#“opt out” no longer looks like a word

[eli0004]

Rain, Rain

Sub!Levi x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: not much of a plot, just messing around with Levi in an office while it’s storming outside.

Warnings: hand job, fist-fucking, praise, very slight pain pain play, love confessions, very soft sappy shit

A/N: This was finished way sooner than i thought it would be, i got carried away 😭 also i couldn’t think of a title that wasn’t cringe, please ignore how cliche that one is.

Before everything went to shit, this kind of rain was the biggest inconvenience for the people within the walls. Closing down market stalls, turning the grass all muddy and the sky bleak and grey. You could almost hear it, the grumbling and moaning on the streets about when this dreadful weather would pass. Nowadays, however, no one bats an eye.

You’d never minded the rain, and truthfully, neither did Levi. It’s good weather for reading indoors, or lulling you both to sleep on nights when your mind is particularly active. Often, the two of you find yourselves sitting by the window, watching the storm clouds rolling in and lighting flashing, commentating to one another every now and again when a particularly loud rumble of thunder cracks through the silence. And the rain is especially lovely when it allows you to tangle up together after particularly difficult expeditions, soft touching and gentle kisses to the sound of the droplets drumming on the window panes.

Almost as if thinking of him summoned him to your door, Levi emerges with two steaming cups, placing one on the desk in front of you.

“It’s really coming down out there.” He gestures towards the window, bringing the cup to his nose and softly inhaling the fragrant aroma before taking a sip.

“It is, isn’t it. I wonder how much longer it’ll go on for.” You respond, glancing down at the black tea in front of you. “Have you got a new one?” You ask. He nods once.

“New shipment, i like this one more than the last one i got. It was dreadfully weak.”

You chuckle softly, taking a sip and nodding. “It is stronger, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again, and you notice how he has subtly inched himself closer to you.

“The rain made me think of you this morning. I wish we could’ve just taken the day off.”

He doesn’t look away from the window, but you know him well enough by now to know that there is subliminal meaning behind his words. Levi has been missing you.

“I’m glad you’re here now, let’s spend some time together, forget about today.” You reach out to beckon him closer. He willfully obeys, placing a hand on the arm of your chair and leaning down to kiss you. But you pull him in closer, and he rests his weight on his knees, placing them on either side of you. Cupping his cheek gently, you brush a thumb over his lip, leaning in once more.

Your lips meet his, ever so softly, and Levi feels like he’s floating. Nimble fingers find their way, trembling slightly, to the roots of your hair as he allows himself to melt into you completely. Your arms snake around the curve of his lower spine, pulling him down so that he is no longer hovering above you, but now sitting firmly on your lap, knees straddling your thighs. At this, he lets out a soft whimper, but it’s nearly inaudible- disappearing where your lips connect.

Levi is no stranger to this, the two of you have engaged in this sort of heavy kissing in the dark many times, but at this moment he feels strangely vulnerable. Desperation is slowly chipping away at his resolve, and suddenly he’s thinking about how it feels- having you touch more of him, peeling off his clothes. He can almost feel the warmth of your palms against his bare skin. It’s in that moment that he realizes he wants all those things. Levi wants you.

You take notice in this shift in energy, if not by the eagerness with which he’s kissing you, needy and open mouthed, then by the hardness of his cock pressing into your stomach, now noticeable through his uniform pants. You don’t push, opting to see just how far he takes things on his own initiative.

You bring one hand up to the back of his head, affectionately tugging at the thick, inky-black strands of hair. His grip on your own hair tightens at this, and he groans softly against your lips, breaking the kiss only for a moment before returning again with three times the desperation. Returning your hand to his waist, you attempt to pull him impossibly closer. Close is not enough.

Levi gasps, breathing air straight from your lungs as the motion of your adjustments sends him slightly forward, his erection pressing deliciously against your lower stomach. The feeling sends his mind reeling, and he experimentally rolls his hips forward again in attempts to replicate the feeling. At the sight of him unraveling before you, so sensitive to every touch, you raise a brow, smirking against his lips.

“You ok, Levi?” You whisper, eyes meeting his in the darkness for only a moment before he casts them downward again. He hesitates, as if he’s about to make a decision that will change the course of his entire life, hands dropping from your hair and down to his lap.

“Yeah, i’m fine. Do you think…tonight would be a good night to…y’know…” he feels his cheeks burn, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on the chair-cushion as he awaits your response. You grin softly, rubbing your palms up and down his thick thighs, softly kneading at them.

“I’m not sure i do, what is it you’re asking for?”

“Tch…you do know, I’m being serious.” He scolds you, rolling his eyes. “I want to.”

Your eyes finally meet his as he absentmindedly leans in a bit closer, and you take notice of newfound vulnerability that shines through them. His gaze is soft and longing- a stark contrast to his usual laser-focused expression- and you bring a hand up to trace a finger, softly over the wrinkles it’s left behind. Over the crease between his brows, the crows feet by his eyes, the dark bags beneath them from his many nights of exhaustion. He leans into your touch, and you speak through the silence.

“I love you.”

Levi is unable to stop the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he crashes them against yours once again before you can comment on it. His kisses are heated, almost aggressive, and for a split second you’re taken aback by it, closing your eyes and letting your grip on his thighs loosen.

His hands find your shoulders, sliding up your neck, cupping your cheeks gently before re-tangling his fingers into your hair. You hum softly against his lips, and he slips his tongue into your mouth just enough to tease. Unsatisfied, you allow one arm to pull him snugly against you again, bringing your other to grip the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and forcing your tongue past his lips. He moans softly at this, exhaling through his nose.

Levi grinds himself forward against your stomach once again, languidly rolling his hips and pressing his dick firmly against your abdomen. By now, your mind is reeling with the thought of having him do this without those god forsaken pants to get in the way. Breaking the kiss, you look down, snapping open the buckle of his belt and nearly tearing the zipper of his pants down. He lifts himself up off your lap to shimmy out of them, tearing off his shirt in the process, as you peel off your own shirt.

Once restrictive fabric is discarded, Levi re-positions himself on top of you, shivering slightly as the air nips at his bare skin. You don’t notice the chill, already busy pressing open mouthed kisses to his bare shoulders, over his collar bone, the skin of his neck. Levi tilts his head back ever so slightly, arching his back as you trail your fingers, feather-light, down his spine. How desperately you want to leave marks there on the column of his throat, not as an act of possession, but to serve as a reminder of this moment for you to look back on tomorrow morning when the two of you must get up and dressed before sunrise. To watch him anxiously adjust his collar, making sure to hide the evidence from any wandering eyes.

Breaking away from him, you drop your gaze down to observe the wet spot seeping through the front of his underwear. You take a minute to admire the product of your ministrations, before bringing a finger to trace the dampness there. He gasps, head falling forward and bangs flopping over his eyes.

“Don’t tease, damn it…please” he breathes, shakily against your ear. “I want you.”

“I can tell.” You chuckle. Deciding against waiting any longer, you hook your index finger into the waistband of his underwear, pulling it forward to let his cock spring up against his lower belly, smearing that slick wetness below his navel, before letting go and watching it snap against his length like a rubber band. He jumps, surprised at the sting. “Hah…ouch!”

“I want these off too.”

He lifts once again to kick off the final layer, leaving him fully exposed, returning to you to present himself at your mercy. His tongue is poking through his lips as he watches you curiously, as if to try and predict your next course of action.

You place a hand on his hip, smoothing a thumb over the bone and gazing up at him lovingly. Your other hand finds its way to his stomach, open palm and fingers splayed, running it all the way up to his chest and up to his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you.

“You’re so beautiful, every inch of you, I’m enamored by it all. You know that?” He rolls his eyes, and you wrap your other hand around the base of his cock, squeezing slightly.

“Hnn..ah!” He chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You know that, Levi?” He nods, frantically, and you’re unsure if he even remembers what you’re asking, his body is melting into you, hunching forward. Chuckling softly, you begin to slowly slide your hand up and down, languidly. Thumb circling his tip every so often, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft.

Levi lets his head fall against your shoulder, huffing against your neck, his rib cage expanding and contracting with every breath. You trace over his chest, over his peaked nipple, pinching and rolling it gently between your thumb and forefinger as you continue to stroke him off, and his breath catches in his throat.

“F-fuck~” he whimpers out, jaw slackening as you speed up your pace and tighten your grip. His hips lurch forward and his hands are searching for something to hold onto, settling on gripping the back of your chair with white knuckles, snaking his other arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him, almost in a hug. You can feel his abdominal muscles beginning to tense, and you slow your pace, but Levi isn’t willing to wait any longer. His hand falls from the back of your chair to grab onto your wrist.

Holding it steady, he begins thrusting his hips forward, fucking your hand like it’s sheer instinct. Any other time, you’d stop him, but seeing him so fucked out and desperately humping into your closed fist is what prevents you from doing so. This isn’t something you see often.

Levi is dangerously close, moaning against your ear long and drawn out. Holding him close, you press your mouth against his ear and whisper “good boy, so good. You need to cum? Let go for me, ok?”

His eyes roll back, lids fluttering closed as he freezes, holding his breath for a second as his hips stutter “ah-ah oh god, fuck, i love you, i love you, i love you” he rasps out, gushing thick, creamy ropes over your fist, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as it tears through him. You smile softly at his confession and it’s timing, allowing him to guide your fist over his length to milk himself of any last drops.

And as his breathing slowly returns to normal, his tired body slumps against your own. The rain outside has begun to die down, now only a soft drizzle. You hold him there, as long as he needs, tracing shapes over the skin of his bare back. In the end though, it’s Levi who breaks the silence, whispering against your skin

“let’s get to bed, we can…uh…spend more time together there.”

[adventuringblind]

Chin Up, Princess (2k words)

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Ghoulverse Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Jos oversteps and causes a whole lot of hurt for Max and his mate, he takes things into his own hands and ends up resorting to extreme measures in order to save his lover. (Background Landoscar, Charlos, and Sewis)

Warnings: Mind control, talks of eating people and mentions of gore but nothing explicit, ghoul on ghoul violence, burning of a character, major character death (not a good guy tho), ED but like... also not an ED, soulbonds

Notes: Ironically the most tame ghoulverse fic I've done thus far. Thank you to🏍️for the amazing idea!!

Side Note: Feed my praise kink please?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It’s raining again. The kind of rain Monaco doesn’t see often. The torrential downpour that keeps everyone hidden away inside to keep warm. 

She watches the water droplets race down the window, wondering which one will hit the edge first. It’s not productive, but she needs something to distract her from the ache in her bones. The hunger pains have gotten progressively worse over the last three weeks. Still, she’s finding ways to cope. She has to manage; the pain is what’s keeping her sane. 

 It’s nice being home and hidden behind the water covered window. It means she’s free to drop the human look. All horns and tail, long tongue and sharp teeth, dark eyes and pointed ears. It’s natural - or it used to be. 

It doesn’t quite feel like her anymore. Like somehow everything that had once been a part of her is now irritating. Her horns are heavy and her tail refuses to be anywhere but the ground. All because his words sit in her head and bounce around the cavity in her chest. 

He changed her. 

~~~♡~~~

A month ago, she ran into Jos in the paddock. Even though she doesn’t like the guy, he’s still technically her king - and Max’s dad - so her father in law in a way. Max had mated with her (a heavenly feeling) but had done so without the consent of his father. 

Jos doesn’t like her one bit. Which she doesn’t care about. If Max is the prince of the demons and set to take up leadership at some point, that makes her a princess. They both dislike each other but in the essence of keeping things civil, she makes it work. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here today!” She nodded her head to show respect. Opting for that instead of bowing to this man in broad daylight. 

“I wish I hadn’t seen you at all!” Well - fuck you too - she supposes. She’d fallen into step beside him as they made their way to the Redbull garage. 

She nearly crashes into him when he stops abruptly. He grabs hold of her bicep and drags her down some alleyway between buildings. She goes with compliance, hell only knows what this man can and will do to her. 

Her back hits the wall with a disorienting force. “You’re not enough for us.” 

“I think you mean for you.” 

Jos hisses close enough to her face that she can feel his saliva hitting her. “The council decided you’re not one of us-'' He grabs her chin and she watches as his eyes fade to that deep dark color that usually means something bad is about to happen.

“You will not eat. You are not one of us. Am I clear?” 

She snaps at him. Her attempt at fighting his hold is futile. Not when the damn demon king is trying to hypnotize her. “No!” 

He clamps a hand over her mouth and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. The open flame hovers just above the healed over scar on her clavicle. She shakes, desperate to get away from the heat. “You will not eat. You are not a ghoul. You are not one of us.”

It’s a hypnotic tone that seeps through her ears and floods her veins. The heat of the flame no longer her one weakness as her mind submits itself to the will of her king. 

~~~♡~~~

Her jaw snapped shut. Her vocal chords refused to work. Her throat constricts around liquids. Her teeth become glued to each other each time she tries to bite down into something of nutrients. 

A month of this torture and she can feel herself getting progressively more ravenous. Slowly they’ve exhausted all of their options. No matter how desperately she tries, she can’t get any substance into her. 

