caution knowing that the moment they turn around they risk never moving again would be like.

To Wifies, it’s much the same as having brought a wild animal into a supervised environment: unless they are broken and beaten down, it is difficult to ever fully rid of their innate desire for freedom.

An animal’s first instinct, when trapped in a difficult situation, is to flee.

But while he needs Parrot’s… wild nature, so to say, present to fully carry out their purpose on this server, Wifies cannot possibly risk setting Parrot free to wreak havoc on Unstable. It would simply be too large a risk, and he— they, the Director— does not take risks. Not unless they know they can win.

Which they can, as long as Parrot does not leave the cage Wifies has placed him in.

Parrot, for his part, knows this, and he complies well. Wifies is honestly impressed at the restraint Parrot shows— his partner's patience is certainly not mirrored in his doppelganger, a little bird too curious for its own good. Then again, maybe it is one of those differences that come from the man’s time spent on Lifesteal that allow him to keep his cool where the other Parrot would have leapt ahead, adrenaline rushing through his blood and rendering his critical thinking useless.

His willingness to wait for the perfect moment to strike was what made him such a good predator on Lifesteal, and here… it made him the perfect second half for the Director's scheme.

Wifies only hopes that he doesn't see a day where that shrewd planning decides to weave its own web to trap him in.

“You know, he's not taking your clone's death very well.” A voice comes from behind him, before the familiar feeling of two large wings come to drape on Wifies’ shoulders, Parrot leaning over him to look up at the large split-screen monitor. “Did you know? Ash told me that he hallucinated the guy. Almost makes you feel bad for them, doesn't it?”

“If this is you trying to convince me to let you out to further toy with them, you should rethink it. We’re almost at the finish line— what will this do for us but cause more unnecessary problems?”

Parrot rolls his eyes, but sits down by Wifies’ side anyway, resigned to watching Wifies pick through the live footage of server members. As a reward, Wifies’ hand comes up to prune through the man’s feathers, dragging them down between the clumps of half-plucked molt and dust from god-knows-where, considering he's been cooped up in the lab for his entire time on the server. And they're in the End right now— Wifies doesn't even want to consider what exactly Parrot could have dirtied himself with.

“Can you go a little high– uh, yeah, that’s good,” Parrot hums as he leans back into Wifies’ touch, avian traits on full display as he calms down.

Wifies is glad for it. It’s a show of trust, something he needs from Parrot if they are to work through this together. And— this part is admittedly perhaps a bit of his own selfish desire, too– but he enjoys having the other man around. At least, he likes Parrot's company over Ashswag’s, or ItzRealMe— or even the latest lineup in their little assassin rotation, though Wifies is being honest when he admits that Cube may be the most tolerable they've yet to contact.

Speaking of.

“Have you met with Cube yet?” Parrot is usually the one to make the trip around to their contacts, on account of the fact that he can fight and prepare for traps much better than Wifies can. It is the most logical solution Wifies can think of: Parrot needs to get out, and he is intimately familiar with treachery and bloodshed— far more so than the scientist who keeps himself locked up all day surrounded with machines and only nearly organic clones. If anyone gets the wrong idea, Parrot is the one who will be able to fend them off.

He held the title of admin for four years, after all. That was as good a reason as any to prove his ability.

“Yeah. He agreed— because he had to, mostly, but I think he thought it'd be funny to fuck with Parrot 2.” Parrot hums at a scratch to his ear-wings, making the smaller appendages flap with excitement. “He's apparently decided that he'll trap their base to kill the guy.”

Wifies twists his head to look at the content avian, hand pausing momentarily in its ministrations. Parrot frowns, but he doesn’t say anything. “Do you think that'll be enough?”

“Hell no,” Parrot scoffs. “I'm not stupid. No matter which ‘me’ is being trapped, I'll find my way out eventually. Cube is good, but not good enough.”

“It's unfortunate that most of these assassins only focus on one core specialty,” Wifies agrees. “I’d like if we could find one that would be able to account for all their weaknesses at once, but that’s practically impossible to come by.”

“You could just make one yourself,” Parrot suggests, and while Wifies gives the suggestion some consideration, he waves it away.

“I don’t have the ability to do that just yet. I mean… look at my current creation,” he scoffs as the screen shifts to a replay of his clone and Parrot’s doppelganger’s odyssey. “He’s as dumb as a brick. Doesn’t understand anything besides how to dog the footsteps of his betters. I sometimes wonder if I made a mutt instead of a human. Surely there were better options for Kenadian to introduce sentience to?”

“You’re way too hard on him. Honestly, I think I prefer your clone over mine. Actually— no, I know I prefer your clone over mine.” Parrot’s frown grows deeper as he witnesses the way his doppelganger addresses the clone, posture growing more and more rigid and disturbed as his foot starts to tap incessantly against the floor. Wifies runs his hand through his wings again, and when that doesn’t work, he moves to start braiding Parrot’s hair with one hand. The action manages to calm him, but it probably won’t last for too long if they focus on his mirror image.

Wifies does understand, much as he wishes he doesn’t. “Well, there is no bigger critic than the artist themselves.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Parrot sighs, wings coming up to drape over Wifies’ shoulders again as he rests his chin on Wifies’ head. “Oh, we should go and take a look at how they’re doing now. I mean. How he’s doing. Sorry. Almost forgot that there’s only one exception now— in your words, of course.”

“You’re sounding rather vindictive for a man who prefers loyalty over action.”

“I just hate that version of me. It’s not that I don’t understand what he’s doing, I just don’t like that he’s doing it with my face.”

Wifies shakes his head, amused. With the click of a button, Parrot appears— the other one, the one with half-pruned wings by a clone who shouldn't have lived long enough to assist him and yin-yang symbols carved into his heart, inextricably connected to his very being— staring at the white wall of Leowook’s newest base, eyes red with what could be insomnia but is more likely the product of his unfortunate attachment to one of Wifies’ failed products.

“Is there a reason you wanted to check up on him? He isn’t doing much,” Wifies points out, eyes drifting over to study Parrot’s face. There’s dust from whatever he was doing before scattered on his face as well, and he scoots over just slightly to rub the spots of dust off the man’s face, making Parrot’s wings flutter slightly.

“I wanted to suggest something.”

Wifies turns to look at Parrot, frowning. “If you say—”

“I won’t leave.” Parrot crosses his arms. “I know how you get about seeing this whole thing come to an end, and I’m not going to ruin it just because I want to get out. Which— yeah, okay, I do, you know I do, but I’m not going to do it right now because we need to see this to the end together.”

Wifies turns to study the man. His wings have retracted, lying flat and tense on his back. His eyes are trained on Wifies’ own, staring as if waiting for Wifies’ approval. It’s an unsettlingly intense stare, one that he doesn’t associate with Parrot often— unless he’s looking to get something out of someone.

Even now, it is difficult to trust that Parrot believes what he is saying.

In a life or death situation, the animal will choose self-preservation over aiding its companion.

Still. He needs him. Wifies needs Parrot, and whether that will spell the downfall of the Director is something that he will ignore for the time being, if only to allow himself to indulge in an illusion for a little while longer.

If he needs to clip his bird’s wings, then so be it.

“...Go on, then.” Wifies says after a beat of time passes. “What is it?”

A smile curls on the edge of Parrot’s mouth.

“I don’t think he knows to just what extent we’re willing to go. Why don’t we show him how far the limit really is?”

#📖 oz writes #wifrot #parrotx2 #wifies #evilfies #unstable universe #tumblr fics #sorry i always end off my writing with corny ass lines i cant help it its the cornball in me

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