Max’s reflection appears in the window. A frown etched upon lips. It doesn’t suit him; Max was made to smile. She likes being the one to cause it. These days it feels like all he’s doing is trying to ease her slow and painful death. 

He sits opposite of her and heaves out a gust of warm air on the window. His pointer finger paints a simple picture of a stick figure. It’s - objectively - a terrible drawing, but it serves its purpose and makes her laugh. 

“I’m scared, Max.”

“I know, schat.” 

They continue to stare out the window. The bond doing the talking for them, passing their emotions back and forth. He can feel her pain and she can feel his inner rage. 

Humans don’t understand. Maybe they never will. They fear those who are different. Think this way and do this thing or you're a monster. Certainly not all of them. Lando and Charles are prime examples of this. Still - surviving amongst them gets harder each day. 

“I know what you want to do.” She turns towards him. Unbidden in the comfort of their own home. His tail flicks in uncertainty. A habit he picked up from Sebastian. “I don’t want you to regret it.” 

“It’s inevitable. Just earlier than planned.” He won’t meet her gaze. “I can’t watch you suffer when I can stop it.” 

“You have always been the chivalrous type.”

Max slides closer to her. His thumb comes to the underside of her chin and pushes it upward. Her eyes have nowhere else to go, forced to get lost in his. A never-ending sea of endless dark that she’d willingly drown in. 

“Chin up, love. There is going to be a crown on your head soon. I’d hate to see it hit the ground.”

~~~♡~~~

She hates not being able to go inside. She understands why she can’t though. She already has the weight of one hypnosis spell weighing her down; she’s more susceptible to another. 

Still, waiting is nerve wracking. The sound of familiar roars fill her ears. Occasionally wincing when she feels Max’s pain. Mild compared to what it is for him. 

Lando and Charles are sitting on the ground with her. Their mates are inside with Max, along with Lewis and Sebastian. She attempts to hold close to the bonds of their tribe. They’ve been planning this for the last couple of weeks. Every hole is plastered with flexi tape. 

“Relax, chéri. They are fine.” 

She won’t open her mouth to mutter a thanks. Not when she’s already salivating and can smell exactly where their pulse points are. Not when she can hear the steady rhythm of their hearts. 

No, she can’t eat, but she’d also rather not risk it. 

“Do we have to bow to you after this whole ordeal is over?” Lando looks at her with a curious expression. “Cause like - Oscar doesn’t bend like that.”

Both her and Charles gape and the odd statement. Lando looks like he’s just stated the weather on an average Monday morning. 

“Lando, are you sure it’s not you who doesn’t bend like that?”

“I think I know how I can bend mate! How do you think we broke the table-“

Charles grimaces, his nose scrunching up and cheeks turning red. “Bleh! I don’t need to know how Oscar bends you.” 

“You asked!”

“And now I regret it…”

Another roar bellows into the night sky. It’s loud and painful. She looks to the boys beside her for confirmation that it’s not Oscar or Carlos. They nod at her, leaving only three options. 

She bolts inside. 

The roars turn to whines. The fire rages over the body of Jos Verstappen. Max has sunk to his knees, the sunset hues of the flames reflect in his eyes and illuminate the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

She falls beside him. Panicked hands search for any possible wounds; any burns in need of immediate attention. Max is crying as she does so, but he’s smiling at the same time. There are a million emotions running through the room. The large flames a mercy to the now deceased king. 

A fallen king lay before them. His body burned to ashes. They watch as he is devoured by the fire. The silence is deafening. The only noise being the roar of the flames. An irony that doesn’t go unnoticed. To feel serene with the one thing that would surely kill her if the starvation doesn’t first. 

Max is the first to approach the pile of ashes on the ground. He creeps up to it like they might reanimate. Like they might take back what they once had and reestablish their hold on her mind with no chance at her escape. 

Sebastian meets Max in the middle. He scoops handfuls of the ash and decorates Max’s skin. The Dutch looks miserable when Sebastian dumps a handful into Max’s own cupped hands. 

“Do I have too?”

“Do you want your fathers powers?” 

He groans, but doesn’t wait any longer. He tries to be serious, but there is an element of humor here despite the situation. 

“Does this mean Max is a cannibal now?!” She supposes Lando is trying to whisper, but the building they are in echoes. He chokes when he hears it. 

“Lando! I am trying to eat my father!” 

“So you are a cannibal!” 

Oscar slaps a hand over his mate's mouth. Briefly, a look of disgust flashes across his face. “If you  really think licking me will work, you are mistaken.” Muffled sounds from underneath Oscar’s hand escape, but nobody understands. 

Max is finally able to choke down the ashes of his father. Certainly not the most conventional of coronations, but she can’t picture it any other way. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where we were dropping to our knees for this guy.” Carlos chuckles from somewhere beside her as they close in on the new king. 

Not a prince anymore - a king. 

It suits him more, she thinks. Standing tall in front of his tribe, still laughing at Lando and Oscar and their odd positioning. At Carlos and his playful pride as he kneels. He exchanges a smile with Charles after years of rivalry now comes a shared respect. He turns endearingly to Sebastian and Lewis looking at him like proud parents. 

Then to her. She’s on the ground, her knees bruised already. Max pulls her up into his arms. He brings his hands to her jaw and once again she drifts into the calm of his endless eyes. 

Soft fingers massage her jaw. The one that aches with a desperate need for something she hasn’t had in so long. He’s gentle with her, like an antique porcelain doll that might break if he applies too much pressure. 

“You are worthy of every good thing. You are one of us, just as you always have been and you are deserving of your life.” 

The cement that had been fire in her veins vanishes as he speaks. Max keeps talking, but she’s too lost in the relief from these heavy feelings - the euphoria of knowing she belongs again. The cavern of her chest is beating with words of comfort. 

Her horns don’t feel like extra weights and her tail finds Max’s with immediate ease. They intertwine like they had before. 

“You are here and loved. You have a place with us.” He tilts her chin upward like he’s done since they mated. “Chin up, your highness, you’re a queen now.” 

~~~♡~~~

Sated. 

Her body aches from a full belly instead of the hunger pains. As does the rest of their tribe, she presumes. 

Max keeps getting phone calls… and he keeps ignoring them. Instead opting to keep his attention focussed on his tribe. His love for them - for her - is radiating through his every move. 

“I think King Max sounds good on you.” She flashes her teeth at him. The others are either chatting, or if you’re Oscar then you’re using Lando as a blanket and sleeping. They are paying no attention to them. 

“You think? I’d always resented it.” 

“You’re going to change things, Max. That’s not something to resent.” They hook tails again, a comfort she’d missed dearly. “Plus, you’re stuck with me now since you saved my life. I’m going to be the most demanding queen.” She waves her hand around for dramatic flair. 

“Oh yeah? How so?” 

“First I’m going to demand that you cuddle me - and I’ll figure out the rest later!” 

“As you wish, your highness.” 

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sexual situations, descriptions of violence.

Word Count: 838

Previously On...: Nat revealed that Jade was a Hydra agent. You told Bucky, you kissed. He left you very confused.

A/N: IT'S TIME! THIS CHAPTER IS NUTS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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The next morning, Bucky acted as though nothing unusual had happened between you two the night before, so you opted to follow his lead and pretend your mind and heart weren’t a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. 

You discussed mission strategy over breakfast. Or, rather, Bucky came up with a strategy and you argued with him against it.

“I’m not comfortable with you leavin’ the safehouse alone with Carthage out there,” he said as he stabbed into his defenseless scrambled eggs. “We don’t know where she is, or what she’s planning. I’m not gonna risk your safety just so you can go back to that club.”

“I’m not totally helpless, Barnes!” You waved your fork in his general direction. “Believe it or not, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself!”

Bucky shook his head, snorting a dismissive laugh. You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? You think I’m weak?”

“Never said that, doll,” he offered, putting his hands up, “but Carthage is a Hydra-trained super soldier. Even Nat wouldn’t be able to take her if she was out for blood.”

You felt the wind of your righteous indignation leave your sails, so you pouted. “I still have a gun,” you countered petulantly. “She’s not impervious to bullets.”

Bucky laughed. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, doll: where you gonna stash that gun for safekeeping while you’re out there doin’ your thing? In your g-string?”

“Yeah, alright,” you conceded, “maybe I haven’t thought that part through! But I’m not going to let some fear of her keep me from doing what I need to do in order to stop more women from being abducted!”

“I’m not askin’ you to, sweets.” Bucky put down his fork and looked at you. “I’m just askin’ that you don’t go out by yourself, don’t put yourself at any unnecessary risk, is all.” You couldn’t really argue with that; it was a sound point, after all. 

“I’ve still got to do my shifts at the club,” you said. “It’s our only source of leads and I can’t just stop showing up if I want them to keep them from getting suspicious.”

Bucky crossed his arms and leaned back on the kitchen stool. “Fine,” he offered after a moment’s contemplation. “Then I’ll come with you.”

Though you’d done it for thousands of strangers before now, the idea of getting up on stage and performing a strip tease, knowing that Bucky was in the audience, made your entire body flush. “I… don’t know if that’s necessarily a great idea,” you admitted.

“Why?” Bucky’s face momentarily soured. “You worried having the Winter Soldier show up is going to blow your cover?”

You flinched at your old words being thrown back in your face. “No,” you said. “Come on, you’ve got to know the only reason I said that was because, at the time, I was so fucking angry at you, I could have ripped your dick off with my bare hands and shoved it down the garbage disposal.”

Bucky’s eyes went so wide, it was comical. “Well,” he swallowed, “that is a very disturbing and traumatizing visualization… but seeing how your rage was completely justified, I’ll just … silently carry the image with me for the rest of my life.”

You shot him a look. “Dramatic much?” you asked him. “But for real, it would feel weird, getting naked up on stage knowing you were there.”

Bucky leaned back and studied you, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen hundreds of times already, doll,” he said, voice so husky that your thighs clenched. “And from a lot more intimate angles, at that.”

You blushed and ducked your head. “Yeah,” you said after clearing your throat, “but you’ll be sharing the experience with a bunch of other drunk guys. That sound like a good time to you?”

The frown that etched itself across Bucky’s lips appeared so quickly you had to stifle a laugh. “Remind me again why you ever even agreed to take this mission in the first place,” he said, crossing his arms petulantly. 

You glared back at him. “You know very well why I–”

Your phone buzzed. Picking it up from the table, you saw an incoming message from Nat. “She’s emailed me a link to the security footage she got from her KGB contacts,” you told Bucky once you’d read the message. “Clips of Carthage in the Hydra base; she’s edited the significant ones together for us.”

“Let’s see it, then,” he said, getting up and moving around to the other side of the kitchen island to stand over your shoulder.

“You sure you want to look at it?” you asked him cautiously, opening up your laptop. “I don’t want it to be triggering for you. Especially if she’s put through the same kind of shit you were.”

Bucky rested a hand on your shoulder. “Play it,” he commanded gently. “I’ll be fine.”

Casting him a final, skeptical glance, you opened Nat’s email and clicked on the link.

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[beautifulbows924]

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

[nanaslutt]

Faking an orgasm with the JJK men

incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

cont: fem reader, established relationships in all but Toji's, multiple positions, oral(f!r), rough sex, so much dirty talk, teasing, comfort, extra warnings on Toji's below

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

"You're sucking me in baby... fuckk it feels so good." Gojo groaned, tipping his head back as he humped his cock into your warm cunt. Your legs were pressed together against his chest, your ankles by his head as he wrapped his arms strongly around them. You could see the way his muscles bulged as he held onto them for leverage as he fucked you. 

Your hands dug into the sheets as his fat cockhead abused that sweet spot deep inside you, setting your veins on fire. Gojo huffed out a moan as he turned his head against your ankles, his sharp pearly teeth biting the flesh there, making you wince at the unexpected feeling. His tongue poked out from between his lips to lick at the spot he just bit, the warm appendage soothing the dull pain instantly. 

In the position Gojo had you in, each time he pulled his cock out, his dick was still squished between your thighs, making him feel more sensitive than usual. Normally, when he pulled out of you, the lack of your walls squeezing around him was almost like a sweet reprieve, a half-a-second escape from your cunts will to milk him dry. But like this, he had no escape, even when he pulled out his cock was still stimulated by the plushness of your thighs.

"Fuck- fuck this feels so good. You feelin' it too baby? Hm? Feel good for you too?" Gojo asked, a fucked out smile spreading across his features. The angle he was pounding you at made it hard to speak, opting to nod and whine in response. Gojo always fucked you so good, but you felt that you were taking a little longer to finish today, and you could tell Gojo was already on the brink of his own orgasm. 

Releasing the sheets from the intense grip of your hand, you slid your lithe fingers across your clit, quickly rubbing small circles over it. Gojo's breath hitched when you touched yourself, your walls instinctually squeezing around him as you stimulated yourself. "Good girl, make yourself cum on my c-cock, cum all over me baby-" Gojo teased as he grits his teeth together, spilling his dirty words through them. 

Sweat beaded on his hairline, falling down the side of his face and mixing with the dampness on his neck as he tipped his head back, gritting his teeth together as he rapidly approached his orgasm. "Fuck- cumming baby- c-cumming-" The white-haired man groaned, his eyes fluttering back in his head.

He looked so hot like this when he lost his composure and showed you this unfiltered side of him. His cock ramming inside you felt so good it was making your head spin with pleasure, he was doing everything right, but there was one problem. You weren't there yet. You tried to rub your clit faster, trying to force your body to cum with him, but to no avail.

 You were getting frustrated, after all, he was hitting all the right spots inside you, and combined with your fingers rubbing your clit you knew you would cum if you had a little more time to get yourself there, but you felt pressured to finish with Gojo, not wanting to be needy and have him have to help you out after he already came.

So you decided to do something you've never had to do with him before--you faked your orgasm. Right as you felt Gojo's body go stiff as he released his seed into the condom, loud groans spilling from his lips, you decided to squeeze your cunt around him, trying to mimic the pulsing of your walls around him when you came.

You tensed your abs rhythmically and drew out dramatic moans, squeezing your eyes shut to make the show more believable. You tried to shake your body and gasp as you thought you did when you came, but if you were honest, when you came with Gojo, nine times out of ten you blacked out from how intense it was, so you weren't sure if the show you were putting on was all that believable, but you did your best and prayed to whatever god was up there that he fell for it.

Since Gojo had finished right before you started to fake your orgasm, he came down before you, his watchful eyes taking in your unusual behavior as you forced your body to tense and shiver with your 'orgasm.' When you decided it had been long enough, you relaxed your body and breathed heavily against the sheets, not realizing Gojo was staring holes through you. 

"So good Satoru, so good-" You whined out of breath, cracking your eyes open. You were shocked to see Gojo staring at you with a blank look on his face. He narrowed his eyes at you once those words left your lips, did you think he was dumb? A sinister smile spread across his face, one disguised as a heartfelt, love-filled smile, the one he normally gave you after sex. It did feel a little eerie that he hadn't said anything yet though, maybe he was just gathering himself? 

Your heart pounded in your chest with nervousness, had you succeeded in tricking him? Honestly, you felt bad, but you didn't want to be a burden, you had to do it. Gojo kissed your ankles before he took one of your legs and put it on his other shoulder, spreading your legs apart for him. You expected Gojo to pull his cock out of you, but you instead were faced with Gojo's thumb rubbing slow circles across your clit.

Shocked, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, your eyes shooting open in alarm. "W-what are you- I just-" Your protests were cut off by Gojo's irrefutable words, making you hold your breath. "No, you didn't." Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you felt your face burn with shame and embarrassment. "H-huh?" You asked, your body tense as your eyes darted between his finger and the faux smile on his face.

"You think I'm dumb? You think I don't realize when my girlfriend of two years fakes her orgasm after I've seen her cum more times than I can count?" His words shocked you. You stared at him with a slacked jaw, your mouth formed in a small o shape as you somehow managed to keep eye contact with him. Stupidly, you decided to continue with your lie, trying to get out of this mortifying situation. 

"W-what? No, I just... didn't cum that hard." You said shyly and unconfident, your eyes darting to the left as you spoke. Gojo huffed out a laugh incredulously, his eyes raising in a look that said 'really?' as he once again wondered if you seriously thought he was dumb. "Oh and now you're lying right to my face? You've never had an orgasm with me that didn't leave you dumb in the head." He said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

Gojo couldn't lie that he was offended. What made you fake your orgasm? He thought you had the type of relationship where you felt comfortable asking him for things knowing he wouldn't judge you no matter what, maybe you had forgotten, and he needed to remind you. 

You scrunched your face in discomfort, keeping your eyes averted from his as you wished the floor would open up and let you fall in. Gojo slowed his thumb on your clit, keeping the stimulation shallow as he tried to get you to relax. He decided to push his own ego and feelings aside as you were clearly uncomfortable. 

His free hand caressed your thigh as he spoke, "What made you think you had to fake it, hm?" He asked, resisting the urge to ask if he didn't satisfy you. You kept looking at the plain wall behind you as you gathered the courage to speak. "I... I could tell you were close but I wasn't..." You felt your face warm in embarrassment as you spoke, your hands coming up to cover your face as you squeezed your eyes shut. God this sucked, you were seriously regretting your decision to fake your orgasm right about now. 

"I wasn't there yet... I didn't want you to have to do extra work to make me cum after you already finished." You explained, keeping your hands pressed agaisnt your face, not daring to peek at him. Satoru sighed loudly, "Really, you-" He started, shaking his head. His hand pulling at your wrist brought you back down to earth, your eyes cracking open to look into his.

"What makes you think pleasuring you is too much work for me huh?" Gojo asks, his signature teasing tone returning to his voice as he tried to defuse such a tense situation. "I get off on you cumming you know... Or did you somehow forget how I came in my pants last week just from eating you out? Or when I fingered you for hours after-" A soft knock from your foot against his neck was enough to get him to shut up.

"Okay, I- I get it I'm sorry. I was wrong just- please stop talking." You begged, pouting at him as you felt your cunt pulse around his cock that was still stuffed inside you. "Let me make you cum for real and I'll stop." He said as a compromise, smirking mischievously at you as he spoke. "F-fine. If it'll get you to shut up... fine." You said, giving in.

Satoru giggled softly as he sped up his thumb on your clit, just a bit, feeling you clench around him once more. "You're gonna give me three real orgasms for hurting my ego so bad, kay?" Gojo added as he pulled his cock out and slowly slid himself back in, making your eyes roll back in your head. "T-three?" You asked alarm plastered all over your face.

"Well... maybe four... you really hurt my feelings you know. We'll see how I feel after I make you go dumb." He smirked, promise laced in his words. You swallowed hard, yeah, you really fucked up. 

———————————————————————

Geto:

Loud 'plp' sounds resounded in your ears each time Geto brought his hips agaisnt the fat of your ass, burying his cock to the hilt inside you as he abused that spongey part of your inner walls. You bit your lip as you tried to keep your moans down, it was late after all and your apartment complex had thin walls, the last thing you needed was another noise complaint from your elderly neighbors who hadn't gotten any action in the last three decades. 

"Takin' it so well princess." Geto praised as his fingers digging into the fat of your ass, giving him the perfect leverage to pull you back against him, making his thrusts reach even deeper inside you. You gripped the sheets for dear life as you bounced back on his cock, squeezing your walls around him as you tried to get him to cum.

To be honest, you had a long day at work, and all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Geto's cock was making you feel so good, it always did, but you were exhausted and could barely keep up. To top it all off, you had work in the morning, your mind kept wandering off as you thought about your tired you were going to be tomorrow if this didn't end soon.

Geto was so into it though, he was gritting his teeth and groaning deeply as he fucked you ferally. You noticed the telltale signs of Geto's orgasm approaching so you opted to not say anything for fear of ruining the mood. "Fuck baby, I'm g-gonna cum soon. A-are you close?" He asked, his hips thrusting sloppily against your own as he neared his orgasm. 

His cockhead ramming into your g-spot felt so good, it was relaxing you even further and aiding in your sleepiness, but you didn't feel like you were going to cum yet, even with him rubbing your clit. So much of you having an orgasm depended on your mental state as well, as it did for most people. If you weren't present and aroused both mentally and physically, being 100% present in both ways, you weren't going to cum, it had nothing to do with Geto.

As his thrusts sped up, you quickly came to the realization that you weren't going to cum tonight, which didnt bother you in the slightest, but you knew it would bother Geto, he was always so attentive and perceptive about you, which is why you insisted that he take you from behind so he wouldn't pick up on how out of it you really were.

When you responded with, "Y-yes S-uguru-" You didn't have to fake your moans as it really did feel good and he was fucking all of the air out of your lungs. However, you still weren't close to climax. You had already sealed your fake in that moment, realizing you were going to have to fake an orgasm.

You've had to fake it before with other men before you got with Geto and he showed you what real pleasure was like, but the two of you had been together for so long you honestly forgot how to fake it, so you would have to do your best. 

Geto leaned over you and wrapped his arms around your body, opting to let his balls slap agaisnt your clit now that his arms were hugging your torso. He closed his eyes as he rolled his hips against your ass, his cock nudging your sweet spot deep inside you, making you feel shocks of electricity through your body.

"Love you p-pretty girl, g-gonna cum inside you, you want that?" Geto cooed agaisnt your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your arms. He followed his words with a deep groan into your ear, making you whine in return as he bit the shell of your ear. His words worked you up to no end, you started feeling more stimulated now that he was so close to you and talking you through it like this, but you still knew you weren't going to cum. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head each time he massaged your pussy walls, "Fuck give it to me baby- cum inside me." You whined, meaning every word. His pleasure was enough to make you feel good, so you weren't too disheartened about not cumming, you just hoped Geto wouldn't catch on to your fake orgasm. 

Geto's hips stilled against your ass, his body stiffening and he groaned against your ear, rope after rope shooting deep into your cunt. It was then with all his weight against your back that you realized how tired you were physically. Your body collapsed against the sheets as you gave a half asses performance of your climax as he filled you with his seed.

Your moans sounded on par with your normal orgasm, but your physical reactions didn't. Geto could tell even amidst his orgasm, that you weren't really cumming. He made a mental note to discuss it with you as soon as he finished unloading his balls into your pussy. Your legs shook with your exhaustion as you gasped against the sheets, Geto's heavy body pressing you into them.

Geto's moans were choppy as he rolled his hips agaisnt your ass, riding the aftershocks of his orgasm out in your cunt before he slowly slid his cock out of you, his dark eyes watching the way his cum chased his cock out and spilled down the back of your thighs. 

Your eyes fluttered heavily with sleep as you fought to keep yourself awake. You might not have cum, but Geto fucking you and cumming inside you had felt damn good and had drained you of your energy. Geto stared down at you with concern in his eyes as he ran over reason after reason in his head that you just felt the need to fake your orgasm with him.

He flopped down against the sheets next to you on his back and pulled your sleepy body atop his, his large hands caressing the soft skin of your back. You breathed steadily against him, taking in the familiar smell of his sweet cologne stuck to his skin. It was then as Suguru saw the side of your face and really noticed how deep your eyebags were that he figured out the reason you faked your orgasm, not even having to ask.

Surugur's ego had taken a blow, and when he realized you weren't really cumming in the middle of his orgasm it definitely took a took on the quality of it as he was too preoccupied with wondering why you did such a thing to fully immerse himself in his high. "You know you could tell me you're tired instead of faking your orgasm," Geto said bluntly, his words still sounding soft despite how disappointed he felt with himself. Why would you not just tell him? 

All of the sleepiness was washed away from your brain in an instant when his words hit you. You felt guilt wash over you as his words mortified you to no end, how did he pick up on it so fast? Had your acting been that bad? "If you're having trouble don't stay quiet about it. I don't fuck you to only make myself feel good y'know, makin' me feel all selfish over here." Geto whispered, saying those last few words playfully. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your head agaisnt his chest, trying to bury your face into his skin. "It's... not that big of a deal, really. I was just feeling tired but... I didn't want to ruin the mood for you. You were so into it." You said softly. In the next second Geto was gripping your chin with his large hand and lifting your head off of his chest as he tipped his head down to meet yours, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"I don't fuck you to make myself feel good." He repeated. "I don't give a fuck if I'm half a second from cumming, if you aren't feeling it, stop me. I mean that. Or if there is something I can do that'll help you cum, tell me. I don't mind slowing down if it means I get to make my pretty girl cum with me. You deserve to feel good too, don't just put up with it." He said seriously, not even blinking as he looked into your eyes honestly as he spoke. 

You pouted at his erotic but reassuring words before nodding, keeping your eyes locked on his. "Good girl, now...can I eat you out?" He whispered, his hot breath tickling your lips. His words caught you so off guard, making your eyebrows shoot open in surprise. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes looking over to check the time before you responded. "Call off tomorrow. Yaga won't give a fuck just... please, let me make you feel good." Geto said, reading right through you. He truly was too observant for his own good.

Locking your eyes onto his once more, you nodded, letting Geto maneuver your body so you were laying comfortably against the sheets, your body sinking into the pillows. Geto kissed his way down your body, his hands intertwining with yours as he made his way between your legs, keeping his eyes shut as he relished in the soft skin of your body on his lips. "This time, don't you dare fake it. Or I might not be as nice." He warned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, waiting until you nodded in understanding before he leaned down to lap at your cunt. 

———————————————————————

Nanami:

You gasped when Nanami shook his head back and forth into your folds, his nose rubbing just right against your clit as he ate you out like a man starved, trying to burry his face as deep as he could against you, his tongue lapping greedily against his walls. His warm hands were wrapped under your thighs, holding you in place against him so you couldn't escape no matter what.

"K-kento- fuck-" You moaned, your head tipping back against his soft pillow filled with the scent of his cologne as he ate you out with fever, sending shockwave after shockwave of arousal through your body. For being a virgin when you first got together, Kento was especially good with using his tongue, it's like he had somehow studied all of your most sensitive spots without even touching you. 

After being together for so long though, Kento now knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew exactly what got you going. Which is why you were getting so frustrated with yourself when you were pushed right to the brink of your orgasm, but it fizzled out at the last moment. You had told Kento, "Right there right t-there-" At least three times now when he sucked your clit into his mouth just right, but somehow each time, you never fully came.

The blonde man was so good at keeping up the same pace against you when you told him you liked something so as to not ruin your orgasm with his own eagerness, which only frustrated you even more. He was doing everything right, sucking and licking all of the places that usually made you come undone, so why couldn't you cum? 

You were beginning to get fed up with your own body, less focusing on the pleasure he was giving you as you instead focused all of your brainpower on trying to cum, which simultaneously made you not able to fully experience the pleasure... resulting in you being even more frustrated when you couldn't cum.

Kento seemed totally content between your thighs despite how many times he thought you were going to cum. Honestly, that might've been better for him. He always ate you out even after you came, forcing you into overstimulation as he ate you out until he was satisfied. Of course, he made sure you orgasmed at least once before he stopped, but your taking a longer time to get there was not worrisome to him at all, he knew your body took longer some days because of certain reasons and that was okay.

He was doing this for himself, but also of course, for you. So if you need to take your time, so be it. Only Nanami hadn't even picked up that you were taking a while to cum, the man too absorbed in eating you out to realize how much time has passed. You, on the other hand, thought he knew how long you were taking, and that made you nervous. You just wanted to cum, you didn't want to be a burden to him for taking so long.

"Mmmm..." Nanami moaned against your clit as he suckled the little bud between his lips, opting to replace his tongue inside you with his long fingers now as they slid inside you with ease, immediately curling up inside you as they found that sensitive spot deep inside your gummy walls. Nanami felt his cock twitch when your cunt clenched around his fingers at the feeling, the man slowly humping the bed under him to relieve himself. 

This abrupt change of stimulation caught your body off guard as your orgasm was once more built up inside you. This time you really thought you were going to finish as Nanami battered your stiff bud with his tongue between his lips. His watchful eyes stuttered your face as it screwed in pleasure. He watched the way your jaw dropped and your eyes fluttered shut. Your thighs squeezed around his head as you felt your high ball up inside you, pushing you right to the edge.

"K-ken don't stop- f-fuck don't stop please-" You cried, a single tear squeezing itself out from under your eyelid as your back arched off the sheets and you focused on that feeling of cumming. Cmon, you can do it, just a little more, it's right there... you told yourself, becoming too obsessed over your high once more, resulting in the feeling unraveling in your stomach, once again slipping out of your grasp.

You wanted to cry as you felt it slowly fizzle out. You were so fed up with how strange your body was acting so you made a split-second decision and decided you were going to fake it. You don't think you could take one more edge from your body, you wanted this to be over. Nanami moaned "mhm, mhm."'s against your clit as he watched your body 'unravel'. 

You put on your best show as you tried to squeeze your cunt around his fingers in a pulsing motion like you did when you came. You clenched your lower abs and jerked your body forward in on itself as you pretended to cum. Moans of Nanami's name left your lips all too coherent for you to be saying it during an orgasm. You should've figured that wouldn't work on him.

Nanami's arousal immediately turned to confusion as you rocked yourself against his face, pretending to cum. His hips stopped humping against the sheets as he watched you put on this poor show. Nanami was so familiar with how you really came, and he was so up close and personal with you right now, it was too obvious what you had just done. 

Nanami slowly pulled his fingers out from inside of you as he detached his mouth from your cunt and slid your legs off of his shoulders, wiping his mouth from the back of his hand as he rose to his knees, his arousal evident in his pants as he sat on his heels, his bulge presented for your eyes. You gasped dramatically, snapping your thighs shut in sensitivity as you peeled your eyes open, giving Nanami your best 'fucked out' look.

"Felt so good Ken." You said, smiling through your guilt. Immediately you regretted what you did, and he hadn't even said anything yet. Lying about an orgasm was a pretty important thing, especially in such a serious relationship. As far as you knew, he was going to be the man you married, so lying about orgasming during sex would only be detrimental to you and leave you feeling unsatisfied and unhappy, and you knew how much Nanami cherished communication. 

Nanami did not smile at your words, he kept his face blank and unreadable as his hands caressed your thighs, his mind trying to find the right words to say. He felt hurt that you felt the need to fake an orgasm with him when he was eating you out too. Nanami took a deep breath in through his nose and licked his lips before he spoke, his eyes finding yours as he did so.

You felt like passing out, he had noticed, hadn't he? Every nerve of your body was set on fire as you waited for him to speak, your heart beating loudly in your ears. "You wanna talk about what just happened?" He asked, making eye contact with you as he rubbed your thigh soothingly. "H-huh?" You asked, playing dumb. Your face immediately felt hot as your eyebrows shot open in surprise.

"Please don't play dumb right now. I'm already... never mind." Nanami started, taking a deep breath. "Why did you feel the need to fake your orgasm? Did you need something more from me?" Nanami asked, his words coming out more self-conscious than he wanted. You immediately sat up, your hands grabbing one of his as you sat face to face with him, rubbing his hand with your fingers as you tried to assure him that wasn't the case.

"N-no Nanami It- you did nothing wrong. It felt really good I'm being honest." You replied, your eyes darting from his face to the walls behind him as you spoke, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it about me. I just want to know why you felt the need to lie." You felt a pang in your heart at Nanami's words. You really had lied to him, huh? Fuck, that left a sour taste in your mouth. 

"I'm not going to be upset with you," Nanami assured, his large hand caressing your cheek, snapping you out of your thoughts. You felt a little exposed talking about this while being naked, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Nanmi's neck, your chest pressed against his as he pulled you into his lap, making you feel more comfortable. "Fuck... Kento this is so embarrassing." You mumbled into his neck, your words tickling his skin as you spoke.

"You don't have to be embarrassed with me. Talk to me." Nanami encouraged, his trimmed nails raking over the skin of your back, relaxing yours further into him. "I don't know what was wrong but... I just couldn't cum." You said shyly, quietly speaking the words against him. Nanami stayed silent as you spoke, not wanting to push you too fast. 

"Every time I would uh, get there- It would always just fizzle out." You further explained. "I felt like I was taking too long so I- I faked it." Nanami absorbed your words as he tried to find the appropriate thing to say. "Why didn't you just tell me that princess?" He asked, further pressing you to continue. You buried your head into the crook of his neck further in embarrassment. 

"I don't know, It's embarrassing to talk about. I was frustrated and... didn't want you to feel like you were doing anything wrong." Nanami closed his eyes and smiled at your misplaced concern for him, you were always so thoughtful. "I appreciate it honey but you know how much I love eating you out." He spoke, making your face heat up at his words. 

"If you're ever struggling to get there, talk to me and I can help you, okay? That's what I'm here for." He assured, kissing the side of your head. He smiled when you squeezed your body tighter around him, trying to hide in his arms. "You shouldn't be embarrassed about that okay? It happens." Your heart swelled at his words, you were so in love with this man. 

"I hit the jackpot with you." You responded, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise before he released a small laugh at your words, his deep giggle vibrating through your body. He leaned back, forcing you to emerge from your hiding spot in the crook of his neck and be exposed to his eyes. His comforting hand caressed your cheek as he looked at you lovingly.

It was hard to not feel self-conscious as you sat on top of his still-hard cock, naked, while you talked about your feelings as he studied your face. "Can I make you cum on my cock honey? I think you'll have a much easier time getting there when I'm inside you." He spoke, his words sending shivers down your spine. You felt a sudden rush of warmth downwards as he looked lovingly at you, patiently awaiting your answer. "Please." You responded, pouting at him as you took your lip between your teeth. 

———————————————————————

Toji: cw// face slapping, manhandling, spitting, choking, use of the word 'bitch' 

Your pussy was so loud as Toji fucked into you in such an intense position. He had you folded in a brutal mating press as he forced his body weight on top of yours, suffocating you with the sheer size of him. "You like this fucking cock splitting 'ur little pussy open? Huh?" Toji groaned against the shell of your ear, his sharp teeth biting it after he spoke.

Your moans sounded so desperate as he humped his cock into you, each thrust he gave you forcing a lewd and choppy moan to be forced from between your lips. "Y-ess To-jii" You responded, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you nodded dumbly under him. Toji grinned as he growled agaisnt your ear, bringing his hips back further before he bullied his cock back into your cunt, the stretch enough to make you scream when he pulled himself out to the tip before fucking it back inside you.

"God you're so fucking tight-" Toji groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fucked you with a carnal need. His balls were wet with your arousal that was spilling from your cunt, creating lewd slapping against your ass each time his cock thrust inside you. "Fuck- t-too hardd-" You tried to complain, unable to even attempt pushing him away from how weak your body was combined with the brutal position he had you in.

"Too hard? But you're taking it so- fucking- well-" Toji growled, emphasizing each word with a thrust, your wetness squelching out around him. You were absolutely helpless as he had his way with you. His teeth sunk into your neck when your walls squeezed too tight around him, making his balls twitch with the need for release. "Fuck- loosen up- can barely fucking move when you squeeze me like that baby." Toji groaned, his large hand gripping your jaw as he made you look at him.

You stared up at him dumbly, your eyes all out of focus as your jaw hung open, moan after moan leaving your lips. Toji bit his lip before he shook his head at how turned on he was. Wadding up the spit in his mouth, he spat the saliva between your lips, landing right on your tongue. Toji's hand was still on your jaw as he spoke, "Fucking swallow that shit." He groaned.

His cock twitched when your lips closed a second later, swallowing what he gave you before opening once more and sticking out your tongue, showing him it was clean. "Oh good fucking- girl-" Toji growled, emphasizing his words with a harsh slap to your face before he grabbed your chin once more and made you face him. A cockdrunk smile was spread across your face when he pulled you back to him after slapping you.

He laughed maliciously, the deep sound getting cut off with a groan when he tangled your lips together messily, the kiss nothing but teeth and tongue as he kissed you. "You like when I hit you huhhh? Feels good bein' slapped around by me when I'm fucking your womb isn't- that- riight?" Toji teased, drawing out his words as his arousal grew, his words coming out between thrusts. A deep blush spread across his cheeks when you nodded dumbly, letting yourself be manhandled by the large man over you. 

"Fuuuuck, I'm gonna fill you up." Toji groaned, his eyes fluttering back in his head as he felt his balls tighten with his release. "Gonna cum for me too? Gonna fucking cum all over my cock?" He groaned, his dirty words going right to your clit. As good as his cock felt, you weren't close to cumming yet. It wasn't anything Toji was doing wrong you just took a little extra time to get there.

But Toji was just your fuckbuddy, you couldn't possibly burden him with your problem, right? Maybe if you were dating you would've said something, but as it was, you didn't want to tell Toji you needed a little more. That kind of communication always seemed to embarrass you, so you opted to stay quiet and lie instead. Worst case, you could finish yourself off after he left, it was no big deal. Or so you thought.

You nodded at his question, your body bouncing and shaking under him with the intensity in which he was fucking you. "Yeah, you are, good girl, f-fuck good fucking girl." Toji praised, his words making your cunt gush even more wetness out around him. It was a bummer you weren't going to cum tonight, especially with how good he was fucking you, but you hooked up quite frequently and this was the first time you had to fake it so... it would be fine. 

"Fuck- gonna fill you up- haahhh- fuck!!" Toji groaned as he buried his head in the crook of your neck and bit down on your skin, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh as he released rope after rope of his hot cum inside you, his balls pressed flush against your ass as his hips stilled, save for the shaking and jerking of his body every so often.

You whined as he filled you up, not having to do much in faking your orgasm as Toji came so hard you thought he wouldn't notice. Your legs shook with weakness as they tingled from being in such an intense position for so long. Your nails dug into the skin of Toji's back as he came inside you, his breathing staggered agaisnt your skin. 

When he finally came down from his high he leaned up, letting your legs fall off his shoulders as he stared down at your cunt, where his cock was still plugging you up, some of his cum trickling around his cock from how much he filled you. You breathed heavily, relishing in the warmth you felt in your belly. Toji noticed the lack of your walls spasming around him, and how lucid you looked. Squinting his eyes at you, he decided to test you.

It was so obvious you hadn't cum, which, fine. He would fuck you again until you did, but you didn't look like you were going to say anything about it, so he did. "How did cummin' on my cock while I filled you up feel?" Toji asked, keeping his words in that same playful tone as he smirked at you, making you think he hadn't caught on to the little show you put on for him. 

"So good Toji, always make me feel so good." You replied. Another red flag went off in his head, you were able to form fully coherent sentences? You were lying to him, right to his fucking face. Toji's hand wrapping around your neck caught you off guard, your eyes shooting open in alarm as your hands wrapped around his thick wrist. 

"You got balls I'll give you that," Toji replied, ticking his head at you. Before you could ask what he meant, he was fucking into you again, his cock hitting right against your sweet spot at this new angle as he sat back on his heels with your thighs thrown over his own. "W-ha--" You couldn't even finish your word as Toji's hand squeezed tighter around your wrist, the pressure sure to leave a bruise.

Your mouth fell open in pleasured pain as your air was completely cut off before he relaxed a little, still making sure he had a firm grip on you. "You think I'm an idiot?" He spat, "Think I don't know how to make my women cum, huh?" He chastised, his hips even meaner than before as his thumb came down to rub against your clit fast and hard, making you scream out in intense pleasure.

"Yeah bitch, fucking cry, cry from how good I'm making you feel." He grit. Your eyes fluttered back in your head as your orgasm suddenly washed over you, taking you completely off guard with how suddenly it hit you. It was so intense, it left you gasping and shaking around his cock as he fucked you through it, his hand keeping a strong hold on your neck.

You hadn't realized but you had squirted all over his abdomen, wetting his skin and making it sparkle under the lights of your room. Before you even fully came down from your orgasm, Toji abandoned his hand from your neck and slapped you across the face, hard, before he gripped your jaw and made you look at him through the haze in your eyes from cumming so hard. "If you ever try to lie to me about this shit ever again, I'll make you regret it." He spat, his fingers digging into your face.

Your hands gripped his wrist again as you nodded quickly, letting him know you understood. Toji nodded slowly back before he abruptly hooked his fingers in your mouth and started fucking you again, giving you no time to recover. Drool spilled from the side of your mouth as he kept your jaw open for him. "That's fucking right, now give me another one." He growled. "Wanna feel you squirt all over me again."

[yueebby]

sooo i read your "indulge me?" piece and that's why i wanted to ask for gojo simping for reader that doesn't really seem him as more as a friend and he's fine with it (lol he's not but he's need to keep the facade you know???) hope you write it at some point! btw loving you writing so far <333

11:34pm — gojo satoru

contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so in love bye, underage drinking, tokyo and kyoto students have a little get together!

“what’s wrong with him?” utahime watches her white haired underclassman down another can of beer. it was rare to see gojo drinking with the rest of the group, always opting for a soda instead.

shoko takes another swig out of her drink, unsurprised. “[name] is on a date.” 

a pathetic groan leaves gojo’s lips and the upper half of his body is splayed over the kotatsu in shoko’s room, sunglasses long forgotten somewhere. he lets out an unapologetic burp. everyone at the table spares him a glance of pity. 

utahime grimaces and mutters a quiet, “gross”. 

“don’t provoke him,” geto scolds shoko, flicking some ash from his cigarette to the ashtray below. “she’s just dealing with clan matters. arranged marriages and whatnot.” he used his free hand to land a firm pat on gojo’s back. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t try to comfort satoru? 

“poor thing. i can keep you company in the meantime,” mei mei’s smile is far from something with good intentions. gojo shakes his head to refuse, but with the way his forehead was pressed to the table, it looked comical. like a child throwing a tantrum. 

the only thing that managed to get gojo satoru out of his drunken slump was a soft knock on the door. he could recognize that pattern anywhere. could it be–? the snow haired boy immediately perks up. his drunk dazed eyes brighten as he quickly makes his way to the door. 

geto snorts at the way his best friend reacts. he thinks he can see an imaginary tail wagging, as if he were a dog. 

“you’re late!��� gojo accuses you when he opens the door. you blink.

“are you…okay?” your voice is laced with concern as gojo’s large frame towers over you. gojo preens.

“awww, is my [name] worried about me now? don’t worry, ‘m doing just fine!” there is a goofy grin painted on gojo’s face as he leans against the doorway. all conversation has stopped and every sorcerer was listening attentively to gojo's hopeless conversation with you. utahime can’t help but feel just a little compassion for the boy. he was pining so much it hurt.

“i wasn’t worried. it's just that your words are all slurred– don’t tell me you let shoko talk you into drinking with her again?” you sigh. it was hard to miss the smell of beer on him. gojo and alcohol never mixed well, and the last thing you needed tonight was another lecture from yaga. 

from inside her room, shoko shouts, “it wasn’t me this time! the idiot decided to drown himself in beer after we warned him not to!” it was common knowledge that gojo couldn’t handle his alcohol. 

the male in question pouts.

“can a man not grieve about the love of his life being married to another?” gojo deflates. on the other side of the threshold, you wrinkle your nose.

“who said anything about marriage? like hell i’m going to accept a proposal from naoya zen’in.” you grumble. it had been a long night. dealing with your family and naoya was enough to scare you into staying in jujutsu tech for good. you’d rather lose your sanity to gojo than your dignity to naoya. 

“never mind that though, are mei mei and utahime still here? i was hoping to catch up with them!” you smile, crouching under his arm to make your way into the room. gojo doesn’t hesitate to trail right behind you. 

“[name]!” utahime waves happily at you, her mood no longer sour after she sees you. your wave back is enthusiastic. mei mei acknowledges your presence.

“how was dinner with naoya?” suguru asks. your face pinches up. he laughs before handing you a cold can of soda which you accept graciously.

you hear gojo mutter to himself from behind you.

“what’s up with him?” you whisper to suguru.

“you know how he is when he drinks,” he sighs, ushering you to sit beside him. gojo seemed to have his own agenda though, forcefully squeezing himself between the two of you. you shoot him an annoyed look to which he responds with a grin on his face. 

“‘m tired,” he whines, stretching his arms dramatically while letting out a loud yawn. you grunt when there’s a heavy weight on you; gojo has thrown his entire body on your side.

you don’t bother pushing him off. you’ve learned in the two years you’ve known gojo that he is like a baby when he gets drunk. it’s best if you let him have his way.

“go to sleep then, idiot,” you flick his forehead. he juts his bottom lip childishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. his eyes are captivating and you think you see nervousness through those azure orbs.

“will you come to bed with me too?” he rests his chin on your shoulder. you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“eh? why would i?”

“because i’m cute.” gojo bats those long eyelashes of his innocently. you roll your eyes playfully before taking another sip out of your soda. 

“you’re weird– that’s what you are.” your lips quirk upward, eyes twinkling with mirth. he sulks, chin still comfortably supported by your shoulder.

“‘m not that bad!” he protests, a frown forming on his lips. you look at him for a long moment. this was the first time you’ve ever gotten to look at gojo this closely. 

his hair was getting longer, you note silently. with your free hand, you slowly move a strand of hair out of his face. gojo watches you earnestly. if his cheeks were not already flushed, they are now. 

“can we stop it with the flirting? let us single folk live in peace.” shoko speaks up. you turn your attention hastily from gojo to the rest of your fellow peers. 

“i feel like i’m intruding on something,” mei mei says scandalously. your eyes widen.

“we are not– no way!” you shake your head repeatedly. no one believes you. especially not while gojo is still resting on your shoulder, eyes watching you, full of love.

“stop giving him all your attention and talk to us! we’re much better company,” utahime scowls, pointing her beer disapprovingly at the white haired boy on you. you think you hear gojo grunt.

“alright, alright,” you concede. 

“i hope you don’t mind me asking again, but do tell us how your night with the zen’in kid went,” suguru snickers. you groan exasperatedly.

“where do i even start?”

the rest of the night goes by pleasantly. you had been so engrossed with retelling your experience with dealing with your family that you had failed to notice what gojo was up to. by the time everyone left their respective dorms (or temporary dorms), you noticed the head of white hair sleeping soundly on your lap.

he mumbles something in his sleep, nuzzling himself closer into your stomach. cute. you giggle at how innocent he looks. 

you don’t know what took over you, but you remember bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. to your surprise, gojo reciprocates your kiss. to the best of his capabilities anyway. you watch as he puckers his lips in his sleep. oh my– how precious.

you suppose he isn't so bad.

notes. THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST ANON ASK. ily!!! i saw somewhere that gege confirmed gojo would have drunken failures when he was a student haha this is my take on that. hes so bf

also thank you for all the support on my first post?!? you guys are too sweet im crying. i literally giggle and kick my feet reading your feedback ><

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★

Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!

The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.

He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.

"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.

The second time it happened, he was suspicious.

Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.

Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.

The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.

"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.

"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.

"Have you seen my ribbon?"

"I haven't."

"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."

"You must be imagining things, dearest."

You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.

"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"

Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"

The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)

Ah, so that's what this is all about.

"You want me to stay home?"

A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"

"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.

The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.

"Got you," you sing quietly.

His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.

He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.

Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.

"Ten more minutes."

"Ouch. Stingy."

He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[chrollohearttags]

the ones who love to talk their shit while they’re in it. The cocky motherfuckers who bragged on it because they knew what they were doing. They can’t stare at your beautiful face for too long though or they’d be forced to tap out just as quickly. So he opts put you on all fours and fuck you relentlessly from behind. A hand stationed at the small of your back and another cradling your throat as that heavy ass bounced against his pelvis. Coating those round cheeks with a sheath of baby oil because it made that pretty brown skin of yours look even better. He could stare at it for hours..watching that thickness ripple with each deep stroke. His cock housed inside of you as if it belonged there..never wanting to pull out. And he wouldn’t so long as you kept creaming for him the way you did. “Yeah..you nutting on this shit, huh, baby? Got you creaming all over daddy’s dick. Does it feel good?” Cooing to you with a rhetorical question he already knew the answer to. But he had his response as far as he was concerned when you leaned down to chomp on the pillow in front of you. “Yeah, I know. I know, mama..but you can handle it. You keep fucking me back so you obviously want more. I’ll give you all the dick you want, don’t worry..as much as you can handle..” assuring with a heavy handed slap to your ass before so casually gliding a thumb into that puckering hole. The squelching noise along with your gentle stream of squirt had him ready to give you his load right then but he held his composure a little longer. “Ooh fuck..she’s talking to me now. So wet, I’m barely even staying in it..” but alas, he didn’t wanna pull out. Not when you reached around and grabbed those cheeks to spread them open. “Mmmm….that’s my girl. Show me you know what to do with it. Nobody can take this shit the way you can.” And he’d fill your head and ears with all the encouragement you needed. After all, what were a few words when he could easily back them up?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰

eren, gojo, sukuna, onyakopon, aomine, toji, draken, kisaki, taiju, connie + anyone else you’d like to add

[dotster001]

Eric Venue

Summary: Vil x gn!reader (technically). Vil has always found your mannerisms to be endearing. They are less endearing when they are evoked by his father.

A/N: NEW DILF DROPPED AND I HAVE ZWRO SHAME AWOOGA!!! Special thanks to @animepaniclover122403 and @l1ls4y0 for being my eyes on the inside and getting me pictures. Warning, I'm on the EN server so I know absolutely nothing about Eric Venue so this may be very out of character.

Note: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Vil remembers the first time you met him. You wouldn't look directly at him, opting to stare at the floor as you mumbled incoherent sentences. Not a clear thought left your mouth.

Were you scared? Intimidated? Or, worse, did you not like the way he looked? That last possibility kept him up longer than he'd be proud to admit.

When he moved in with you during SDC training camp, he watched you walk into a wall three separate times. It was that third time that he realized what the situation was. You were flustered. How absolutely adorable.

Over the course of the weeks, you were eventually able to say more than three words to him. You continued to have issues looking directly at him, but he didn't mind that. It was cute. And a little bit of an ego boost.

Now the two of you were thick as thieves. And, in a teasing mood, he decided to ask you about your initial reaction to him. 

As expected, you couldn't look directly at him, staring at the floor as you fidgeted with clasped hands.

Then he heard, barely above a whisper, “I've never seen anyone who is as beautiful as you.”

His heart fluttered. He knew you well enough now to know that you were from another world…

Which meant…

He was more beautiful than anyone you'd ever seen in two worlds.

“Sometimes…sometimes I can't look directly at you because when I look at you I…I can't think, and my mouth goes dry.”

Adrenaline rushed through him, and he couldn't fight off the vicious grin as he cruelly took your chin in his hand, and forced you to look at him.

“You are so adorable.” Then, to absolutely destroy what little calm you had left he pressed a kiss to your nose. You immediately crumbled, your only life line the hand still holding your chin, as he hid his laugh behind a delicate hand to his mouth.

And now? Now he'd invited you home with him for summer break. He'd planned every day's outfit down to the hour, hoping to absolutely destroy you with his casual attire. Not that it was ever truly casual, but that was by design.

And, by the end of the summer, you'd ask him out, and he'd graciously accept. And then you'd live happily ever after.

He forgot to account for one thing…

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you,” his father said with an amused smile, as he pressed a light kiss to each of your cheeks.

Vil knew immediately. Your eyes flicked to his father's, then your entire being crumbled.

“H-h-h-hi, Mr. Venue-”

"Oh please. No need to be so formal. Call me Eric.”

“E-E-E-”

“Father! I thought you had a meeting today,” Vil cut you off quickly, an unconcealed tinge of irritation to his voice. Not that you'd notice. You were too far gone, your face unsubtly turned down to your feet.

“I did, but I'd be a poor host if I didn't come meet your- what are they again?” His father smirked, a challenge in his eyes.

“I'm-I’m his-”

“Y/N’s my guest. My guest. No need to be a host, I have it all taken care of.”

Vil and his father smiled at each other for a moment. A moment too long apparently, because you ended up trying to speak again.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your home,” you whispered, barely audible.

“It's not a problem!” He reached out for your hands, taking them in his own, his thumbs gently caressing your knuckles. “It's wonderful that my son has people that are important to him. Would you, perhaps, like to stay forever?” 

In a move very much like one of Vil's, Eric gently tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. Vil watched your face fall under the spell he himself often placed you under. It took everything inside him not to act like a child in a rage. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, and quickly steered you away.

“Y/N is very tired so I will show them to their room,” Vil said. “As I said, I will be their host, no need for you to take time off.”

His father laughed as he quickly shoved you into a nearby guest room. Not even the one he had intended to put you in. But he had to get you away from his dad.

“He smelled nice,” you whispered.

Of course he did. His father smelled of mahogany and expensive cologne. When he was little, that smell meant home. Now that smell meant-

“He was so pretty,” you said with a rather nasty voice crack.

Vil grunted. Grunted! Sevens, the effect you had on him.

Just as his father had done, he took your chin in his hand, and said, firmly, “You're min-my guest. Not his. So try to keep your attention on me.”

You looked at him with big innocent eyes. Vil fought back a distressed, lovesick sigh.

“Understood…but…what if,” you bit your lip, and Vil knew whatever was about to come out of your mouth would give him gray hair. Though, clearly that would be something you would like.

“What if, you shared me?”

He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth a couple times.

“I could be both of your guests!”

“What! Do you know what you're saying?” You had to! At least a piece of you had to, or you wouldn't be continuing the conversation. 

“I don't feel safe answering that question,” you said, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at his attitude.

“I'll be blunt, Y/N,” he said firmly. “You cannot date my father.”

“I never said-”

“You didn't have to. It's written all over your face.”

You opened your mouth to protest, closed it, huffed, looked away, then you turned back to him.

“Why not?”

Vil’s jaw dropped. He sputtered, then exclaimed, “Are you seriously asking why you can't date my dad?”

“He's a dilf,” you shrugged.

“You also can't look directly at him!”

“I can change-”

“Doubtful.”

“Wow, okay. I see what this is. You are intimidated by the thought of me as your step parent.”

“You can't be my step parent!”

“I knew it! You're scared of me wearing the pants between the two of us!”

“No! You can't date my dad, because you are supposed to fall for me!”

You blinked at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two perfectly manicured nails. There went his summer plan.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He sighed heavily. “Oh, as in, you feel the same? Or oh as in, awkward, leave me alone?”

You looked away, and Vil was certain if he felt your cheeks, they would feel feverish.

“I-er-ugh.”

“Take your time,” he hummed his amusement coming back to him.

You glared at him, before crumbling again, and mumbling some gibberish. 

“You can't even talk to me, but you think you can handle my father?”

You glared at him, then took a calming breath.

“I like you too.”

“Thank sevens,” he pulled you in for a hug, holding back a snicker as he felt you tremble a little.

“You smell good, too,” you muttered, before hiding your face in his shoulder. He could feel his pride swelling.

But only you could bring it down just as quickly as you brought it up.

“Why can't you share me?” your tone sounded innocent enough, but he groaned as he pushed you out at arms length. 

“I absolutely forbid you from flirting with my father.”

“I have two hands, so I could hold both of your hands at the same time!”

“Y/N, do not make me use my unique magic on you,” he warned. He watched you glare at him, but you quickly lost your composure as he reopened his arms to you, and you buried yourself against him.

He had a whole summer to keep you away from his father.

Wonderful.

[denimbex1986]

'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”

...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.

“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”

“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?

It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.

Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.

That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.

In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.

It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?

It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.

Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?

Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.

Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?

They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.

Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?

It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]

Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?

I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.

There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?

There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.

Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?

Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.

To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.

Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.

Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.

I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?

I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.

Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?

Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.

[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]

I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…

I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”

[laenordeservedbetter]

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

Words: 1k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader (Godly parent not specified)

Synopsis: Clarisse was fine with not getting anything she wanted until she laid her eyes on you.

Warnings: Pining, whipped!Clarisse, This is mostly in Clarisse's POV, handling of dangerous weapons (a dagger and a spear). [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: I apologize if the storyline is messy. I wanted this to be longer, but my attention span was not cooperating with me today. I had to take a lot of breaks while writing this because I could not sit still for more than five minutes.

masterlist || previous work

—

Clarisse remembers the first time she saw you.

You were in the forge, polishing some of the newly-made spears because you had nothing better to do. You were under the supervision of Luke since he was showing you around, but the boy had kept his distance, opting to just watch from the sidelines as you worked. Clarisse had walked into the forge, the chatter that was going on around you stopping. You discontinued what you were doing in order to look at her, wondering why your fellow campers were on-edge at her presence.

Your eyes met hers, taking her aback.

She hadn’t seen you before.

Once Clarisse realized that she was staring, she promptly cleared her throat, scowling. “What are you looking at, newbie?” She asked, crossing her arms. Her plans on scaring you, however, failed when you smiled sheepishly.

You had been equally mesmerized by her, something that she failed to notice. “Sorry, you’re just so—”

Clarisse held her breath, preparing herself for an accusation (that she’s mean and terrifying – both of which are true, but words that sting nonetheless). Though, it’s not like she’s going to think about it for the rest of –

“—Pretty.” You conclude your sentence.

Oh.

Clarisse’s brows furrowed. She thought she would hear something insulting, but instead she was met with a compliment? Her eyes searched yours once again, looking for a trace of malice. She didn’t find any, which made her confusion stir all the more. She scoffs, furious at herself for not being able to figure you out. “Whatever.” Clarisse walks away, turning her back on you so as to not show her weakness. She storms back to the Ares cabin, forgetting the reason why she went to the forge in the first place.

You frown as you look at the dagger in your hand, examining the initials engraved on the grip.

C.L.R.

---

The next time Clarisse saw you was when you were watching her train, your eyes following her every move. Clarisse pretended to ignore you until she found herself unable to focus. She put down her spear, turned to you and asked, “Would you like me to teach you?” before she could even stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, please.”

You walked over and Clarisse pretty much had to use all her self-restraint to not just stand there and stare at you.

“…Alright, so you hold this and—”

---

It had been ages since that day.

Even though you and Clarisse have gotten closer, there was still a part of her that longs for more. See, ninety-nine percent of the time, her wishes don’t come true. Or it does, for a little while, but then it gets ripped away from her grasp. She gets her hopes up and then it all comes crashing down – a cycle that never ends.

Clarisse has come to terms with the thought that she will never gets what she wants. She supposed that she was okay with that, but then you came along and everything changed. For every smile, every crinkle of your nose, every stupid joke that made you laugh, she finds herself wanting to wish that you would feel the same way she does.

“Clary?”

She snaps out of her reverie and looks at you, “Yes?” She felt embarrassed for not paying attention, smiling apologetically.

“I asked if you wanted to—”

“Yes.”

You sit up in her bed, laughing. “I haven’t even finished the sentence yet.” You grab her hand gingerly, locking your fingers together. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me—”

“Yes.”

“Clarisse,” You whine, “Let me continue first.” You pout, trying to let go of her hand, but Clarisse wouldn’t let you.

Clarisse shakes her head, holding on to your hand firmly while her other brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care. I’ll go wherever you go.” She says genuinely. Being that close to you made Clarisse’s heart race, but she couldn’t bring it in herself to look away because then you’ll know that something was up.

You stare at her in disbelief, crossing your arms, “Really? You’ll go with me to show the new kid around camp?”

Her lips purse and you know you’ve got her. Clarisse lets out a sigh of resignation. “No.” She mumbles. As much as she’d love to spend more time with you, she and you have very opposing ideas on how to welcome new campers.

“Thought so.” You deadpan.

“Why are you the one doing it, anyway?”

“Because I’m still in trouble for staying past curfew two days ago, pretty girl.”

Clarisse froze at the nickname. If her heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. You chuckle, beginning to make your way out of the bed. “Hey, no, where are you going?” Clarisse grabs your hand, another laugh escaping you.

“To give that tour.” You roll your eyes, successfully prying your hands away from Clarisse’s grip. You ignore her sounds of protest as you make your way to the door.

Clarisse could feel her stomach drop, feeling the warmth slip away the further your distance becomes. The longer she stares at you with your back turned, the longer she thinks you would leave without saying goodbye. To her surprise (and not for the first time), you look back at her.

“I’ll see you later at the bonfire.” You lean against the doorframe, your eyes narrowing. “Don’t be late, alright?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes at the look you give her. She was only late one time and that was because she was debating with herself whether to give you flowers or not. She wanted to tell you the real reason why she was late, but decided it would be best to keep her mouth shut. “I won’t.” She says instead.

“Good.” You straighten your posture, putting one foot out the door while a hand rested on the doorframe, giving Clarisse a smile she knows you only reserved for her. Only when she smiles back do you actually take your leave.

Clarisse gets a sense of hope upon your departure.

Maybe it would be different this time.

She leans back against the bed frame, sending out the same prayer to every god she could think of.

Please, please, please let me get what I want.

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[cozage]

hii can i request silent treatment with sabo, law, and ace? like the one you wrote before! i love reading it sm i wanted to see how they (sabo, law, and ace) would react if they received/ gave silent treatment !

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Ace Cw: everyone involved being a bit of an orange flag Total word count: 4k

Silent Treatment

Sabo

Oh sweet sweet Sabo. He didn’t even realize his offhanded joke in the meeting had offended you. He didn’t think about how you and Koala were the only ones not laughing about the jokes the officers said. He didn’t notice how you and Koala immediately left the room fuming as soon as you could.

He had to run to catch up with you after the meeting, and you showed no sign of slowing your pace. 

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get to you. “I’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Do whatever you want,” you shot back. “The men know best after all, right?” 

He must not have heard the sarcasm and anger laced in your voice, because he just gave you a wink and a peck on the cheek and ran off with some of the other leaders. 

Koala gave you a side smirk. “They’re clueless, I swear,” she laughed. 

“We never get the credit,” you grumbled. “I can’t do it anymore, Koala! I’m so fed up with this!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“So many times!” you cried. “We’re treated the same professionally but socially-”

“It’s a commanders club,” she finished for you. “Maybe we should make a separate club?”

“Rule One: No talking to them until they apologize.”

Sabo was surprised to find that you weren’t waiting for him in bed when he got home. You weren’t in the spare room, either. 

He finally found a note on the kitchen that was short and to the point. “Sleeping at Koala’s.”

Confusing, but he was slightly drunk, so he opted to go to bed and figure it out in the morning. 

When morning came, he was disappointed to find that the coffee hadn't started. He went to grab his overnight oats from the fridge, but you hadn’t made that for him either, which was strange. Usually when you stayed at Koala’s, you prepped all that stuff ahead of time. But last night you hadn’t. He’d have to ask you about that before the meeting this morning. 

He arrived late to the meeting since the coffee took longer than he thought it would and he had to make breakfast. You were already sitting when he got there, you and Koala talking to each other quietly. Normally you saved a se at for him, but today all of the seats had been filled, and he was left with one at the end of the table.

He kept trying to catch your eye, but you refused to look at him. He finally caught Koala’s at one point, and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but she simply rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dragon. 

If Koala was mad at him, that meant you were mad at him. He racked his brain the entire meeting, trying to think of what he would’ve done to make you upset. But he couldn’t think of anything. 

He tried to catch you after the meeting, but you and Koala made a beeline for the door and ignored his calls after you. 

“Just let them go, dude,” Jiron said to him. “Those two never want to hang out with us anyway.”

Shit. It all clicked together. The jokes made in the meeting yesterday, him going out with the boys without asking if you and Koala had wanted to come. 

“Maybe if you treated them with a little respect, Jiron, they would.” Sabo’s words came out in a low, threatening hiss. 

“Look, I know you’re close with them,” Jiron said. “But they’re not very nice to us either. They’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sabo edged, his blood starting to boil. 

“Well…bitchy.”

Sabo wasn’t really sure what happened next. He didn’t remember doing anything, but the next moment, Jiron was on the ground holding his nose. Blood was leaking out through his fingers onto the ground. 

“Don’t use that word to describe either of them ever again. Got it?” Sabo growled the words, looking around the room. 

“What the FUCK, Sabo?” Jiron cried, but Sabo was already pacing toward the door, desperate to get to you as soon as possible. 

He caught up with you and Koala quickly and jumped between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your alls shoulders. You tensed at his touch, but once you realized it was him, you just scoffed and shrugged him off. 

“Go away, Sabo,” Koala sneered as she shoved him away.

“I’m sorry!” Sabo jumped in front of you all, trying to block your path. “Please, I’m sorry I laughed at those jokes yesterday and even made one myself. That was really shitty of me.”

“Sabo,” you sighed, shaking your head.

He fell to his knees and looked up at you, begging. “And please teach me how to use the coffee machine! And make overnight oats! I’ll make it from now on. I’m starving and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you giggle, and you took his hands and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, you laced your fingers through his. “You’ll really make the oats?”

“If you want me to.”

“Deal.” You smiled, and gave him a soft kiss to seal his promise. “Can’t go back on it now.”

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Koala pouted.

“Oh,” Sabo suddenly got very bashful. “I punched Jiron, I think.”

“You WHAT?!”

Law

You bounded into Law’s office, excited to tell him the news. “Law! Shachi just caught-”

“Hang on,” Law mumbled, flicking through his book. He was always looking for something. You were always interrupting him. 

After a few minutes, he looked up at you. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Shachi just caught an electric eel! A massive one!”

The moments the words left your mouth, Law was back to looking back at his book. “Interesting. Is that all?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“Hang on,” he mumbled again, already lost on another tangent in his head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You left the room before he had a chance to respond, though you doubt he even noticed your absence.

He got like this sometimes, and you tried not to get hurt by his sudden coldness. It’s just what happened when you were with the Surgeon of Death. A few hours later you had all but forgotten the encounter. There was an island coming up, and you ran to alert him.  

“Law!” You slammed his door open, ecstatic. “Law! Guess-”

“Do you mind?!” His loud and hostile voice made you take a step back. “I’m trying to do something and you keep interrupting me!”

You pushed down the lump that was in your throat, but you could feel your lip trembling, threatening to give you away. You couldn’t look weak in front of him. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, rushing out of the room.

Shachi found you first, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I told you, you’re too good for him! Maybe you should give him a taste of what it’s like to lose you.”

“Like how?”

A devious grin grew on Shachi’s face. “Silent treatment.”

“Hey captain.” Bepo peeked in the door nervously, knowing there was tension about to be caused. “We’re heading off to the island.”

Law looked up from his book, confused. “Island?” You always told him when you were about to approach an island.

“We docked about a half hour ago,” Shachi chimed in from the hallway.

Law could hear something in his voice. “Where’s Y/N? Are they going?” 

“They're going,” Shachi said, grabbing the door handle. 

“Well, can you-” Law’s words were cut off by Shachi slamming the door shut. 

That was Law’s first indication of something stirring. Shachi always took your side during squabbles, and he seemed livid today. 

Law meant to go talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he needed to apologize for, but he knew it was something. But then he found an interesting article about poisons, and he got sucked into reading. Before he knew it, the sun had set and he had to turn on a lamp to keep reading.

Shachi, on the other hand, kept your mind busy. He took you out on the town, dragging you into every clothing shop and making you try anything on that even might look good on you. He pulled you into dessert shops and trinket stores and forced you to go on a beach walk with him. He was your best friend for a reason.

“What if he doesn’t apologize?” you asked him, watching the sun sink. “Then you don’t talk to him, no matter what,” Shachi responded.

Law was still shut away in his office when you returned, and your heart felt a soft ache. He hadn’t even noticed your absence. 

“Come on,” Shachi said gently. “You can sleep in our room.”

“I should go talk to-”

“No,” Shachi said firmly. “He always does this. He needs to learn his lesson.” So you slept in the crew bunkhouse for the first time in months. Nobody asked questions, everyone just accepted it. You suspected Shachi had filled them in. 

It took Law a few minutes to realize what was wrong. He had come into his room silently and brushed his teeth in the dark before bed like always. It was quieter than usual. And when he went to lay down, the bed was still made. As he pulled the covers back, he couldn’t help but notice how unnatural it felt. But he couldn’t place why.

It was too cold, he realized. And he quickly flicked on a light in the room to find it empty. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where were you? Had you gone missing? Had the Navy or someone else captured you to turn you in for a bounty? 

He quickly walked to the shared common room, where he found Penguin and Ikkaku sitting. “Did you go to the island?” he asked, scanning the room. It was too late for you to be up, but he had to double check. 

They both nodded, and Law tried not to panic. “Did Y/N come back?”

“Yeah,” Penguin affirmed. “We had dinner with them and Shachi, and we all walked back together.” He gave Ikakku a nervous glance before continuing. “I think they’re sleeping in the shared bunkhouse.”

“What?” Law hissed. “Why?” But Ikkaku and Penguin both shrugged, and Law turned and stormed out the door, making a beeline for the bunkhouse. 

He flung the door open, searching for you. He quickly found you in the bunk below Shachi, and he walked over to where you were sleeping. 

“What are you doing?” Law said, shaking you lightly. “Come to bed.”

You groaned in your sleep and pushed him away. You never slept well in the bunkhouse. You were a light sleeper, any type of noise made you wake up. 

“Y/N,” Law said, shaking you harder. “Let’s go.” 

“Law?” Your eyes finally opened, your voice full of exhaustion and sleep. Once you realized it was him, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Silent Treatment. 

Law could see the hurt and anger in your eyes when you recognized him, and his heart constricted when you turned away from him. 

“Can we talk about what’s going on? Please?” he begged. He was trying not to disturb others, but you could hear them beginning to stir. 

You almost caved, but Shachi came to your rescue. He hopped down from his bed and put himself between you and Law. “You can talk in the morning,” Shachi said. “Y/N wants to be here, so let them sleep here.”

Law tried to look past Shachi to you. “I know you can’t stand sleeping here. Just come to bed. Please.”

“Captain.” Shachi’s voice was on the verge of dangerous defiance. “Leave.”

Law stared at him, not sure what to make of Shachi’s protectiveness over you. His gaze was almost challenging, but Shachi refused to back down. He could hear the others in the room starting to stir, and he knew he was only embarrassing you, so he conceded. “I’m coming back first thing.”

“That’s fine,” Shachi said. “If Y/N wants to talk then, you’re welcome to have a conversation.”

Law slept horribly that night. His fingers kept reaching out for you. The bed felt too big, the covers weren’t warm enough. He finally got up and started reading. He was too anxious to sleep.

So were you. You were tossing and turning every 20 minutes, trying to get comfortable. You couldn’t sleep without Law’s heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But Shachi made you promise to never admit it. 

Law was sitting in the hallway outside the door when you went to get breakfast. You almost tripped over him, and when he saw you, he immediately stood to his feet. His tired gold eyes pierced into your soul, and you could see he was in rough shape.  “Can we talk now?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but you could hear it loud and clear. 

You gave a panicked look to Shachi, but he only gave you a smile and a small nod, encouraging you on. 

You gave Law a nod in agreement. You still weren’t ready to talk to him, but you could listen. 

“I did something yesterday,” Law said, closing the door to his office as you walked in. “I snapped at you when you were excited about something. I prioritized my studies over you and I’m sorry.”

You watched him closely, making sure his words were genuine. Law had a tendency to apologize when he knew you wanted to hear it, not when he actually felt bad about it. 

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he continued. “I tend to get obsessed with my work, and my relationships hurt because of it. And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need you to tell me when I’m hurting you. Because I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. So please…tell me. Yell at me. Smack me. Just don’t…don’t disappear on me. Please.”

Your heart melted at his words. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And you won’t get mad?”

“I promise I won’t.”

You gave him a mischievous grin. “Even if I smack you really hard?” 

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying that,” he groaned.

You giggled and gave him a soft kiss. “Too late, Captain.” You rested your head on his shoulder, his familiar scent making your eyes start to droop. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Bed would be nice,” he mumbled into your hair, already pulling you toward his private room. 

Ace

Fifteen people in the bar, and your boyfriend had flirted with every single one. 

Friendly. That’s what he always called it. He was just being friendly. But you saw the way those commoners looked at him, the lust in their eyes. Getting with a pirate would be thrilling, they’d whisper when his back was turned. He never seemed to hear them talk about him, but he’d always be around them. Convenient. 

“You shouldn’t be bothered,” he’d always say. “You know that I’ll always choose you.”

But you were bothered. You hated the pit of jealousy that formed in your gut every time a new person walked up to him. They were always so touchy, rubbing their hands along his shoulders, and the daring ones would even venture down his chest. Like he was their plaything. But he didn’t belong to them. 

He was yours. Just not in this bar. Or any bar. 

Maybe it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were certain he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of you flirting with another man. 

Your eyes met an attractive man across the bar, and you decided it would be a good theory to test. 

Seeing what you were about to do, Marco grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down into the seat. “Wait,” he muttered.

“Stay out of it, Marco,” you hummed softly. Your voice was pleasant, but there was a threatening undertone to it. 

“If you want to make him jealous that will end in a fight and change nothing except the intensity of your makeup sex, go for it.” 

Your cheeks brightened at his words, and you finally broke your eye contact with the random man to look at the commander. “Marco-!”

“But if you want to make him panic and stay by your side from now on, listen.” Marco’s voice got low. “Ace looks over here at least once every five minutes. He’s checking on you. I’m guessing jealous sex is his-“

“MARCO!”

“Anyway, I guarantee if you vanish, it’ll make him sweat. Just go back to the Moby Dick, and crash in my room for the night if you want. Give him a bit of the silent treatment. Don’t lean into what he wants. Push away, and I know he’ll stop.”

“How?”

“Because he’s head over heels for you, dummy. Even right now, all he wants is your attention. Don’t give it to him and you’ll cut the bad habits.”

It was worth a shot, and you wouldn’t have to talk to any sleazy guys to test the theory. 

“You’re the best, Marco.” You flashed him a grin and stood, giving Ace one last glance. “But never talk about my sex life again.”

“Oh please,” Marco scoffed. “You have no idea what the commanders talk about during shower time, do you?”

Your eyes widened in horror, but Marco just laughed. “Relax! It was a joke!”

“It better be!” you hissed. “Or I’ll skin that boy alive.”

You gave one more glance to Ace. He was caught up in some conversation with a woman, giving her most of his attention. You rolled your eyes, jealousy panging in your chest, and slipped out the door. 

The first two times Ace glanced over at your table, he wasn’t worried about your absence. But the third time, he started to get a bad feeling. You had been gone for too long. 

He wandered back to the table, trying to appear casual and unbothered. “Hey Marco,” he said, bringing him another beer. “Where’s Y/N?”

Marco knew he was using the beer as a bribe, but took it anyway. “Not sure, they walked out about thirty minutes ago. Hasn’t been back since.”

“What?” Ace could feel himself sobering up, worried about your safety. “Where’d they go?”

“They seemed tired,” Marco said, watching Ace carefully. 

“But they always tell me when they’re going home,” Ace grumbled, looking around. “I’m gonna head back too. Kind of over this whole scene.”

Marco chuckled, reading through Ace’s words, but he didn’t say anything further. He watched Ace walk out the door and back to the ship without so much as a goodbye to anyone in the bar, and he knew his plan would work. 

Ace tried not to panic when you weren’t in his room. Sometimes you slept in other places, like the common room or the bunkhouse. Especially on drunken nights, you always seemed to find some random place to pass out. But you always told him when you were going to bed. 

He didn’t sleep well. He wandered around the ship several times, trying to appear unbothered. But he was searching every nook and cranny, desperately looking for where you had landed yourself. 

He didn’t see you again until the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Marco and a few others. You were completely surrounded by people, but Ace stopped by your seat on the way to the breakfast line. 

“Hey.” He touched your shoulder and you stiffened at the contact, which was odd. Normally you leaned into his touch. You always looked up at him full of love, silently begging him for a morning kiss. But this morning you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Where’d you end up last night?” he asked. 

“My room,” Marco answered for you, laughing. “That sure was a shock to walk into!”

You laughed, shoving Marco slightly. You still refused to acknowledge Ace, though it was starting to get difficult. “Hey Thornton, you left shortly before me. Where did you end up?”

“I swear I could’ve made it back to my room if I wanted to!” he bellowed, and everyone laughed. 

“Right!” you laughed. “I bet the deck all night sure was cozy!”

You were ignoring him. Ace was sure of it. Had something happened between you and Marco…no. The two of you had only ever been friends, so close you might as well have been siblings. 

He finally left you alone, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out what had made you so upset since the last time he spoke to you. 

“You flirt too much,” Marco said, joining him in line. 

Ace looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wondering why Y/N is ignoring you, right?” Ace shrugged, trying not to show that it was bothering him too much, but Marco clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Drop the act, man. You should care. And I know you do. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears trying to figure it out.”

“I just like to talk to people,” Ace defended. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is you don’t just talk. You flirt.” Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing, dude, and I don’t blame you. But you’ve got a good thing. Don’t lose it because you want to…talk.”

Ace frowned, annoyed with being called out so personally, but he thought about it while he ate his breakfast alone. He knew how much you hated the way he treated local islanders when you all went out. But he loved the jealous, possessive side of you. He loved watching you fight for him, even if you were fighting with him. 

He found you lounging on the deck, reading a magazine. He walked over to you and sat on the edge of the lounger. He saw your eyes flick up and then immediately back to the magazine, and he could’ve sworn the air temperature dropped 10 degrees. 

“Hey,” he cooed, his hands dancing up your legs, finding the spots he knew you were ticklish. 

You tried to move your legs, but there weren't many places to escape to without getting up and walking away. 

“Please talk to me,” he pouted. He leaned against you, pushing your magazine out of the way and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. 

You turned your head away from him, trying your best to ignore him even though he was physically on top of you, pinning you down. 

“Pleaseeeee,” Ace begged. His hands came up and playfully squished your cheeks, and you struggled to keep a straight face. He was so good at making you smile. 

“Go away,” you finally said, trying to push him off of you. It was useless, but you had to try. 

“You speak!” Ace cheered, and you rolled your eyes. You were tired of his antics. You wanted an apology. 

“I’m so lonely without you, babe,” Ace sang offkey, his fingers tracing along your shoulders. “Please come back to me, my loveeeee.”

You didn’t react, but you could feel your vision starting to get blurry. He was too stubborn, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep being humiliated and forced to watch Ace live the best of both worlds. 

“I’m sorry,” Ace finally whispered when he saw your eyes starting to get watery. “I know I’m a little insane.”

You finally looked at him, still silent. Waiting for more. 

“And I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you for so long,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. So no more flirting with random people in bars. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling into your chest and hugging you tight. He’d hold you close and never let you slip away again.

[vixstarria]

Missionary with the lights off

We're back in Act 1 again! I swear I'll start moving forward now that I'm playing the game again, after this.

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x F!Reader

18+, blood drinking, fluff to smut, porn with plot, PIV

Pst, don't let the title mislead you too much

Approx. 1,800 words

You woke up in Astarion's tent.  

Last night had been… unusual. Something you said had soured the mood for anything sexual. Instead you stayed up talking late into the night. You hadn't even taken your clothes off.  

You'd never spent the whole night together before, always opting to make your way back to your respective tents eventually, after your nocturnal activities, but then again you’d spent those previous nights opening your legs more so than your heart. Something had now shifted a little.  

The last thing you remembered was drifting off with your face nuzzled into his neck as he draped an arm over you, having hugged him on a whim and finding yourself not wanting to let go. What you saw now was completely contrary to that memory, as you found yourself lying on your side, with Astarion's head pressed against your chest, right over your heart, both arms holding you close. He must have moved himself while you were asleep. 

He looked perfectly at peace. It was actually adorable, seeing the prickly rogue like this.  

You reached out to softly run your hand over his disarrayed curls, when he also stirred. 

“Hello, darling,” you purred, copying his habitual greeting for you. 

Astarion was startled, suddenly jolting up. He seemed momentarily disoriented, taking in you and his surroundings for a few moments before comprehension returned to his eyes.  

“Are you alright..?” you asked. “I know it's first thing in the morning, but surely I don't look that disturbing.” 

“Yes, sorry… I just… I can’t remember the last time I woke up next to someone,” he said finally. 

“The night at the clearing..?” you offered. 

“I didn’t sleep that night,” he admitted. “And now there's a woman in my tent and I don't know what to do. ...Ahah..! Refresh my memory, what is the protocol? Do I need to make you breakfast?” he joked. 

“I’m sure Gale’s already working on that,” you grinned. 

Astarion laid back down next to you, propped up on an elbow. He gave you an odd half-smile with a slight frown, his eyes narrowed. Not unkindly, but rather a bit… awkwardly. You wondered what he was thinking. 

You ignored the odd look, and instead your eyes wandered up to survey his bedhead. No trace of pomade was left in his hair, instead some of it was standing on end, while other, longer strands started to fall over his eyes as he leaned on his hand, watching you.  

“What is going on here..?” you laughed, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into your hand as you ran your fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, his lips widening into a genuine smile. He reminded you of a cat that was enjoying a head scratch.  

“I don't have the slightest idea, darling,” he drawled. “But I guess you have to die after all, now that you've seen it.” 

“You are a horrible flirt, you know, and I don't mean that in a good way." 

“It works on you, doesn't it?” he shrugged, grinning and leaning in for a kiss.  

“Hmm, but returning to breakfast,” you said, breaking the kiss as his lips slowly made their way down to your neck. “What about you? Fancy a nibble?” 

“If it's on offer…” Astarion purred, continuing his way down. He knew your body entirely too well at this point. His lips lingered on the exact spot that made your breath shudder, sending a wave of shivers all through you. “Where..?” 

“Right there,” you breathed.  

“Oh? You want me to leave my mark on you, right where everyone can see..?” he murmured, continuing to kiss your neck. You usually offered him your wrist.  

“It’s not like they don’t already know what we’ve been doing, so sure, mark me...” you replied. “Mark me as yours,” you added in a hoarse whisper.  

Once the words were out you wondered if it was too much, but Astarion clearly liked the idea. He liked it a lot, judging by the soft growl he let out, as he continued to trail his lips along your neck, searching for just the right spot. You knew he'd found it, you remembered where he's bitten you before, but instead of going in for a bite he toyed with you, leaving slow, deliberate licks, until you released a small moan, and only then sank his fangs in you, lightly grinding his hips into yours as he did.  

Something about a vampire's bite made it quite unlike anything else. It started off as a sharp, icy chill, gradually spreading and melting into something that stung the way an itch strings right before you scratch it, multiplied tenfold. The only way to relieve that stinging sensation was to give into it, more and more. The area bitten remained tender and sensitive in the most erogenous way for a long time after the bite itself. The whole experience was inherently erotic, no matter where the bite was. 

You understood why this was fetishised. You also understood how people happily allowed themselves to be bled dry.  

Astarion continued to grind against you, slowly, his erection evident. This was nothing new and didn't necessarily mean anything - you’ve joked before that any blood he drank went straight to his dick before going anywhere else – which is why you usually did this privately, even when he drank from your wrist.  

However, this time, you really didn't want it to just be casual. You didn't think he did either, the way he was breathing. One of your hands was caught in his hair at the back of his head, the other trailed down to his hips, squeezing, as he grinded into you harder, making you crave more.  

And then it was over and you felt a profound sense of disappointment and loss, as Astarion gave your neck a few final licks and broke away from you, lifting his body from yours. The only contact that remained between you two was your eyes, as he gave you an unwavering look of barely contained lust.  

The aching need between your legs had become unbearable.  

One heartbeat... Two... Three... 

Astarion’s lips crashed into yours.  

Suddenly, without a single word, you found yourselves tearing at each other’s pants in an urgent rush to remove them.  

Curse them, you thought. You would start sleeping in a nightgown, if you managed to find one. Or naked. Or steal Astarion’s shirt. 

You thought you recognised some elvish curses as Astarion snarled, struggling to pull your pants off without lifting his body from you, biting your lip as you managed to twist and free one leg, the other pant leg left danging at your knee. 

All the while, you’d been tearing at the lacing on Astarion’s pants, managing to undo it just enough to slide them low enough to release his pulsing cock. 

You didn’t even bother with your shirts. You had a burning, ravenous hunger, and it had to be sated. Immediately.  

You tugged on Astarion’s cock, impatiently guiding it towards your throbbing pussy. You had no time or eagerness or wish for any teasing or foreplay, only a carnal, animalistic need. You’d barely aligned Astarion’s dick with your entrance when he plunged himself into you, fully, with another swear through gritted teeth.  

Finally, you felt complete.  

There was no rhythm, decency or finesse to what followed, the only way you could describe it was mindless, feral rutting. You dug your fingers into his hips, trying to bring him closer, deeper, moaning as his tongue writhed against yours. He couldn’t be close enough - even had you melded into one you would still want more of him. 

You spread your legs wide, angling your hips so his body hit your exposed clit with every thrust, and bucked into him, desperately. He changed his thrusts to a more rolling motion, rubbing into you.  

“Yes... Like that...” you barely managed. 

There was a commotion, a loud clanking, crashing sound and some yelling outside. 

“Astarion!” you heard Wyll’s voice just outside the tent, shortly after.  

"Fuck,” Astarion growled under his breath. “Three minutes!” he shouted. 

Three minutes? Then again, you didn’t think you were going to last even another minute. 

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand as his hips continued to relentlessly grind you into the floor of his tent. Your whimpers grew more drawn out until your body stilled before breaking into tremors emanating from your hips, as he continued to fuck you. You were holding on to his back for dear life, bringing your legs up to wrap tightly around his hips, moaning into his hand as you came. 

Immediately, he changed his rolling thrusts to something frantic, grabbing your hand and bringing it over your head, and catching your knee at his elbow and bringing it up with his other arm. He buried his face in your neck, moaning, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, until he slammed his hips into you with a final groan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. 

“Astarion! This is urgent!” you heard Wyll again.  

“He’s coming!” you yelled, exasperated, before you realised what you’d said.  

Your words were greeted with a momentary silence, then the sound of Karlach laughing somewhat off in the distance.  

Astarion was also laughing into your neck, his shoulders shaking even as he delivered his final thrusts. 

“That was-” he panted between laughter, “the sloppiest... most unimaginative... objectively worst sex I've ever had.” 

“And subjectively..?” you asked, also starting to laugh as you came off the sudden high that had overtaken you.  

“I wouldn’t mind waking up to something like that every day for the rest of my life,” he said, lifting his head and looking at you. 

“That can be arranged,” you purred. 

There was that little frown again, as he cocked an eyebrow at you.  

“We could always die today,” you shrugged. 

“Funny...” he said. “Anyway... Good luck with this giant mess I left between your legs. I better go see what is so godsdamn important.” 

Bonus scene: 

“What do you mean, I’m the only adult here that knows how to manage a needle and thread?! And how do you even rip a bag of holding..?!” 

“Astarion, our fate is in your hands.” 

“No, you can carry your own shit from here on. I’m fine with just my weapons and the clothes on my back.” 

“We need you, Astarion!” 

“At least get rid of all the junk, what do we need a dozen goblin scimitars for, they’re not even worth anything!” 

“Save us, Astarion!” 

“Rotten carrots, rusty tongs... Is that literally just a rock?” 

“Save us, 239-year-old vampire that can sew!”  

Sigh... Astarion observed the torn bag with a resigned look.  

“...Would you mind mending Clive as well, while you’ve got the kit out..? He’s been through hell and back. And looks it.” 

“Yes, Karlach, I’ll fix up your teddy bear too...” 

~~~~~ 

Mark me as yours - fic re the following day

I have a whole series with these two, check it out

AO3

[lewisvinga]

around the world | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; influencer y/n decides to do the trend of showing off her outfits with lewis as they traveled around the world.

warnings; none ??

word count; 815

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested! this was longer than expected😭😭

masterlist !

“Okay, ready?” Y/n questions after setting up her phone on the desk in their room. They were currently in their hotel room in Las Vegas, almost ready to leave for the opening of the Las Vegas Grand Prix when she got the idea to shoot the tiktok.

“Wait, what do I do again?” Lewis asked with a chuckle, smoothing down the long black coat he wore on top of a black top with a deep v-neck.

“I showed you like 20 times, Lew.”

“Was too distracted by your pretty face.”

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, ignoring the blush on her face as she holds one hand out. “Just clap my hand while crossing your legs at the same time.” She explains while copying the motion.

Since they were known as a fashionable couple who always matched, she wore a similar outfit to his but in a dress form. She wore a midi tight black dress with a v-neck and a matching black coat. They both wore their matching pearl necklaces from Valentino and even had matching sunglasses. She of course had her black mini Kelly in hand, an anniversary gift from him from a couple years prior.

“Ready, Lew?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, gorgeous.”

Y/n puts on the countdown and takes a couple steps back to make sure their full outfits are in the frame. The moment the song began, she held her hand out and Lewis did exactly what she explained to him.

“Perfect, now I just gotta remember when we go to Abu Dhabi.”

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“Okay, now we do the same but in these outfits,” Y/n explains again, adjusting her phone in his driver's room. Fortunately, she was quick to remember to record the next part of her TikTok.

They both wore baggy red pants but Lewis wore a white Mercedes shirt while she just wore a plain white blouse with a white Lady Dior in hand.

“Same thing as last week, right?” He asked with a smile as she began the timer.

“Exactly!” She nods in reply, her smile matching his. The song began to play and they copied the same movement they did the week before. Once it was over, she quickly grabbed her phone to check the footage. “Oh, this is gonna be amazing once we finish!”

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“Roscoe, sit,” Lewis tells the bulldog who wore a wide smile. They both watch as Y/n props up her phone on the front porch of their home in England.

The ground was white with snow and the sky let more snowflakes fall. They were wearing layers upon layers due to the freezing temperatures. Of course, they had matching navy blue jackets, and even Roscoe wore a matching vest. Their pants were both black but he wore black boots while she opted for navy boots.

She adjusts the grey scarf she wore that matches his as she starts the timer. “Roscoe, smile for the camera!” She exclaimed, rushing over to stand on the other side of the dog.

Roscoe was seemingly posing as the song began once again, and again Lewis and Y/n did the same movement.

“Roscoe is gonna look so good in that one!” He lets out a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he bends down to pet his bulldog’s head.

“He’s such a good boy, aren’t you, Roscoe?”

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“Ending it with Brazil?”

“To let the fans know it’s our honeymoon.” Y/n replies in a ‘duh’ tone. She smiled at him and glanced at their matching outfit once again. Lewis had decided to take his braids out and wear his natural curls for the summer, something he usually does when he isn’t racing.

His honey-brown curls were tied into a low bun and covered by a blue hat. He wore an oversized yellow Nike shirt and an earth-green tone pair of baggy pants. Y/n opted for wearing a skirt the same color and a blue Christian Dior tote bag instead of the cap. She also wore a yellow Nike top but it was fitted instead of loose.

It was one of her favorite outfits in one of their favorite countries. Brazil was always special to him and it became special to her, hence their honeymoon location.

“Okay, last one, and be ready!” She exclaims, pressing the countdown once again.

Lewis couldn’t help but stare at her with adoration in his eyes and a loving smile as they did the same moves for the last part of her video. He can already see all the comments they’d get on how he stared at her but he honestly couldn’t care.

He zoned out as he watched Y/n get excited over the video. He was eternally grateful that he was able to go around the world with his wife by his side.